Page 10 of Christmas in the Scot's Arms
“I suppose the Scot you just met, unless there is another gentleman vying for your attention.”
Cecelia quickly shook her head. “There is no other. In truth, there is not even him. And I cannot afford to be fanciful.”
“I will afford it for you, then,” Elizabeth said on a harrumph. “I’m an old woman, and I suspect I don’t have much longer to live.”
Cecelia tsked at her friend. “Don’t be ridiculous. You have years yet to enjoy. I’ll make the ball with you, but I cannot take it home. I would have no way to explain it to Mama.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, frowning. “I hadn’t thought of that. That’s such a shame, as the only man ever in this house is Cooper, and I doubt you want a kiss from him.”
“I shall pass,” Cecelia said with a giggle.
For the next half hour, they worked on the ball as Elizabeth relayed a story about how her parents had first met at a party on Twelfth Night. Her father had found the bean in the Twelfth Night cake, which meant he got to pretend to be the king for the night, and her mother had found the pea, which meant she got to pretend to be the queen. They could each choose a partner they wanted to spend the night talking to, and they had chosen each other.
When the clock chimed two o’clock, Cecelia jumped up to leave. “I better hurry,” she said, the continued heavy snowfall outside the window catching her attention.
“Miss Cartwright,” Cooper interrupted as he appeared in the drawing room door. “There is a Lord MacLeod here who says he has come to escort you home.”
Cecelia’s heart leaped with excitement. “Where is he? The study?”
“Certainly not,” the butler replied, his tone a protective one she had never heard before. “I was not about to let a stranger into this home without ensuring you know him and would like him to escort you home.”
Cecelia frowned. “Do you mean to say you left him standing outside in the snow?”
“Of course I did,” Cooper said with obvious pride.
“Cooper!” Elizabeth said, slowly rising to her feet, Cecelia assumed to scold her butler. “You are a genius!” Elizabeth crowed, motioning to him. “Make haste, my man, and secure the kissing ball over the front entranceway!”
Cecelia’s mouth dropped open. When Cooper started walking toward the mistletoe ball to do Elizabeth’s bidding, Cecelia gave herself a little shake. “Elizabeth, no! I do not even truly know Lord MacLeod.”
“Pishposh,” Elizabeth replied, brushing past Cecelia in a surprisingly spritely manner. Clearly, scheming put a spring in the woman’s step. “I’m not suggesting anything indecent. It’s customary, after all.”
“Where?” Cecelia demanded. Her mother had never indulged in that particular custom.
“In my home,” Elizabeth returned, and before Cecelia could protest further, Elizabeth was breezing out the parlor door while issuing orders to Cooper on how to quickly and correctly hang the kissing ball.
Cecelia actually had to double her step to try to catch up with Elizabeth, but by the time she reached her, Elizabeth was stepping around the chair Cooper had already managed to drag in front of the door, and her friend opened it—to Cecelia’s great horror—just as Cooper announced triumphantly, “’Tis done, my lady. There was already a hook there.”
As Elizabeth greeted Liam and introduced herself, she motioned him in while Cooper quickly moved the chair out of the way. Before Cecelia could even contemplate what to do, Liam filled the door, towering over her, Elizabeth, and Cooper, who stepped out of the way, and then turned and quit the entrance hall.
Liam reached up, his coat straining against his massive shoulders, and brushed the snow out of his hair. Cecelia had the sudden desire to sigh, but she managed to hold it in, even as wet tendrils of hair curled against his forehead, enhancing his appeal. He looked utterly, perfectly ruffled. And he had, Cecelia decided, the most beautifully proportioned body she had ever seen. The muscles of his long legs—slightly spread—bulged against his tan breeches, and she could see that his arms filled out his coat just as fully as his shoulders. She had only just noticed he did not have on a cravat when her eyes took on a will of their own and feasted on the exposed skin of his neck and the very top of his chest.
When Elizabeth coughed delicately, Cecelia wrenched her gaze to Liam’s eyes, which danced with amusement. “I cannot abide the cravat,” he offered. “I’ve tried, but I’m afraid this is as civilized as I get. Aila says ye can take the man out of the Highlands, but ye cannot take the Highlands out of the man. I hope my bare state does not offend ye.”
“Not at all,” she replied, fighting to keep from gawking at his chest once more. “Whatever are you doing here?”
His face, unfashionably bronzed by the sun yet achingly handsome, softened even as his burning eyes made her catch her breath. “I took a turn around the park after ye hurried away, and when it started to snow, it occurred to me that ye may verra well need assistance to yer home with the delicate slippers ye have on. I’d not be able to sleep tonight worried ye might take a fall again and not have anyone there to assist ye.”
Her mouth parted with as much shock as pleasure. He’d been concerned for her?
She glanced at Elizabeth, who was grinning like a loon at Liam.
“I sh-should be going,” Cecelia said slowly.
“Oh yes,” Elizabeth agreed, so readily that suspicion shot through Cecelia just as Elizabeth gripped her by the arm and dragged her in front of Liam with shocking strength. “My goodness!” she exclaimed. “You two are standing under my Christmastide kissing ball!”
Liam’s brow wrinkled. “Yer what?”
Cecelia could feel heat practically pouring off her body from embarrassment. “It’s of no importance,” she rushed out, which elicited a scowl from Elizabeth.
