Once both men had taken off their coats, and Hawkins his cravat, they faced each other. “What are the rules?” Hawkins demanded.
Liam offered a grim smile. He’d been fighting barefisted since he was a wee lad. It was somewhat of a sport in his clan. “’Tis simple,” he replied. “The first man down is the loser, and payment is due within two days.”
Hawkins’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “But of course.”
“When Aldridge signals, we start,” Liam added.
Hawkins nodded, Aldridge gave the signal, and Liam watched, fists raised, as Hawkins began an odd sort of dance. The man shuffled to the left, and then the right, and then back again. He jabbed as he did so, and Liam merely leaned one way, then the other, to avoid the man’s punches. But as he did so, he mentally counted beats in his head. Two beats and Hawkins would dance to the left again. One beat and Liam would strike.
Beat.
Liam sent his fist straight at his target. He didn’t mind the impact or the sound of crunching bone in the least. He did, however, mind Hawkins’s howls of pain. They were rather annoying.
“Do ye want more?” he asked Hawkins as he swayed on his feet.
The man turned rage-filled eyes on Liam. “I’m going to bloody well—”
Whatever Hawkins was “going to bloody well” do, Liam would never know. He shot his fist out to connect nicely with the man’s jaw. Hawkins’s head jerked backward, and the man stumbled, then crumpled to the ground. He sat on his bottom, blood now gushing from his nose and bottom lip, which Liam realized he must have grazed. He stepped toward Hawkins until he loomed over the man. And then he waited. It took a minute, but Hawkins finally glanced up at him.
“That is how a Scot fights,” Liam said. He turned on his heel, took his coat from Aldridge, and wasted no time heading back to London.
Chapter Seven
“Lord MacLeod,” Cecelia’s mother said the next afternoon, not bothering to hide her discontent at his arrival at her home, “I’m sorry to inform you that Cecelia is riding in the park with the Duke of Blackmore.”
Liam doubted the woman was at all sorry to tell him that, and her next words confirmed it. “Do not bother calling again,” she said in a hard tone. “Cecelia has gone riding with His Grace every day for a week.”
Damnation. Liam clenched his teeth. Blackmore had no doubt known Liam was with Aldridge in the country, had seen his chance to pursue Cecelia, and had taken it, not that Liam blamed the man.
“What time do ye think she might return?” he asked.
“I hardly know,” Lady Thornberry snapped. “But as I said, I think you are wasting your time. As you are not from here and hardly know my daughter, I’m sure you are not aware that Blackmore courted Cecelia very actively before he went off to fight Napoleon. I’m certain he never lost his fondness for her. I’d not doubt if he offered for her today.”
Liam wouldn’t doubt it, either. What he didn’t know was how Cecelia would respond.
“Cecelia is anxiously waiting for this to happen,” her mother continued. “She will accept him, Lord MacLeod.”
Blocking out the doubt that tried to speak in his head, he nodded to Lady Thornberry. “Thank ye for making everything so clear to me.”
For a moment, the lady looked truly sorry, but then it was as if she hardened herself against the emotion. Her shoulders went back, and her chin jutted up. “Good day to you.”
“Whatever are ye doing back so soon?” Aila inquired as Liam strode into the drawing room at the Rochburns’ home a short time later.
He fell into the chair opposite his sister. “She was not there. Her mother informed me that she was riding in the park with the Duke of Blackmore, as she apparently has done every day since I departed. Lady Thornberry also made sure to tell me that Cecelia would accept an offer of marriage from Blackmore, if one was forthcoming. And the woman was quite certain one would be. It seems Blackmore was courting Cecelia before he went off to fight Napoleon.”
“Oh, Liam!” Aila cried. “I am sorry. Why do ye not tell her the truth about yer situation now?”
“Ye know why,” he growled.
Aila nibbled on her lip while reaching for her drink, which was sitting on the table. As she did so, she knocked something to the floor. “I almost forgot! A note came for ye!” she exclaimed, reaching for it.
