Read Online Duet by Eden Winters - Free Book Online Page B

spend a few precious moments playing his violin before retiring to bed. He sighed. It was gone now, damaged beyond repair, and acquiring another would require months of saving. You did the right thing, he told himself, his only consolation for losing what he’d once considered a dear friend.
    The nights grew warmer with each passing day, though his tower room, with its thick walls, remained chilly. While it might not be true in other households where he’d served, at Callaghan Castle a tutor didn’t rate a maid to start the fire each evening. He counted his blessings that servants at least lit the wall sconces at night, guiding the way. If he wanted a fire, however, he’d have to provide it himself. Yet when he pushed open the door, bright flames flickered in the hearth, and the tiny room appeared cozy and inviting for the first time since his arrival.
    He closed the door gently, grateful for the pleasant surprise without questioning his good fortune. His breath caught when he noticed the shadowy figure sitting on the bed. No doubt Aillil had noted his earlier reaction and now knew what he’d fought to keep hidden. Backing up to the door, he blindly groped for the handle, anticipating a beating or worse.
    Before his tired eyes registered the movement, Aillil stood beside him, callused hand capturing a wrist. Malcolm panicked, knowing those strong hands could snap his arm like a twig if the big man were so inclined. He swallowed hard, eyes roving upward. The expected hatred was absent from Aillil’s eyes, replaced by something Malcolm couldn’t name. His heart thudded against his ribs, and his breath came in short, harsh pants. Was this how Thomas felt after being caught?
    The moment stretched into eternity, his and Aillil’s eyes locked together, and he dared not turn away. Aillil’s hand remained upon his wrist, not restraining, merely resting there. Once able to think more clearly, Malcolm once more remembered poor, unfortunate Thomas, for different reasons. The hunger on Aillil’s face bore a striking resemblance to Thomas’s at their first meeting all those months ago, and his eyes held promise. Despite increasing dread, Malcolm’s body began to respond.
    “ Mael Caluim ,” Aillil began, voice a gentle rumble.
    “Why do you call me that?” Malcolm asked, snapping from his thoughts enough to wonder if this mispronunciation of his name meant another insult, like Sassenach. Had one hated slur been replaced by another?
    “Malcolm is English, Mael Caluim is Scottish.”
    Malcolm couldn’t believe they were having this conversation calmly in light of their previous heated exchanges. Aillil spoke to him casually, like an equal. “What?” Had he heard correctly? Aillil wanted him to have a Scottish name?
    The words were spoken in a soft, lilting accent, free of the guttural dialect he’d noticed among the locals, and Aillil knew far more of the English than the average villager seemed to. At some point in time, the Callaghan heir had received a proper education and now gave thought to the world outside the Callaghan lands.
    “If you’re going to live among the Highlands, you need a Highlander’s name.” Aillil snorted. “Malcolm comes from Mael Caluim , one more thing the English took from us to call their own. Or would you rather have a Sassenach name?” Amusement played in his eyes.
    “I would be called anything except Sassenach ,” Malcolm replied.
    He still expected to be punished for the revelation of his secret, a secret Aillil might share. There had been no mistaking the hard length of flesh grinding against him when he’d lain beneath Aillil during Fox and Hounds. Had Aillil noticed being answered in kind?
    Aillil released Malcolm’s arm and returned to the bed. Malcolm briefly reconsidered bolting through the door and running, but where would he run to? Besides, his curiosity wouldn’t allow him to leave without finding out Aillil’s purpose. The room hadn’t been warmed for naught.