His sister turned her gaze from him to where Cecelia was dancing, and her mouth thinned. “I’d not be angry, but ye may want to try simply cutting in first. It would cause less tongues to wag, and I have a feeling Cecelia would appreciate that.”
He nodded, and though he wanted to stride right onto the middle of the floor, he waited for Cecelia and her partner to move closer to the edge so he could intercede as discreetly as possible. Luckily, the room was so crowded that it would not be too noticeable when he did cut in. When they got so near that he could have touched Cecelia’s sleeve, he did. She turned her head toward him, and the delight that crossed her face made his chest tighten.
“Miss Cartwright,” he said, “I believe this was to be our dance.”
“Oh yes!” she exclaimed, giving him a look of pure gratitude. “Lord Reeves, I am terribly sorry, but I forgot I promised this dance to Lord MacLeod.” Cecelia stepped away from the man, who reached out as if he was going to grab her.
Liam immediately moved between them and turned his gaze on Lord Reeves. “Ye’ll excuse us,” he said, barely controlling his anger. Perhaps the depth of his brewing ire could be heard in his tone or seen on his face, for Lord Reeves shuffled backward with a nod.
“Of course,” the man said.
As Lord Reeves moved away, Liam took Cecelia by the hand and brought her into the circle of his arms. Without a word, he moved them away from his grinning sister, marveling at the way Cecelia stirred desire in him by simply being near.
She tilted her head up and gazed at him with her dark, enthralling eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I was most uncomfortable and was trying to think how to end the dance.”
“I could see ye were,” he replied. “In this dance and the last.”
Her eyes widened. “You were watching me?”
He’d not meant to admit that, but now that he had, he nodded, refusing to lie about it. “I was. I’d been hoping ye would come to the ball, and when ye appeared, I could not take my eyes from ye.”
A grin appeared on her face, but it quickly faded. Her dark lashes fell to hide her gaze, and then they rose once more. Embarrassment shone in her eyes as her cheeks pinked.
“I saw those two men fail to give ye the respect ye deserve,” he commented, guessing that was what was causing her obvious shame. He felt her tense under his fingertips. He considered abandoning his desire to know why she danced with the men, but he found he had to know.
“Why would ye agree to partner with such men?” he asked.
Her eyes darted to her right where her mother stood glaring at them, and then she turned her gaze back to his. Something dwelled there that looked suspiciously like regret. “One is a marquess, and the other is a viscount. Mama insisted.”
He had thought perhaps that was the case, yet he needed to be certain. “Ye don’t seem happy that such eligible gentlemen asked ye to dance.”
Anger swept over her face, which surprised him. “Those men, like most everyone else in the ton, clearly think I have no morals. I warned Mama, but she refuses to hear it. She is determined that I marry well.” As soon as the words flew from her mouth, she gasped. “I am sorry. I don’t know what came over me to have said something so blunt. I always vow to be proper, but every time I’m with you, I seem to forget that vow.”
When she moved as if to pull away, he gripped her more tightly. “Please don’t. I like that ye speak plainly, and I don’t believe for a moment that ye have loose morals.”
“You might if you knew what happened.” The despair in her voice made him angry on her behalf and ignited a wish to protect her. It was strange to feel such a thing for someone he hardly knew, yet he did and could not explain it.
“Tell me, then,” he said softly.
She turned her head away and spoke slowly. “I was caught in the arms of a man who was kissing me…a man who was not my betrothed.”
He frowned. He could not imagine her being untrue. “There must be more to the story than that,” he urged.
When her eyes met his, he could see the shock in them. “Do you know you are the first person to acknowledge that I might not have willingly kissed another? Even my own mother—” She bit her lip. “Well, I daresay, she thought I had a hand in my downfall, but I likely gave her reason to think so. Everyone, really. You see, I was not very good at following the rules of Society as a proper young lady should. I have always laughed too loud, raced horses when I ought not.”
“Shocking,” he teased, thinking upon his own sister who had always done such things, as well.