Liam took the note his sister held out to him, broke the seal, and quickly read its contents.
Lord MacLeod,
If you’d be so kind as to call on me at 1:00 p.m. sharp today, I would appreciate it.
All the best,
Elizabeth Burton
He lowered the note and found Aila watching him curiously. “Well?” she demanded, blunt as usual.
“I’ve an invitation to call upon a dear friend of Cecelia’s.”
Aila arched her eyebrows. “And will ye?”
“Of course,” he said with a wink. “Cecelia might be there.”
“Tell me of your ride with the Duke of Blackmore,” Elizabeth said to Cecelia.
Cecelia stared into the crackling fire for a moment. “It was pleasant. He’s changed a great deal in his time away. He’s much more serious now, but in a good way. Yet—” she quirked her mouth in thought “—there are things about him that are the same. He still holds disdain for the ton and the rules they demand be followed. And he is still unapologetic for going against the ton’s dictates, except he has begged my forgiveness a hundred times for the part he believes he played in my social demise. I told him that I’d made my own choices.”
“So you did,” Elizabeth said.
A slight sharpness in her tone drew Cecelia’s attention to her friend. “Are you cross with me?”
“No, my dear! I am worried about you. I see what is happening. You are allowing your mother’s wishes to dictate the choices you make. You don’t brighten at all when you speak of Blackmore, but the one time you spoke of Lord MacLeod, you positively glowed.”
Despair filled Cecelia. Liam had made her feel things she had never felt—strange, wonderful things. She had been unable to put him out of her mind, despite trying, but he had apparently had no problem putting her out of his mind. He’d not come to see her since they had shared their kiss. She told herself it was for the best, but that did not make it hurt less.
She felt Elizabeth’s stare on her. “You know my situation,” Cecelia said. “If I had acted like a proper lady, I would not be where I am today.” Her throat ached to finally speak the truth of her heart. “Perhaps Papa would still be alive if I had been married before his ruination and he’d not had the worry of me on top of everything else.”
“You cannot blame yourself for your father’s death.”
Cecelia sighed. “Can I not?” She was not entirely certain.
Elizabeth shook her head.
Cecelia gave a faint smile. “I have no dowry, and Mama does not have enough funds on which to live comfortably. What choice do I have but to marry well?”
When Elizabeth simply stared at her, as if she thought there were, indeed, another choice, Cecelia became frustrated. “If Lord MacLeod did have a tendre for me—which his lack of attempt to see me shows he does not—how could we possibly make a go of it? He said himself that his clan has seen hard times, just as the others.”
Elizabeth scowled. “You need luxury, then, to love a man?”
“Heavens, no!” Cecelia exclaimed. “All I truly want is love, but what of my mother?”
“She could come live with you, if you ended up wedding Lord MacLeod. He looked quite capable of caring for you and many others. I sincerely doubt ‘hard times’ means you would not have food or a roof over your head.”
Cecelia contemplated Elizabeth’s words as the memory of Liam’s lips on hers stirred her blood. She feared her heart had been lost to him the moment his lips met hers, perhaps even before when he had bought her the book of poetry.
“Mama would never consent to go live in Scotland,” she murmured, not wanting to hope yet
it sprung within her as she replayed the kiss. She was only human, after all, and the heart wanted what it wanted, despite the utter foolishness of it. Liam had desired her. Perhaps he had not come around because he feared she would deny him. But if she saw him and encouraged him…
“If your mother refused to go, that would be her choice. You must make yours, for you are the one who has to live with the decision forever. If it were me, having to part with the trappings of luxury would not compare to having to part with the man I loved, and if your mother truly loves you and wants to see you happy, she will think the same.”
Elizabeth’s words struck like a stake to Cecelia’s heart. She realized that she agreed completely with her friend, yet she knew well how her mother felt about Liam. She’d made it clear when Cecelia had mentioned that perhaps he might court her.
Cecelia once again stared into the fire as she considered everything. She knew her mother loved her, and that her mother was scared for both their futures so was doing what she thought was best.
