Page 20 of Christmas in the Scot's Arms
“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.
