Library

Twenty-five

J udith was so pleased with Richard for having brought Captain Lockhart home that she showed her great appreciation for his thoughtfulness and matchmaking attempts by reviving their marital relations.

Which in turn meant that, in spite of the following day being a very dreary and wet one, Lord Peasedown was smiling brightly and walking with a spring in his step not witnessed by the house staff in several weeks. Although he was somewhat surprised to find Captain Lockhart already in the small drawing room off the back terrace, he assumed Filbert had shown him in, and left it at that happy thought, unwilling to think of anything but the image of a naked Judith perched pleasingly on his groin.

What he did not know was that Filbert had not let the captain in. It was a smiling parlor maid who, having seen the rough-hewn gentleman with the intriguing scar the day before in the company of her employers, had assumed it perfectly all right to show him through the house when he arrived that morning looking terribly confused about the various entrances and speaking with such a delightful accent. This much she had confessed (with pinkened cheeks and sparkling brown eyes) to Liam as she led him about the ground floor of the mansion.

The guided tour was appreciated, but it was not exactly necessary, since Liam had roamed the house in the early morning hours (his skills at espionage quite intact, thank you) in an effort to determine the exact location of Ellen's suite of rooms. He knew the general area, of course, having hidden himself in the woods around the Peasedown mansion after leaving the drive the night before. From there he saw the light flooding the suite of rooms just above the ground floor shortly after his departure. He knew instinctively that it was her light, brought on by her nervous little scamper to check on that goddamned beastie.

But to make doubly sure of it, he had crept back into the house through a window he had noticed unlatched in the main drawing room. From the main drawing room, he had crept up the grand, curving staircase, past what he was certain was the master suite (judging by the sounds of lovemaking he heard coming from within), and down to the opposite end of the hall.

Unfortunately, his mission to exact his revenge was interrupted by the unexpected sound of a child's whimper. Standing there in the hall deciding just which door to try first, he had heard the child's sound, had known immediately who it was, and had crept to the door, pressed his ear against it, listening carefully. The instant he determined Natalie was crying, some strange and preternatural paternal instinct kicked him right in the arse; he had carelessly walked into the room without fear of discovery, only to stand there in shock, for he had not known that it was possible to sob so hard in one's sleep. When she opened her eyes and saw him hovering over her, so distraught was he by her unconscious sadness that he had not known what to do other than to promise her that he would indeed rescue her and her mother from this evil castle.

And then he silently cursed female tears to the blazing pits of hell .

So it was Nattie's unintentional doing that kept him from having his way with Ellie and retrieving the beastie.

Disturbed by it, Liam had returned to King's Lynn in the handy curricle and napped a few hours before returning to Peasedown Park, determined more than ever to have his beastie and be gone by the morrow. When the sun had finally crept in behind some ominous clouds, he was standing at the east entrance to the mansion feigning a look of confusion, claiming not to know which of the grand entrances was the grandest after all. It wouldn't hurt, he reckoned, to know more than one exit route, for there would be no more distractions. With renewed vigor, he would exact his revenge. Today.

The parlor maid had brightened like a morning flower when she found him, smiling broadly and leading him about the various rooms of the ground floor before finally depositing him in the small drawing room overlooking the back terrace. And had he not been so consumed with thoughts of the only woman he had ever loved, he might have taken the lass up on her offer to "help him in any way."

Unfortunately, Ellie, miserable creature that she was, was constantly in his thoughts. What a cruel thing for her to be the one woman in all of God's creation he should fall in love with. He despised her for it, deplored her betrayal, but he still, inexplicably, loved her, and seeing her yesterday had almost been his undoing. Never had he felt such mixed emotions—on the one hand, wanting to squeeze the life from her, and on the other, wanting to draw her into his arms and kiss the breath from her. There were moments he felt almost swept away by his grief. But then he'd recover with a feverish shiver and want to strangle her all over again .

It was a vicious little thing going on inside him, and it was, therefore, bittersweet news when Peasedown suggested that as the weather was "frightfully awful," they should postpone their shoot and indulge his wife and Miss Farnsworth by playing parlor games. "After luncheon, of course. Which naturally you'll take with me. Judith does not care for luncheon. But then we'll while away the afternoon by amusing the ladies. Until supper, of course, which naturally you will take with all of us."

