“Just for steadiness’s sake,” she said, praying he would not refute her excuse.
“Of course,” he replied smoothly, though she vowed a look of triumph had flared in the depths of his eyes.
They skated hand in hand to the side of the bank, and then Liam encircled her waist with his arms. She gave him a questioning look, to which he replied, “Only to steady ye. I’d not wish to see ye fall and hurt yerself.”
“Oh yes!” she agreed enthusiastically, then winced at just how keen she had sounded about having his hands upon her.
Once they were both off the ice, Liam led them to their shoes, his hands releasing her waist. One hand remained lightly on the small of her back to guide her. She had never felt so possessed in her life, nor more aware of how dangerous this man was to her. He was not a danger physically, of course. She knew instinctually that he would not lay a finger on her without her express consent. Too much honor radiated from him. No, her heart was in danger of being stolen by him, or perhaps simply lost to him. It would most definitely be broken if she was foolish enough to lose it to him.
I must not be foolish.
She repeated the mantra as she took off her skates, put on her shoes, and followed him to the carriage where they had left a basket of food and hot chocolate.
“Should we wait on Aila and Lord Aldridge before we indulge in a bit of the fare Lord Aldridge’s cook sent with us?” she asked.
Liam glanced toward the ice and shook his head. “I think they will likely be awhile.”
Cecelia followed the direction of his stare and frowned. Aila and Aldridge were skating facing each other. Aldridge had hold of Aila’s hands, and it was quite evident that he did not know how to ice-skate. Yet, his deep male laughter and Aila’s sweet feminine laughter still filled the air. Despite not knowing what he was doing, Aldridge seemed to be having a grand time just being with Aila. Cecelia started to smile, but then frowned in confusion as she recalled that Aldridge had told her mother that going ice-skating today had been his idea.
“Do you think Lord Aldridge wished to come skating today to learn how?” Cecelia asked Liam.
“Nay,” he answered with such surety that Cecelia slowly turned her gaze back to him, curious how he could be so certain.
“Then why did he wish to skate if he does not know how?” she persisted when Liam was not forthcoming with more information.
“He agreed to it at Aila’s suggestion so I could have the chance to spend time with ye,” Liam said so casually that she almost missed the enormity of his confession. Her heart exploded in her chest as she watched him shake out the blanket he had taken out of the carriage, then let it fall to the ground in a cloud of soft white. When he was done, he faced her, his gaze expectant.
She had to say something, yet she could not say what she truly wished to say—that his words had caused gooseflesh to race across her body and fill her with happiness.
“Tell me about your home,” she said instead, sincerely wanting to know but also hoping to avoid any more personal conversation.
Disappointment flashed across his face so quickly that she would have missed it had she not been staring at him. An easy smile replaced the disappointed look, and he turned from her, grabbed the basket that was filled with food and drink, and held his hand out to her to help her sit down.
She bit her lip, hoping to steel herself against her reaction to him before she took his hand, but it was no use. The moment his fingers curled around hers, she shivered. She did not look at him for fear his eyes would hold the knowledge of how he affected her. Yet when his fingers tightened perceptibly around hers, she had no doubt that he was aware of how he made her feel.
Once she was seated, he released her hand. He removed items from the basket as he spoke. “Dunvegan is my home. I already told ye it’s on the Isle of Skye, which is the most beautiful place ye will ever behold in yer life. A loch and craggy rocks surround the castle on one side, and on the other are tall, lush trees and rolling hills. Skye is filled with waterfalls and secret paths and streams, and when ye ride out, whichever way ye look, ye will see animals grazing on green grass and towering, proud peaks beckoning to be climbed.” A faraway look swept into his eyes as he spoke of his home. “The air is fresh and the sky a brilliant blue, and ye can just about count on a drizzle of rain every day, which is what makes the land so verra green and glorious, with flowers of purple, yellow, and white. And of course, there is heather that fills the air with the scent of Heaven.”