“My lady,” Cooper said, snapping Cecelia’s thoughts away from her troubles and to the butler.
“Yes?” Elizabeth replied.
“Lord MacLeod is here to see you.”
“Then, by all means, show him in to the drawing room, Cooper.”
As Cooper nodded, then hurried to do Elizabeth’s bidding, hopeful expectation burst within Cecelia. But nervousness swiftly followed. She turned to Elizabeth. “Did you invite Lord MacLeod here?”
“I did,” Elizabeth replied, matter-of-fact.
Cecelia swallowed hard, trying to stifle the worry that he’d be irritated when he realized she was here. “What if he does not care to see me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, my dear. Any man with two good eyes would wish to see you.”
Before Cecelia could reply, Liam was suddenly there, consuming the doorway. Cecelia gulped at the sight of him. He was even more beautiful and more virile than she had remembered. He wore tan breeches that appeared to be made of soft leather that molded to his legs like a second skin and made her belly tingle. His white cambric shirt was open at the collar where most Englishmen would have had it closed and worn a cravat, he did not. Liam’s skin showed all the way down to the top of his chest. As he and Elizabeth exchanged polite greetings, Cecelia ran her gaze over him, soaking up every glorious detail.
Suddenly, Elizabeth stood to leave, making an excuse that she needed to get something from her bedchamber. She parted in a swish of skirts, and then Cecelia found herself utterly alone with Liam.
“Hello, Cecelia,” he said, his voice rich, deep, and music to her ears.
“Hello, Liam,” she returned, wincing at her breathlessness.
“May I sit?” he asked, motioning to the space beside her on the settee.
As he did so, she noticed his hand was cut on his knuckles. “What happened to your hand?” she asked, bringing her eyes to his face.
He did not respond at first but strode across the room and sat next to her, so close that their legs pressed against each other’s. Blood surged from every part of her body to the places where they touched.
He turned the full force of his gaze on her, not bothering to hide the fact that he was staring at her. “I had to teach a cocky Englishman a lesson,” he replied, giving her such a galvanizing look that a tremor coursed through her.
She barely resisted the urge to fan herself. “Who was the man?”
Liam shifted his body to turn more toward her, and his knee bumped hers. She said a silent prayer that he would not move it, and when he didn’t, she could barely control her smile. A smile tugged at his mouth, as well. “A verra annoying fellow by the name of Lord Hawkins.”
Cecelia gulped.
“Do ye know him?” Liam asked, studying her.
His eyes held a knowing look that made her sure he already knew the answer to that question. “Yes,” she said, not bothering to disguise her disdain. “We were betrothed for a short time, but he broke it off.”
“Ye must tell me some time why he would do such a thing. He’s surely a fool.”
Liam’s words made her heart squeeze.
“He is a fool, indeed,” she managed, and then blurted, “Where have you been?”
“Do ye care?” he asked with quiet intensity.
Her heart thundered almost painfully. Now was the time for a choice as Elizabeth had said: choose the possibility of love, or the possibility of a marriage of comfort. She wanted to grasp at the hope of love, and maybe, just maybe, it would be hers.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I care. Very much.”
He reached out and ran a lone finger up her arm, trailing gooseflesh everywhere he touched. “I thought ye might not, as I heard ye have been riding in the park with the Duke of Blackmore every day.”
“Who told you that?” she asked, surprised that someone would speak of her to Liam at all.
He smiled. “Yer mother. I went to call on ye earlier when I returned to Town—”
“You were away from London?” She gasped. “I thought mayhap— Well, I thought that—”
She simply could not say it.
His hand suddenly came to her cheek, his touch like a hot brand upon her skin. “Ye thought ye had scared me off?”
How was it he could always read her thoughts? She didn’t know, but she adored it.
She nodded.
“I can assure ye, Cecelia, I don’t scare easily.”
His eyes held so much passion and tenderness that she had to curl her toes on a wave of desire and contentment.
“Have ye made a choice, then, between me and Blackmore?” he asked point-blank.