Parlor games. Sounded perfectly tedious. Mared was terribly fond of them, but he and Grif preferred cards to the silly games women concocted. Nevertheless, this would afford him the opportunity to get his beastie and quit King's Lynn altogether. Before he did something remarkably stupid. Like kiss her and suffer another thousand consequences for it, bloody stupid fool that he was.

"Thank ye," Liam said. "I'm rather fond of shooting, I am, but in truth, I'm fonder of the company of ladies."

"Ah," Peasedown said, chuckling. "As to that—" He paused, looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening in a room that was completely vacant, save the two of them, and said, "My lady wife is very much on your side in this matter." He inched closer to Liam. "I must warn you that she fancies herself a bit of a matchmaker, and can be rather zealous about it at times. Do you take my meaning?"

"Aye, I do," Liam said, trying hard not to smile. "And I'm no' above admitting I could use all help proffered," he added with a wink.

"Splendid!" Peasedown all but shouted, puffing up like a peacock. "Well, then! Shall we lunch, sir? A man can hardly match wits with a woman on an empty stomach, can he?"

Truer words, Liam thought, were never spoken.

While the two gentlemen finished up their luncheon and hied themselves to the green salon for parlor games, Ellen was suffering Judith's attentions, the intent of which was painfully obvious. One could not have known Judith for more than twenty-five years and not see the old girl was gleefully matchmaking, even with Judith vehemently denying it. "I couldn't possibly find time to concern myself with your lovers, Ellen…or lack of them."

It had started with a review of her wardrobe, Judith insisting that Ellen's "tiresome" and "dowdy" day gown was really not even suitable for the cold weather. Actually, her gown happened to have been one of last Season's most favored styles, and according to Eva (who had given it to her), it had received quite a lot of fine compliments the two times she had worn it. The fashionable gown, like most of Eva's castoffs, did not show Ellen's bosom to its greatest advantage. At least not like the overtight gown Judith made her don—the insufferably tight, ridiculously low-cut gown out of which she was practically falling. But Judith would not have it any other way—they argued a good quarter of an hour until Ellen finally gave in and threw up her hands. What did it matter? If she could survive one more day, she'd be gone.

They marched down to the green salon, Judith prattling on about how charming and delightfully rustic Liam was. Ellen said nothing, but pressed her lips firmly together to keep from groaning to Judith that her charming and delightfully rustic Scot would just as soon see her flayed open than alive, and if given the opportunity, would do the honors himself. But really, she did intend to be gone before that happy occurrence. If only she could have a moment of peace to think.

Naturally, therefore, it was to Ellen's great shock and even greater chagrin to find Liam comfortably ensconced in an overstuffed armchair in the middle of the green salon. Again. With little Sarah and Charles and Natalie seated at his feet, making a pretty picture of country bliss. Ellen could not have been more perturbed if Liam had managed to steal the beastie from her.

She should have known from Judith's great grin as a footman opened the door to the salon, or suspected from Judith's early-morning call to her dressing room, that something unexpected might happen. And of course she should have suspected that there would be no shooting today, with rain coming down in buckets. But she had been too tired, too wrapped up in her own problems to think about that. Her inability to anticipate was, she thought irritably as she crossed the threshold, going to be her most spectacular downfall.

Liam grinned jovially as she entered the room.

"Mother!" Natalie cried, seeing her and rushing to Ellen's side. "I told you he had come to rescue us!"

"Oh my darling!" Judith laughed as she fondly ran a hand over Natalie's head. "How precious and silly you are!"

"Ah, what a lovely sight to behold on such a dreary morning," Liam said pleasantly as he came to his feet.

"Captain Lockhart," Ellen responded stiffly, and received a not-very-well-disguised elbow in the ribs from Judith.

"My dear Captain Lockhart, you are to be commended! For in spite of having all your plans dashed, you've agreed to spend the entire day with us! I assure you our day will be made infinitely brighter with your presence!" Judith sang as she took Ellen's elbow firmly in hand and marched her forward.

"Ah, but 'tis I who am pleased beyond comprehension," Liam spouted like a bloody dandy as Judith made Ellen extend her hand with another sharp jab to the side.

"Then I suspect your level of comprehension must be rather shallow, sir," Ellen said as she watched him bow over her hand, then lift his head with a smile and a sparkle in his eye that was just a little too gleeful to suit her, "for we are, as a whole, rather tedious and tiresome company."

