Free Duet by Eden Winters

Liquid fire pooled in Malcolm’s groin as he watched the play of shadows over his bed and the man standing next to it. For one brief moment he imagined himself sprawled upon the mattress, watching Aillil shed a mass of woolen tartan to slide beneath the blankets.
    Shaking his head to clear the vision, Malcolm took a deep breath and let it out slowly, composing himself. A lifetime spent in hiding couldn’t be easily overcome.
    Aillil plucked something from the bedside table and turned back around. By the fire’s dim light, it took Malcolm a moment to realize what he held—a violin. Aillil drew closer, and Malcolm realized that it was no ordinary violin, but the most stunning example he’d ever encountered. He simply must hold that artfully crafted wood and release the music that had been locked deep inside him since the destruction of his own.
    “Ma… may I?” His voice trembled. All thoughts of himself and Aillil on the bed together scattered. He reached out a shaking hand.
    Aillil smiled in answer, extending the instrument. Malcolm took the offered treasure, fingers reverently caressing its smooth surface. He would never be able to afford such luxury; the fine workmanship of its creation destined it for someone of means. Stepping nearer to the fire’s light, he examined the prize closely. The intricately carved scroll, the pegbox, the bridge—all absolutely flawless, the workmanship of a true master. He turned wistful eyes to Aillil, who handed him a bow before settling on the bed. Aillil’s eyes twinkled in the firelight.
    Malcolm longed to play more than anything, but wouldn’t be hurried. Instead, he took the time to acquaint himself with the instrument, tuning strings and running his fingers over the fingerboard, like he might explore a lover, had he possessed one. When at last bow joined fingers on the strings, the sweetest, clearest notes emerged. Malcolm closed his eyes and smiled in rapture. The room, Aillil, and all else disappeared except for himself and the violin.
    Malcolm had no idea how long he played or what melodies, and he may have continued forever had not a hand fallen on his arm. He opened his eyes with an apologetic grin, the wonderful moments shattered by reality. No matter how he might wish otherwise, it wasn’t his. He handed the violin back to its rightful owner, holding on for as long as possible.
    Aillil took it from his reluctant hands. “Thank you for tuning it for me,” he said. Malcolm saw something he’d never expected to from the big, rough man—a smile, aimed at him. From behind the Highlander’s broad back came another violin. “Now, I believe yours requires tuning before we continue our lessons.”
    Eyes darting back and forth between the gift and the giver, Malcolm’s heart raced. It must be a joke, an exquisite offer made so Aillil could reclaim it and laugh. “Don’t you like my gift?” When Malcolm didn’t answer, too overwhelmed to speak, Aillil added, “Yours was lost defending my brother. It’s the least I could do.” The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, making him appear less sinister.
    Fingers trembling in nervous anticipation, Malcolm accepted the precious gift, barely managing to squeak out, “Thank you.” He marveled at this exquisite piece of workmanship, afraid to close his eyes lest it disappear. Until today, he’d never seen anything so fine, let alone hoped to own it. His brow furrowed and he studied both violins, realizing that, far from being unique, his matched Aillil’s perfectly.
    “They’re brothers,” Aillil explained. “Go on, tune it! I wish to learn a song.”
    Malcolm took great care with his tuning. Once satisfied, he drew the bow across the strings, slowing the melody to allow his student to observe. Aillil hesitated a moment before joining in.
    They practiced for a while, Aillil missing a few notes here and there, and then he’d watch intently before trying again. Occasionally Malcolm would assist with finger