Cecelia could picture Dunvegan in her mind, the wide-open spaces and land untouched by progress the way London had been. “I’d love to see it someday,” she said, not realizing how her words would sound until they had left her mouth.
Liam smirked at her, as if he knew she had not meant to say anything that could have been misconstrued, yet he seemed to understand that her enthusiasm at his description had swept her away. He poured a cup of hot chocolate and handed it to her. “Perchance ye will,” he said. “Ye never know what the future holds.”
“No,” she relented, “one never does. But one’s future is often shaped by many outside forces that compel choices one might not normally make.”
“Possibly,” he agreed. “But I’m striving to make choices using both my heart and my head.”
She could not help but smile. Liam exuded such raw masculine power, and to hear him speak of his heart made her own heart tug.
“And how has that gone for you in the past? Using both your heart and your head to make decisions?” she asked.
“I’ll have to let ye know,” he said, grinning slyly. “I’ve only recently attempted the combination.” His voice had dropped to a low, undeniably seductive tone, and his gaze moved slowly from her eyes to her lips.
Her heart pounded so loudly, she was sure he must have heard it. When his focus remained on her mouth, desire ignited. He did not move an inch, yet she felt the caress of his lips on hers as surely as if they had touched. Her breath hitched in her throat. “What are you thinking?” she asked, hoping conversation would cool the longing he created.
His gaze came to her eyes again and impaled her. “I’m thinking,” he said, his voice thick, “that if we were alone, I would kiss ye. What do ye think about that?”
She swallowed hard. “I think it’s a very good thing we are not alone.”
Whatever emotion her answer caused, his cool green eyes did not display. Instead, they narrowed a bit, and determination flared in his gaze. “And why is that, Cecelia? Do ye not wish for me to kiss ye?”
She should say no. She knew she should. The conversation was improper. He had no funds; she needed to secure her mother’s future to make amends for having a hand in destroying it. This thing, this undeniable attraction, could lead nowhere. Yet, she could not make herself lie.
“I do wish you to kiss me,” she whispered. “Truly, I do. But I should not wish it.”
“Why should ye not?” he demanded, his emotions now easy enough to recognize as anger tightened his jaw.
Heaven above! She had not wanted to have this particular conversation, yet not desiring it would not stop it. Humiliation burned her cheeks. “Liam, I’m not at liberty to do as I wish when it comes to matters of the heart.” She felt like a fool blathering on about her heart when they’d only known each other such a short time, yet she had to make it clear that they could be no more than friends.
He said nothing, simply stared at her with unblinking eyes. When she realized he was waiting for her to say more, she cleared her throat. “My father did not leave my mother and myself in the best financial situation.” Liam’s eyes narrowed a fraction, but she did not blame him for the displeasure they showed. Her words sounded horrid, even to her own ears. “I am somewhat to blame, I daresay, for all that has occurred,” she rushed out, wishing the conversation to be over. “And I… Well, you see, my mother needs me to make a good match…if it’s possible.” Her face burned so hot that she fanned it with her open palm.
He watched her
for a moment, his expression guarded yet slightly disappointed, but then suddenly, his face softened. “Tell me, Cecelia. In yer mind, what qualities must a man possess to be a good match worthy of being allowed to court ye?”
“He must be loyal, honorable, witty, and brave,” she said without hesitation.
He reached across the distance that separated them and took her hand in his. Even with her gloves on, the heat that radiated from his palm sent delicious shivers through her once more. “I know ye don’t know me, but if ye will give me a chance, I hope ye will find that I am all of those things.”
The only thing to say was, No, he could not have a chance. They could not have a chance. But her pulse raced and thoughts spun in her head. “What qualities must a woman you wish to court possess?” she asked in lieu of responding to his confession.
He smiled, looking much like a well-fed cat. “She must be loyal, honorable, witty, and brave.”
Her lips parted in shock. “You’re teasing me!”
“Never,” he said with such vehemence that she believed him. “Never would I tease ye about such a thing. If ye are willing to put yer trust in me, then I will put my trust in ye, and maybe together, we will discover something amazing. Are ye willing?”