Cecelia gave him a perplexed look, as if trying to decide if he truly thought it was shocking or if he was goading her. “I once took off my shoes and stockings and frolicked in the waters of the Serpentine with a gentleman friend.” She looked at him as if expecting him to run.
He barely resisted the urge to draw her near and kiss her. This woman did not have loose morals. She had a love for life that was too great for the stuffy confines of London. “I’m envious,” he said in a low voice that throbbed with clear desire.
Her lips parted, and she inhaled a sharp breath. “Oh my,” she finally murmured as the music ended. They stood there, unmoving. “You are quite surprising.”
“As are ye.”
“Cecelia!” Her mother’s shrill voice bludgeoned Liam’s eardrums. He and Cecelia looked at once toward the lady.
Cecelia let out a long sigh. “Mama.”
“It’s time to depart,” Lady Thornberry said. “I have a megrim.”
Disappointment besieged Liam when Cecelia nodded, though he could tell it was reluctantly so by the look she gave him.
“Go along and say your farewells to our hosts, Cecelia,” her mother added. “I will follow.”
Cecelia frowned but moved to do as she was bid. “Good night, Lord MacLeod. Perhaps we shall see each other again soon.”
“I think not,” her mother answered before he could. The woman was a giant splinter in his thumb; however, she was Cecelia’s mother so he held his tongue.
The moment Cecelia was gone, her mother turned to him. “Lord MacLeod, might I be blunt?”
“By all means,” he replied, feeling sure that even if he had said no, she would have done as she pleased anyway.
“My daughter is not for you. Please turn your attention elsewhere.”
He suspected Cecelia’s mother was saying this because she thought him lacking in funds, and she had apparently not yet been enlightened. He could tell her so now, but he wanted a bit more time to get to know Cecelia without the trappings that came with his status being known.
Lady Thornberry gave him an expectant stare, and he knew she wished him to consent. That he could not do. Instead, he said, “How do ye know yer daughter and I would not suit? We’ve only just met. I daresay, neither of us even knows it.”
“I know it,” she snapped, “and Cecelia will do as I say. She owes it to me.” With that, Lady Thornberry left him and disappeared into the thick crowd.
Suddenly, Aila was standing by his side. “I could not help but overhear,” she said, giving him a concerned look.
“Ye mean ye were lurking and listening when ye ought not have been?”
Aila scowled. “That is a matter of perspective, brother dear. I am happy and in love, and I want to see ye the same.” She plucked her hands on her hips, which meant she was about to give one of her lectures, which was highly amusing since he was laird. “Ye could make things much easier for yerself with Cecelia’s mother by telling her that ye are wealthy.”
“I could,” he replied evenly, “but I prefer to know for certain that Cecelia likes me, despite her thinking I have nothing to offer other than myself.”
Aila grinned. “Just as Father did to Mother!”
Liam nodded. “And Grandfather did to Grandmother.”
She quirked her mouth. “How far back do ye think the tradition goes?”
He shrugged. “I’m uncertain.”
“Ye’d not be the first laird
to take an English bride. Remember the story of Lady Marion, and how our ancestor Iain married her to help save the king?”
“I remember,” he said, chuckling, “but no one has said anything about me taking an English bride. I just met Cecelia.”
“I know,” Aila replied, but he could see the dreamy look in her eyes. It was the same one she got whenever she talked about Aldridge. “But I see something between the two of ye. Some spark I’ve never seen with ye and any lass before.”
He felt it, too, but he didn’t say so. He knew better than to encourage his sister. She had a tendency to mettle when she should not, and her meddling had a habit of bringing confusion and chaos instead of clarification and order.
“Will ye call upon her?” she asked.
“I’d like to, but I don’t think her mother will welcome it.”
“I’ve an idea for that,” Aila said, motioning to someone. Liam turned to find Aldridge headed toward them.
