Enlightened (18 page)

When it was over, when Murdo had collapsed on top of him and the muffled haze of pleasure had cleared enough that David could open his eyes and actually think, he gave a soft huff of laughter, his breath gusting against Murdo’s neck.

“Christ,” the other man said wonderingly.

“Just what I was thinking.”

“I should let you fuck me more often.”

They both laughed at that, and Murdo lifted his head to look down at David. His dark eyes danced with affection and growing pleasure as he read David’s own expression, which David knew must mirror Murdo’s, since he was making no attempt to hide his feelings. They watched each other like that for a long time, till the joyful expression on Murdo’s face softened into something more reflective, almost poignant.

“I didn’t know I wasn’t happy before,” he murmured.

“Before what?”

Murdo gave a lopsided smile. “Before you. Not that I was actively
unhappy
. I had plans. Objectives. Things to acquire or achieve. But—” He paused, then said simply, “You make me happy, David.”

David stared at him, his throat clogged with emotion. “The feeling’s mutual,” he managed at last, his voice little more than a whisper. Then he pulled Murdo down, pressing their lips together in a fierce kiss.

Chapter Fourteen

They dined early, neither of them having eaten much since the day before. Murdo instructed the meal to be served in his private sitting room, which meant they could sit down in their shirtsleeves and rest their elbows on the small table, eating from each other’s plates with impunity. While they ate, David told Murdo about his visit to Elizabeth and Euan, and his subsequent interview with Mr. Carr.

Murdo frowned when he was finished. “I don’t like the thought of you being mixed up in all this again. Kinnell already bears a grudge against you, and he’s a vindictive bastard. In all likelihood, the only reason he’s left you alone since the accident is that he knows he was lucky not to be prosecuted for what he did. If he suspects you’re assisting Elizabeth, he may come after you.”

David considered that. He hadn’t pushed for a prosecution after the accident, thinking it best to leave well alone for Elizabeth’s sake. Now that he knew Kinnell was trying to track her down, David wondered if he ought to have done so. It would be unusual for an aristocrat to face punishment for assaulting a man so far beneath him, but in this case, the incident had been witnessed by dozens of other people, including, of course, Lord Murdo Balfour, another peer of the realm, whose word would carry just as much clout as Sir Alasdair Kinnell’s.

Perhaps he could make the complaint now?

Even as the thought occurred to David, he rejected it. He’d waited far too long, and even if he had not, it would be imprudent to bring his association with Murdo under scrutiny.

“Don’t worry,” he said now, touching Murdo’s wrist. “I’ll stay well away from Kinnell and leave protecting Elizabeth to Euan. All I have to do is move the administration of the trust to another solicitor, and that shouldn’t take long at all—I can make the arrangements as soon as I know where Elizabeth and Euan plan to settle. Though I may have to beg the use of your carriage again to do so.”

“Where are they thinking of going?”

“Somewhere industrial, I’d imagine, somewhere Kinnell would have little reason to go. Birmingham, perhaps, or Manchester.”

“That’ll be quite a journey,” Murdo said. “You can have the carriage, of course, but you’ll have to put up with my company if you’re going anywhere. I have no intention of letting you out of my sight anytime soon.”

“You have your own problems to resolve,” David pointed out.

“And resolve them I will,” Murdo assured him. “But I won’t make the mistake of leaving you alone. You have a tendency to run into trouble when left to your own devices. Don’t fight me on this, David.”

Murdo’s overbearing protectiveness didn’t sit well with David. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could do so, there was a knock at the door. It was Mr. Liddle.

“There’s a gentleman asking for Mr. Lauriston,” the man said. “A Mr. MacLennan.”

“Euan?” David looked up, concerned. Why would Euan come here? “Where is he?”

“In the drawing room, sir,” Mr. Liddle said. “I should say that he seems very agitated. He was most adamant that he speak to you straight away.”

