Enlightened by Joanna Chambers Read Free Book Online

dipping his fingers in to get a bit of the dense, waxy stuff, then rubbing it between his hands, releasing a scent that David would associate forever with soothing comfort and relief. And then Murdo’s hands were on David, slowly sweeping up the length of his thigh, his thumbs digging into the wasted, perennially tired muscles, the blunt heels of his hands kneading and working over the damaged architecture of David’s injured limb.
    David closed his eyes, giving himself over to the singular pleasure of pain relief, letting himself have this, take this. This freely offered gift.
    “It’s not ugly,” Murdo murmured. “Nothing about you could ever be ugly to me.”
    His voice was soft and deep, as free from laughter as David had ever heard it, and David’s heart clenched in the cage of his chest to detect the sincerity in it. He swallowed, embarrassed to realise that Murdo had probably seen the bob of his throat and correctly read its meaning.
    This vulnerability seemed to grow deeper each day, in direct proportion to the depth of his feelings. The two were linked, quite inextricably, his affection for Murdo exposing him in ways that horrified him. The protective barriers he’d spent a lifetime building up felt like they were crumbling away in the face of emotions he was helpless to deny. There would be no protection left to him when this ended.
    And the end was coming.
    The black descent that came after the end would be upon him very soon. He’d been through it once before, but this time it would be much, much worse.
    The soothing hands on his leg stilled, and when David opened his eyes, it was to see Murdo watching him with an expression caught somewhere between sadness and concern. David’s chest ached, and all he could think to do to ease the feeling was to look away. He busied himself with sitting up, swinging his legs off Murdo’s lap and making a show of searching the floor of the carriage.
    “Where on earth’s my stocking?” he said, amazed to hear how prosaic he sounded.
    He found it at last, keeping his gaze averted from Murdo as he rolled the fine-knit material over his calf, his skin still faintly sticky from the liniment, then stretched across the carriage to fetch his crumpled breeches from the opposite bench.
    “David—”
    Murdo’s hand on his shoulder pulled him back. He didn’t resist, allowing Murdo to draw him back down onto the bench, though he kept his gaze on his own hands and the soft brown material bunched between his fingers.
    “What’s wrong?”
    David just sat there. What could he say? That their affection for one another, so obvious during that tender moment a minute ago— “Nothing about you could ever be ugly to me.” —made David feel…unsafe? Worse, that he knew now he’d never be safe again, that he had lost the safety of his splendid isolation the moment Murdo Balfour had walked back into his life six months before?
    That every day made him more vulnerable? That the thought of their parting…
    “It’s nothing,” he lied. “I’m just—” He broke off.
    “Is it about Chalmers?”
    Guilt welled at Murdo’s assumption. How could he be thinking of himself when the only reason he was in this carriage was to see Chalmers one last time before he died?
    He swallowed. “Donald’s letter said he hasn’t long now.”
    “Don’t worry,” Murdo replied. “We’ll get you there on time.”
    The sudden reality of his friend’s imminent death struck David at that moment like a great wave. It swamped his heart with a powerful crash, then ebbed away, leaving behind a rocky debris of regret and grief that clawed at him.
    Life was very fragile.
    “I should go and see my family soon,” David said, surprising himself.
    “You miss them,” Murdo said, and it wasn’t a question.
    “Yes. They are good people.” Being with them nourished something in him, doing him as much good as the wholesome broth his mother made.
    Murdo smiled. “Well, you had to get all that virtue