The marquess stopped in front of them, nodded congenially to Liam, and then smiled at Aila with obvious adoration. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Ye found me,” she replied, slipping her arm into the crook of her betrothed’s. “I’ve a favor to ask.”
“Aila,” Liam said, suddenly sure it had something to do with him and equally sure he did not want her dragging Aldridge into his personal matters.
Aila pointedly ignored him. “Liam would like to become better acquainted with Miss Cartwright—”
“For God’s sake, Aila!” Liam growled.
She scowled at him, and Aldridge narrowed his eyes in Liam’s direction, which actually pleased him. He was glad, indeed, that the man had a natural instinct to protect Aila, though she certainly needed no protection from Liam.
“Shh,” Aila hissed. “Ye stubborn oaf! Richard, Miss Cartwright’s mother believes Liam to be poor; therefore, she will not be open to Liam courting her daughter.”
Aldridge gave Liam an amused look. “Do you wish to court Miss Cartwright?”
Did he? He thought he might, but he didn’t intend to stand here discussing it. “Perhaps,” was all he was willing to say.
“Why do you not tell Lady Thornberry and Miss Cartwright the truth?” Aldridge asked.
“The same reason ye led me to believe ye were a poor commoner, Richard,” Aila said in a chiding voice.
Liam scowled. “Ye lied to my sister?”
“I did not lie,” Aldridge rebutted, looking offended. “I merely did not correct her assumption about my person. ’Tis different.”
Liam was about to argue that it wasn’t, but in doing so, he would be diminishing the strength of his own reasoning, so he nodded his agreement.
Aila snorted. “And they say women are the schemers…”
Liam and Aldridge exchanged an amused, guilty look.
“I had grown tired of being chased because I was going to be a duke someday,” Aldridge said.
“And I, a laird,” Liam added.
Aldridge nodded. “In Scotland, I saw the perfect opportunity to reinvent myself, so to speak, when I met your sister.”
Liam immediately thought of Cecelia. “I understand.”
“What do you need me to do, MacLeod?” Aldridge asked.
“He needs ye to come up with a way to get Miss Cartwright out of her home with her mother’s approval, so that he may have a chance to spend time with her. Perhaps ice-skating on the Serpentine,” Aila suggested triumphantly.
“You clever, clever lady,” Aldridge said with pride. “I can go in two days. I have business to attend to for the next day that will keep me rather tied up.”
Two days seemed like an eternity, but with no other option, Liam nodded his agreement.
Chapter Five
Cecelia could still scarcely believe she was sitting beside Liam, but as Aldridge’s carriage hit a hard bump and Liam shot a hand out to steady her, she knew it was not just another lovely dream. His touch even lingered for a moment before disappearing. Over the past two nights, she had dreamed only of him. And oh, what dreams they had been! But after enduring her mother’s lecture directly after the ball about why Cecelia could not encourage Liam’s attention—and her own surety that Liam would never call on her after the way her mother had treated him—Cecelia had been positive she would never see him again.
In addition, Cooper’s granddaughter, who worked at the Rochburns’ home, had told Elizabeth’s butler that Liam was planning to return to Scotland soon. When Elizabeth had mentioned it, Cecelia had felt such a wave of loss that she had made a hasty excuse to go home, where she spent the rest of the afternoon staring up at the ceiling in her bedchamber, silently bemoaning her fate.
This morning, when there had been a knock at their door and she had heard his voice, she had been certain she was imagining it, but when she glanced down the stairs, he’d been standing there beside his sister and Aldridge. Aila had inquired if Cecelia could join them in ice-skating, and Cecelia had held her breath in fear that her mother would say no. But when Aldridge had commented that he would watch over her, as he and several of his friends were also going—in particular, the Duke of Blackmore—Cecelia had known that Mother would allow her to attend.
