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.
Her mother was much harder to deny when pitiful than when she acted like this mean person Cecelia hardly recognized. Anger stirred in her breast, and she squeezed Liam’s hand.
“No, Mama. I love Liam,” she blurted, hearing his sharp intake of breath at her words.
“Oh, Cecelia! You stupid, foolish girl,” her mother cried. “Love hardly matters! I have, just an hour ago, accepted a marriage offer from Blackmore on your behalf. You are betrothed, except for the technicality of formally accepting him yourself.”
Cecelia shook her head. “I cannot do that, Mama. I’m sorry.”
“You would willfully ruin me and yourself?” her mother moaned to Cecelia.
“Ye won’t be ruined, Lady Thornberry,” Liam assured her, wishing he’d had the chance to tell Cecelia the truth of his affairs in private first. But her profession of love still rang in his ears, and his chest squeezed mercilessly. He loved her, as well, and he feared suddenly that by holding the truth from her, he had risked losing her. Yet, surely, she would understand why he had done it, he told himself.
“Of course we will be ruined if the two of you were to marry! Laughingstocks and all poor as church mice!”
“Nay.” He shook his head. “I’m quite well-off. I’m laird of my clan, and it is very stable. My father sold a large tract of land before he died, and it enabled our clan to prosper once more with smart decisions and hard work.”
Cecelia pulled her hand from his as her mother gasped and exclaimed her pleasure. “Oh, Lord MacLeod! I simply knew it! I can explain my behavior.”