“I didn’t realize I had a choice to make,” she said, trying to make light of the conversation, which was rapidly growing serious.
“Ye know verra well that ye do,” he replied, his tone not amused at all.
She sobered instantly. Fear was making her behave unlike herself, like a scared mouse. She wanted to be a lioness. “I think of him as a friend,” she stated firmly.
“Does he know that?” Liam asked gently.
“Well, I have not come out and bluntly said it, but I have avoided anything that might lead him to think otherwise.”
Liam’s eyes narrowed and took on lethal glint. “Like a kiss?”
“The only kiss I have shared, as of late, has been with you,” she replied, completely breathless. She felt drugged by his closeness. As he leaned toward her, she closed her eyes, wishing with all her heart that he would kiss her once more.
“Here we are!” Elizabeth boomed.
Cecelia shot away from Liam as if he were on fire. He, on the other hand, casually draped his arm along the back of the settee. “What have ye there, Lady Burton?” he asked.
Elizabeth offered him a knowing smile that made Cecelia giggle. “Here,” she said, holding up a sloshing bowl, “I’ve raisins soaked in brandy. This was always a Christmastide game we played in my home. My husband and I used to do it, but I’ve not done it since his death. I thought maybe…perhaps the two of you would play the game with me?”
“How do we play?” Cecelia asked, rising as one with Liam.
Elizabeth gave them a sly grin. “We blow out the candles, light the brandy, and try to grasp a raisin and eat it without getting burned.”
“But that’s very dangerous!” Cecelia exclaimed.
“Everything worth doing in life has risk, Cecelia,” Elizabeth replied, and Cecelia knew in that moment that her friend was referring to Liam, not the game.
“All right.” She nodded. “I’ll attempt it if Liam will.” She gave him a challenging look.
He winked at her. “I cannot verra well let a lady make me look scared.”
Soon the candles were all blown out, the brandy lit, and each of them took a turn trying to grasp a raisin. Liam was the only successful player, and after much laughter, they quit the game and settled in front of the fire with cups of hot chocolate while Liam regaled them with stories of his childhood and his
family.
With every word he spoke, her certainty that she had unwittingly given her heart to him grew.
Elizabeth nudged Cecelia. “The sky is growing dark. Won’t your mother be expecting you?”
“Yes, but she thinks I’m still riding in the park with Blackmore. I had him bring me here, instead of home. She won’t fuss so about my lateness since she thinks I’m with him.”
Foolishly, she had not thought about how her words might make Liam feel, until she glanced at him and saw a pinched look on his face. Biting her lip, she rose and prayed he might offer to walk her home. When he did, she nearly sagged with relief.
Once they were outside, it struck her that she did not even know why he had fought with Jonathan. As they strolled toward her home, she glanced at Liam. “Why did you fight with Lord Hawkins?”
“Because,” Liam replied, his voice hard, “Aldridge told me that Hawkins needed to marry for money, and I deduced that ye likely told him of yer father leaving ye and yer mother with scarce funds. From there, it was a short leap to the obvious fact that the blackguard had devised a way to exit yer betrothal yet be looked upon as the victim and, therefore, make it likely to catch an unsuspecting, rather naive lady as his next victim—yer friend, Lady Matilda.”
She looked at him, wide-eyed. “I suspect the same thing! What I have never understood was why Lord Tarrymount would do that to me…”
Liam’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know, either, but I vow to find out and make the man pay.”
Cecelia paused in front of her home. “You would do that for me?” she asked, amazed.
He reached out, grasped her hand in his, and very slowly pulled off each finger of her glove. Then he brushed a delicate kiss to the tip of each of her fingers. She was trembling all over by the time his eyes, burning with desire, met hers.
“Ye have bewitched me, Cecelia. I would do anything for ye. And I have something I need to tell ye,” he said, his fingers curling tightly around her hand.
The front door of her home burst open then, and her mother stormed out. “Cecelia, go inside,” she said in a steely tone.
Christmas in the Scot's Arms (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 3) Page 9