She stared into his eyes, so persuasive and tempting, and the wish to say yes danced on her tongue.
“Miss Cartwright!” a voice boomed so near and loud that she jerked. When she looked toward the voice, she could not help but smile at the face of her one-time cohort, Blackmore.
He closed the short distance between them in a few strides, stopped in front of her, and glanced between her and Liam. The moment his gaze fastened on her hand in Liam’s, she realized that Liam was still holding it. She quickly tugged it away. She could not afford more talk about her.
Liam arched an eyebrow at her, which made her cheeks burn hotter. She hated to think he might mistakenly believe it was because of his station. It was merely because of her foolish past and her need for a smarter future.
“Cecelia,” Blackmore said, abandoning propriety as casually as he had always done. She kept her focus on him, afraid of what Liam must think.
Blackmore’s mouth quirked as if he might smile, but then it twisted into a jaded smirk. He had changed in the time he had been gone. His face, once boyishly handsome, had a lean, hard look about it, as if he had seen much that had matured him quickly. His eyes were no longer mischievous but wary, yet still blue as a blindingly bright day. He was still a very handsome man, but he did not compare to Liam. Liam was simply the sort of man who made all others fade into the shadows.
“Is this how you greet an old friend, Cecelia?” Blackmore hitched his eyebrows, and she realized, to her mortification, that she had been staring at him while thinking about Liam.
“Hello, Blackmore,” she replied. As she scrambled to get up, her heel caught on the edge of her gown. At once, both men held out a hand to offer her aid. She looked between the men, who were staring at each other with almost identical looks of irritation, and she nearly laughed. Thankfully, she managed to hold it in as she reached out and clasped Liam’s hand. He was, after all, sitting by her and, therefore, better positioned to aid her, she told herself. Yet she knew it was a bold lie. She had simply wanted to touch him one more time.
She didn’t miss the triumphant look Liam gave Blackmore. Clearing her throat, she waved a hand at Liam. “Your Grace, this is Lord MacLeod.”
“Cecelia, I told you years ago to call me Edward,” Blackmore said.
She could not help but glance at Liam. What must he be thinking of her?
She took a deep breath. “And I told you then that I couldn’t possibly do so.” A soft chuckle rumbled from Liam, and she positively knew it was because she had consented to call him by his Christian name in private but had not consented to do so with Blackmore.
Blackmore offered Liam a dark look before smiling gently at her. “As I recall, you also said you could not possibly wade into the water, but with enough persuasion, you did.”
She glared at Blackmore for being so inconsiderate as to remind her of that now. “And I paid for that dearly,” she replied in a cold voice, the initial feeling of warmth at seeing her old friend starting to fade.
“I have often thought of you,” he said, the statement simple yet so very complicated. His voice held undeniable regret.
Her forehead creased as she frowned. What was he doing?
“I don’t think Miss Cartwright has thought of ye,” Liam said in a voice that chilled her.
She jerked her gaze to him and was shocked to see his pulse ticking furiously at his jaw. Why, he looked livid! Was it because he was jealous? A little thrill shot through her that horrified her at once. She had no right to be happy if he was jealous.
His words of moments before replayed in her mind. He had asked for her trust and a chance to court her. She wanted to let him, but even so, how would she ever convince her mother to agree? Did she even have a right to ask? Wasn’t it her duty, after the problems she had caused, to marry as well as she could for her mother’s sake?
“Cecelia, did you hear me?” Blackmore asked.
She blinked at him. “No, I’m sorry.”
“I was hoping you would allow me to call upon you tomorrow and resume our last discussion.”
Her mouth gaped open. He wanted to speak of marrying her? That could not be correct.
He nodded, confirming that he had read her thoughts in her eyes. “Aldridge has told me a bit about your troubles. I know I can help if you will but allow me to. I have longed to do so, you know.”
“Come after noon,” she rushed out, wishing to make him quit talking. She could hardly believe he might still want to marry her, but if that was what he was trying to tell her, she certainly did not want him to do so in front of Liam.
