Page 12 of Christmas in the Scot's Arms
Lord Northington tipped his hat to them and then strode by with a chuckle. Embarrassment churned in her stomach. She turned her head away, praying the cool air would lessen the redness she was sure marked her cheeks. Behind her, she heard Liam shift. She had to turn around, she had to explain, but words failed her. How could she explain her disgrace to a man she hardly knew? She was trying to work it out in her head when a horrific notion hit her.
She faced Liam and found pity in his eyes. Knots filled her stomach. Lord Tarrymount must have mentioned something already for Liam to look at her so. She simply had to know.
“Did Lord Tarrymount say anything about me to you?”
He did not answer right away, but he did not need to. Wariness crept into his eyes, and her heart crashed to her feet.
“He did,” Liam said, hesitating as if he was taking her measure, or perhaps deciding if he would say more.
She barely resisted the urge to press her hands over her ears as humiliation crashed over her, followed swiftly by anger. She stared at the beautiful man before her. She was a blithering idiot. Feathers for brains, that’s what she had. Had he thought her a woman of easy virtue and, therefore, intended to pursue her? That made much more sense than him having a genuine interest in her.
“I see,” she finally replied, though her words were jerky and stiff. “I hate to disappoint you, Lord MacLeod—”
“Liam,” he reminded her with an easy smile that simultaneously made her chest squeeze and infuriated her. How could he affect her so? She had only just met him,andhe had proven to be a blackguard!
“Lord MacLeod,” she said, perfectly aware she sounded like a shrill shrew, “I am not interested in a romp, contrary to what you must have been told and obviously believe.”
His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared as she shrugged out of his coat and threw it toward him, then turned on her heel and quickly marched away.
For a moment, all was silent behind her, and then his footsteps were approaching quickly. She hurried onward, determined to reach her house and the sanctuary it offered. Just as she made it to her front steps, her foot slipped on a slick patch of ice—again—and she careened backward. Liam caught her and pulled her against his hard chest, then set her gently away and turned her around.
There was a lethal calmness in his gaze, yet she could see his jaw twitching. He was angry. He tugged a hand through his hair, then spoke. “I do not think ye are interested in a romp, Cecelia.”
“B-but Lord Tarrymount—” she sputtered.
“Warned me to stay away from ye because of some nonsense about not being in the good graces of theton.”
“Oh dear,” she mumbled, horrified at how she had acted. Before she could say more, the door opened and her mother stood there gaping at her.
“Cecelia!” Mother gasped, looking between her and Liam. “Where have you been?”
“The market took longer than I expected,” Cecelia lied, hiding her book behind her back and shooting Liam a pleading look. A frown appeared between his brows, but he did not refute her story. “I almost fell on the ice, and Lord MacLeod here caught me.” Never mind that it had happened yesterday, too.
The glare on her mother’s face instantly disappeared, and a smile took its place. “LordMacLeod, you say?”
Cecelia nodded as dread settled in her stomach. She knew how much her mother wanted her to make a good match. Once she realized Liam was not wealthy, however, Cecelia feared the worst.
“Where are you from, Lord MacLeod?” Mother demanded. “I don’t recognize your name.”
“The Isle of Skye, Lady…?”
“Oh dear me!” Cecelia cried out. “Lord MacLeod, might I present my mother, Lady Thornberry. Mama, as I’m sure you have gathered, this is Lord MacLeod.”
“Has your clan been greatly affected as most others?” Mother asked to Cecelia’s mortification, ignoring her daughter and going straight to the topic that interested her most—whether or not Liam had any money.
Liam nodded, and Mother’s friendly smile disappeared. Her lips pressed together as Cecelia had feared. “I see,” she replied curtly. “I am terribly sorry about that. Cecelia!” Mother’s sharp voice made Cecelia cringe. “Hurry inside before you catch a chill.”
With how hot her mortification was making her, Cecelia was positive catching a chill was not a worry she needed to consider. She offered Liam an apologetic look. “I’m awfully sorry about earlier, and well—” She shrugged and cast a helpless look toward her mother—“everything. Please,” she said, lowering her voice as her mother turned to go inside, “don’t judge my mother too harshly. She has not always been so—”
“Friendly and welcoming to strangers?” Liam supplied with a wink.
Cecelia had to smother her laugh. “You are very kind,” she whispered. He could have been angry at her mother’s dismissal of him based solely on her discovery that he was not a catch, yet he was generous about her less than charitable attitude.
“Cecelia!” Mother called, her tone impatient. “Now, if you please.”
She didn’t please, not at all. She wished to linger for a moment more and stare into Liam’s beautiful eyes, which seemed to look upon her without judgment. But with a farewell wave of her hand, she turned dutifully toward the gray door. She did not have the luxury of falling for a gentleman like Liam, however wonderful he seemed.
