he didn’t need the light to find his way. He’d been traveling this route nightly since he was a small child, but tonight he was so tired, more in spirits than body, that he wished he had someone to carry him like all those years ago. That was how strong the desire to forget—just for a little while—was, which was saying something for a man who prided himself on independence.
Running his hand across the rough-hewn stone wall of the circular stairwell, he continued up the stairs. He made it to the first landing and paused beside Red’s door. The urge to knock was strong, but there were no lights bleeding out from under the door. Red had been badly shaken by the discovery of the bodies tonight, and Ciaran did not want to wake him if he’d managed to sleep. Hell, Ciaran was envious because he wasn’t so sure he would be able to sleep tonight. He continued up the next flight of stairs and trudged down to the end of the hall.
Firelight seeped out from under his own door, and he made a mental note to thank the maids tomorrow morning. He opened the door and blinked against the light, though it only took seconds for his eyes to adjust to the fire, but when they did, all thoughts of exhaustion fled Ciaran’s mind.
Red sat on the end of Ciaran’s big canopy bed, with his bare feet dangling over the footboard. He leaned back on his hands, staring at the fire, wearing only an untucked shirt and a pair of trousers. His hair was tousled, and the fire cast a glow on his pale skin. The brown-and-green-plaid bed curtains on the far side of the bed were already closed, leaving only the side closest to the door and the end open. It was intimate and romantic at the same time.
Funny, he’d never imagined himself a romantic, but Red inspired him.
Turning his head and dropping it backward, Red smiled softly at the sight of Ciaran. The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but the relief in those eyes said he was happy to see Ciaran. “Hi. I hope you don’t mind me waiting for you.”
“Nae at all.” Relieved at the intrusion and feeling oddly invigorated, Ciaran shut the door and divested himself of his sword. He couldn’t help but notice Red followed the claymore with his eyes, and his face shuttered for just a moment. Red didn’t care for all the violence it symbolized to him, but to Ciaran it symbolized life. Without the sword, he would not be alive, neither would his loved ones. Including Red.
Whoa. Ciaran froze at the thought. There was so much to contend with at the moment, he had not planned on falling in love, but God help him, he’d done so. He could no longer imagine a life without Red. He did not want to; the thought was painful. It was all he could do not to tear his kilt and shirt off and dive at the bed, just to assure himself Red was really there. With a grin, he sat in the ladder-back chair next to the door and started working on the laces of his boots. “What brings ye here?”
“I can leave if you like.” Red grinned again, and this time his eyes joined the party.
“Nae. Ye are here now. I dinna think I will let ye leave till morning. Maybe nae even then.” Ciaran loosened one boot and set it aside.
Lying back on the bed, Red rolled to his side, bent his legs behind him, and rested his head on his hand. His shirt rode up, exposing several inches of Red’s stomach. Och, but that midsection was bonnie. The firelight played lovingly over the peaks and valleys of lean muscles. A small expanse of red hair tantalized as it disappeared into his trousers. “Good, because I don’t want to leave.” His gaze trailed down Ciaran’s body. “I figured we could both use the distraction of each other’s company.”
Ciaran chuckled as he worked on the laces of his other boot. Red was definitely a distraction… in a very good way.
“What did the council say?”
“I dinna want tae talk about the council. It is nae important.” Red was having a hard enough time dealing with the realities of death without Ciaran adding worries to that. It was quite a boon to realize Red would worry for him, even though he had no desire for Red to do so. He’d never been in a