David stood up quickly, forgetting about his leg, as he occasionally did. He gave an impatient wince at the jarring pain that accompanied his precipitous action and turned to Murdo, who was also on his feet.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Murdo said.

“I can’t think why else he’d come here,” David admitted.

Euan was pacing the floor when they entered the drawing room. He turned at their entrance, and his face was a mask of grief.

“Davy,” he said, “Kinnell’s taken Lizzie. His men came for her after you left, and I wasn’t there to stop them. I don’t know what to do!”

“Christ, no,” David said, his heart plummeting.

“He’s had her for hours now and—” Euan broke off, turning away as a harsh sob tore from his chest.

David went to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get her back,” he said firmly, forcing a note of confidence into his voice that in truth he didn’t feel.

“Why don’t you tell us what happened?” Murdo said, making Euan look up and seem to notice him for the first time. Euan stared at Murdo for a long beat and David wondered if he was remembering the last time he’d encountered the other man—the wariness and desperation in his gaze suggested he might be.

“I hardly know anything,” Euan said at last. “I came home at four o’clock, and she wasn’t there. The kitchen was in a mess—she’d been cooking. I was calling her name, looking for her. That’s when our neighbour Lily came round. She’d been waiting for me to come back for ages.” He swallowed. “Lily saw the carriage arrive. It had to be Kinnell’s; there was a crest on the door. Then she saw two men come out of the house with Lizzie between them. Servants, probably, since neither of them sounded like Kinnell. Lily said they bundled Lizzie into the carriage, and a moment later, they were gone. She was near frantic, not knowing what to do till I got back. And that’s it. That’s all I know.” His voice was raw with pain.

“I must’ve led him to you,” David said slowly. “I came to your house yesterday, and the very next day— God, Euan, I’m so sorry!” He felt sick inside at the thought that he was to blame for this. If only he’d been more careful, taken more precautions.

Euan just stared at him with an agonised expression, and David could see he’d reached the same conclusion.

“It’s not your fault, Davy. I just—I have to get her back,” Euan said. “But what the hell can I do? If Kinnell has her locked up in that house of his, I won’t be able to get anywhere near her.”

“To be frank,” Murdo interrupted, “there’s not much you can do. He’s her husband, and that gives him all the power. If he gets her away from London, you’ll have no chance.”

“Murdo!” David hissed. Euan’s face had paled at Murdo’s words, and he looked like he was about to vomit.

“I’m sorry to be brutal, but we have to be realistic here,” Murdo replied. “MacLennan won’t be able to sort this out for himself. Only someone who moves in Kinnell’s world has a chance of getting close to her now.”

“Someone like you, you mean?” Euan asked.

Murdo nodded.

“And—and would you be willing to help Lizzie?” Euan asked with painful humility. “I’m not too proud to beg. I’d do anything to get her away from him. Pay you anything. Name your price.”

“I don’t want your money,” Murdo said, sounding insulted. “I’ll do what I can to help Elizabeth—for David’s sake.”

Euan nodded slowly, his gaze shifting between them assessingly. “All right, then,” he said at last. “I—thank you. I’ll take whatever help you’ll give and be grateful. Do you have any ideas what to do?”

Murdo paused, considering. “I know some things about Kinnell,” he said carefully. “There may be some threats I could make. I doubt Kinnell would admit me to his home, though, since he knows I’m associated with David. Which means I need to engineer a public encounter, and soon. What do you know of his habits?”

“Nothing,” Euan admitted. “My first instinct was to go straight to his house—to stick a knife in the bastard, or at least see what I could find out—but I have to assume he knows about me and daresay he’d take great pleasure in setting his dogs on me. And that won’t help Lizzie.”

“You’re right there,” Murdo replied. “He’d love the chance to set his men on you. He isn’t one for carrying out his own dirty work. Even when he was boy, he preferred to have his friends hold his victims down.”

Murdo had been one of those victims, one of the younger boys at the school they’d both attended. David shivered to think of that.