Mother had never truly given up hope that Blackmore would one day realize he wished to marry Cecelia. Her mother knew very well that Blackmore had talked her into racing horses in Hyde Park, and that he had convinced her to remove her stockings and shoes to wade in the water of the Serpentine, but apparently Blackmore had now been forgiven by her mother. He was a duke, after all. Mother had been livid when Blackmore had not appeared to offer for Cecelia’s hand when the whispers had started after they had frolicked in the water, but what her mother did not know was that Blackmore had offered and Cecelia had declined. She had not felt a special spark for him, but simply thought of him as a good friend. Yet, had she known how much damage those choices would cause, she might have accepted his offer purely to ease her parents’ burden and the worries that came later. But she had not known, and when her father’s gambling problem first came to light and they had ordered her to accept Jonathan’s marriage proposal, Blackmore had long departed London, having defied his father’s wishes, as Aldridge had his father’s, and gone off to fight Napoleon. She had been glad for Blackmore, though, never begrudging or angry.
Cecelia stole a glance at Liam to find him assessing her. Her heart skipped several beats. She liked him very much. He made her feel something she had never experienced in her life—a strange stirring in the pit of her stomach, a rush of heat through her blood, a tightening in her chest, and delicious pinpricks across her skin. She thought perhaps he might find her intriguing, as well. He had said she was surprising, had kissed her hand so tenderly, and had told her he believed in her.
A smile tugged at his lips, and she could not help but return it. Still, she lowered her gaze, almost fearing the intense feelings he caused in her. She stared at his large, strong hands, which looked as if they could protect her from anything, but she knew well that looks were deceiving. Jonathan had looked harmless, yet he had inflicted great harm. And Liam, for all the strength he appeared to possess, would not be able to protect her from the guilt that would likely kill her if she did not secure a good match that allowed her mother to avoid living in poverty.
The unfairness of it all made Cecelia’s stomach ache. She should not have come today! She had known Liam such a short time, yet she already mourned the loss of what might have been. Preposterous! Mayhap today she would find they would not have suited at all and she could rid herself of the sadness.
An hour later, swishing along the ice with the cool air blowing against her face, Cecelia pumped her legs as hard as she could in an effort to beat Liam to their designated finishing spot. When she reached it before him, she threw up her arms in victory while giving a very unladylike shout of joy and doing a twirl to show off her skills. It was the twirl that did her in. Her left skate slid away from her and down she went, straight into Liam’s waiting arms.
His arms encircled her and pulled her, gently and tightly, against his hard chest. As she grasped him to steady herself and her fingers gripped his arms of steel, she turned her face to his to thank him. Green, probing eyes met hers, and her breath caught in her throat. Today would not be the day that she learned he did not suit her. Every moment with him led her to discover more about him that suited her perfectly.
“You seem to always be there to save me,” she murmured, feeling drugged by his masculinity and nearness.
“I’m glad of it. What man would not wish to save such a lovely lass as yerself?” he replied in a deep tone that made heat pool in her belly. He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Ye look bonny with yer cheeks all red and yer lips so rosy.”
She could feel his eyes raking over her mouth, and she was filled with a desire to know how he would kiss. Would it be perfect like the kiss she had always dreamed of receiving that would steal her breath and her senses, and send her heartbeat soaring? In that instant, she realized they were quite hidden from the view of the other skaters, and he could easily steal a kiss if he wanted to do so. His eyes took on a predatory gleam, and she knew he realized it, too.
An ache of longing coursed through her, so strong that it shocked and frightened her. She could not let him kiss her. She feared that if she did, her resolve to do what was needed would be permanently lost.
She pushed out of his arms, his eyes widening in surprise. “I’m very thirsty. And cold,” she added, though she was blazing hot from her wanting of his lips on hers.
“I can take care of both those things,” he said, and she was awfully glad he was not going to pursue stealing a kiss, nor question her abrupt shoving out of his arms.
He held his hand out to her, and she looked at it, debating with herself. She wanted very much to take his hand, but it was probably best not to indulge in such an intimacy when she knew perfectly well she could not allow it to go further. Yet, heaven help her, she reached out and grasped his hand anyway.
Christmas in the Scot's Arms (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 3) Page 6