Blackmore gave Liam a smug look that made Cecelia want to scream. Her heart did not flutter for the man, nor her pulse speed up, nor her thoughts swim, yet if he was offering, she had to accept, didn’t she?
He quickly took his leave, and the moment he was gone, she turned slowly to Liam. His face closed immediately but not so fast that she did not see the disappointment. She felt so wretched she wanted to cry.
“Liam, I—”
He pressed a gentle finger to her lips. “Ye do not owe me explanations. I see something in ye, Cecelia, something special.”
She had no notion of what to say to those amazing words, but before she could respond at all, Aila and Aldridge appeared. As the two of them partook in the packed food and drink, Cecelia found herself chatting incessantly, trying to fill the silence left by Liam, who sat looking rather distracted and distant. The more she talked, the more apparent she knew it became that something had occurred.
Aila gave her a curious look, and when Liam’s sister said they ought to be going, Cecelia had never felt so glad to escape, yet so disheartened to part with someone in her life. She was a confused mess, and it had only taken a few days for the handsome Scot to make her so.
Chapter Six
Liam awoke the next morning, determined to get Cecelia alone once more and secure an answer from her about his courting her. The only problem was that he knew her mother would not welcome a visit from him. He was contemplating this problem as he made his way downstairs, when Aila appeared at the bottom of the steps dressed in a riding habit.
He smiled at his sister. “Are ye and Aldridge going riding?”
“We are—along with Miss Cartwright and the Duke of Blackmore.”
Liam scowled at the mention of the duke who had spoken to Cecelia in such a personal tone and had gazed at her as if she were a fine whiskey he wished to drink. Liam did not like the man in the least.
Aila gave a soft laugh. “Ye look like ye wish to throttle someone, and I daresay, it is the Duke of Blackmore.”
“Ever astute, sister dear,” Liam replied.
“Do ye wish to come with us?” Aila asked.
“I most definitely do,” he insta
ntly replied.
Riding on her horse in Hyde Park between Blackmore, who had arrived at her home earlier than she had bid him and who her mother had fairly shoved her out the door to go riding with this morning, and then Liam, who her mother had reminded her would never do, was making Cecelia miserable. She wanted a man whom she could not encourage to pursue her, despite the way his nearness made her stomach flutter, but had to allow the pursuit of a man she did not want.
She simply had to get away from them or she would go mad. As the two men argued among themselves over who was the better rider, Cecelia tried to think of a plausible excuse to leave.
“I know!” Aila exclaimed, making Cecelia’s breath catch with a momentary ridiculous thought that the woman had somehow read her mind. But when she turned her attention to Liam’s sister, she was looking at Liam and Blackmore, as was Aldridge. No one was paying Cecelia any heed.
“Whichever one of ye wins the race may claim a stroll by the water with Miss Cartwright,” Aila said. “I’m sure ye both would agree that is a sufficient prize!”
Cold air hit Cecelia’s teeth as her mouth parted in shock. Before she could lodge a protest, both men had agreed and lined up their horses. Now she was not only stuck but she was going to be forced to be alone with either Blackmore or Liam, and she feared the outcome of either instance. What if Blackmore truly did offer for her once more? How could she turn him down when she knew how much it would help her mother? But if Liam won the race, and he perchance kissed her when they were alone, she feared she’d not be able to deny him, and then her heart would most surely be lost to a man she could not possibly have.
As the race started, she pushed her worries to the side and concentrated on the men. Both were excellent riders. Aila cheered her brother on, and Aldridge stood silent, likely fearing to show favoritism toward either man—one was a longtime friend, and the other his future brother-in-law.
Liam pulled ahead of Blackmore, and a surge of happiness filled her. It was then that Cecelia knew Liam posed the biggest threat to her. Had Blackmore won, she could perchance have managed to turn him from a conversation of marriage, but if Liam tipped her face to his for a kiss, she didn’t think she possessed the will to stop him.
Christmas in the Scot's Arms (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 3) Page 7