“I’ll ask Liddle,” Murdo said, crossing the room to ring the servants’ bell. “If anyone can find out how Kinnell spends his time, it’s him.”

A few minutes later, the butler entered the room.

“My lord?”

“Mr. Liddle.” Murdo smiled. “I need some enquiries carried out—quickly and discreetly. Do you suppose you could do the necessary?”

Liddle didn’t react any differently to that pronouncement than he did to any other instruction Murdo ever gave him. Nor did he write any of what followed down or repeat any of the details back. He merely listened, nodding occasionally.

When Murdo was finished, Liddle said, “Sir Alasdair’s house isn’t far from here. An hour should be enough for me to get the information you seek, my lord. Shall I have some refreshments sent up while you wait?”

“Have a tray sent up for Mr. MacLennan,” Murdo said without seeking Euan’s opinion. “Mr. Lauriston and I have already eaten, and we will need to tidy ourselves up, so that we’re ready to go out. We hope to track down Sir Alasdair tonight.”

“Very good, my lord,” the butler said and withdrew.

“A mere hour?” Euan said, frowning. “To find out the man’s habits and report back?”

“Mr. Liddle is a quick worker. He knows practically every servant in London,” Murdo said, “and is owed favours by most of them.” He laid his hand on David’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s make ourselves more presentable while Mr. MacLennan has something to eat.”

“I don’t want anything,” Euan said. “How can I eat when I know what Lizzie must be going through?”

“You have to keep your strength up,” Murdo said firmly. “You have to be ready to act and if you neglect yourself you’ll be less able to do that. Think of Elizabeth.”

“All right,” Euan muttered unhappily. “I’ll try.”

David followed Murdo out of the drawing room and up the stairs to their respective bedchambers. Both of them were in dire need of a shave. David’s sparse auburn whiskers merely looked untidy, but Murdo’s dark beard grew in so quickly he looked as disreputable as a pirate.

When they reached the top of the stairs and Murdo went to turn away towards his own chamber, David detained him. “You told Euan you were helping him for my sake.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

Murdo gazed at him for a moment. “I knew you would do anything to help him,” Murdo said. He shrugged. “And I wanted to help you.”

David stared at him, unsure what to say to that, but Murdo saved him the bother of replying.

“Go to your chamber and get shaved,” he said gently. “And put your best clothes on. I’m not sure where we’ll end up going, and we can’t have you being stopped at the door because your coat doesn’t pass muster.”

Less than an hour later, they were back in the drawing room. Murdo was dressed in his finest, an exquisitely pressed dark-blue coat stretched over his broad shoulders and a sapphire pin glittering in the folds of his cravat. And if David didn’t look quite so splendid, he still looked very fine in his black-and-white evening clothes.

The tray of food that had been brought for Euan sat on an occasional table, barely touched. The man’s stomach must be in knots as he contemplated what was happening to Elizabeth. All three of them were on edge as they waited for Liddle to bring news.

At last, the butler returned.

“Happily, Sir Alasdair’s coachman was able to provide a good deal of information as regards his master’s habits,” the butler reported. “Apparently, he accompanies Sir Alasdair almost everywhere he goes, as Sir Alasdair dislikes riding.”

“What of Lady Kinnell?” Euan said. “Any news?”

Liddle’s habitually cool expression softened a little at Euan’s desperation. “Very little, I’m afraid, sir. The coachman said she was being kept inside. I asked him to find out more from the indoor servants and hope to get more news later tonight.”

Euan nodded stiffly.

“Tell us about Kinnell, then,” Murdo said.

The butler proceeded to relay the information the coachman had given him, a rehearsal of Kinnell’s days in London. Breakfast at home with the morning post, a portion of each day with his secretary, visits to his tailor and afternoon calls. And in the evenings, visits to his club—Culzeans near St. James.

“Apparently he dines at Culzeans most evenings,” Liddle concluded.

“Culzeans,” Murdo murmured. “I might’ve known.”