"On the contrary, Miss Farnsworth, my comprehension is keener than ye understand. I could no' be more pleased if I were asked to dine with the king himself."

Ellen all but snorted and yanked her hand from his grasp. "What a pity that couldn't have been arranged."

"Dreadfully awful out," Richard was saying by way of explanation. "Couldn't shoot a thing even if we wanted, and I daresay we'd be swimming."

"Hmmm," said Ellen.

"Of course, you couldn't possibly go out in such horrid conditions!" Judith assured her husband. "I say a round of games is in order. Children! Come along, if you please! It's time you all adjourned to the nursery," Judith said as she sailed toward the bellpull.

The children dutifully came to their feet, but Natalie rushed to Ellen's side. "Mother, please let me stay!" she pleaded in a whisper, pulling on Ellen's skirts.

"I'm sorry, darling, but children belong in the—"

"But what if Captain Lockhart leaves without us?" she whispered desperately.

Inadvertently, Ellen looked up; Liam's eyes reflected her sadness for Natalie, and she felt as if a weight had been attached to her heart, pulling it down, sinking it into the mire that was suddenly her life. "He will certainly leave without us, Natalie. But I won't, I will never leave you. Now go on with you, off to the nursery."

"There's no need to send them off, Lady Peasedown," Liam tried. "I very much enjoy the company of children, I do."

"How generous!" Judith said happily, and shot Ellen what could only be termed a smirk. "But I rather think their governess has lots for them to accomplish today. We pay her handsomely enough for it, certainly. All right, then," she said, ushering Sarah and Charles toward the door, "Miss Peckinpaugh is waiting."

Natalie sighed and let go her grip of Ellen's skirt, looking terribly dejected. As the two Peasedown children left the room, she exchanged a glance with Liam, and Ellen saw something pass over his careful expression. He cared about Natalie. He truly cared about her strange little daughter.

Ellen's heart sank deeper into the mire as she kissed the top of Natalie's head and sent her to the nursery. How would she ever explain to her daughter that she couldn't have both Liam and her freedom? She watched Natalie walk out the door, lagging behind the other children. As the footman closed the door, Ellen turned listlessly, caught Liam looking at her, his expression a peculiar mix of anger and sympathy. This was too much—the sadness inside her was beginning to beat like a drum, and Ellen fell onto the nearest chair, staring morosely at one of the large, paned glass windows and the rivulets of water cascading down, forcing herself to think of her most immediate problem—what exactly was she to do now? With Liam underfoot, she'd never be able to slip away!

"It's rather cold in here, Richard," Judith was saying. "We should really bring someone round to stoke the fire a bit. I have a splendid idea," she continued cheerfully as Richard moved to stoke the fire, "Why don't we play a game? I haven't played charades in ever so long—"

"I despise charades, Judith, you know that," Richard said gruffly .

"I've a game, if ye donna mind the suggestion," Liam said. "One we particularly enjoy in Scotland. It's called Truth or Consequences. Do ye know it?"

That caught Ellen's attention.

"No!" Judith exclaimed, obviously delighted. Yes, well, neither did Ellen, but she did not like the name of the game at all. Nor did she particularly care for the diabolical little glint in Liam's eye.

"Simple, really. One player challenges another with the truth or a consequence. For example, I might challenge Miss Farnsworth. Truth or consequence, Miss Farnsworth?"

Oh, no, she really did not like the sound of this game. Ellen waved her hand flippantly at him and looked away. "It sounds to me a perfectly silly game, Captain Lockhart," she said coolly.

"Oh, come on, then, Ellen! It's all in fun! And what more do you have to do on such an appalling day?" Judith cried. "Truth or consequence?"

Dear God, why had she come to Peasedown at all? "Judith, I really prefer not—"

"Perhaps it would be best if I demonstrated with yer husband, Lady Peasedown," Liam said, shoving his hands in the pocket of his buckskins and walking casually to the hearth.

"Yes, yes, I'm rather keen to try," Richard said, putting the fire poker down and turning toward Liam. "How is it played?"

"If ye choose truth, I may ask ye whatever I like. If ye donna answer, or we catch ye in a lie, the person asking the question may choose yer consequence. If ye prefer not to risk the ugly truth," he said, smiling at Judith and Richard as if nothing could be more preposterous, "then I might name yer consequence."

"What jolly good fun!" Richard said, and eagerly assumed a seat, his hands braced against his knees. " All right, then, I'll choose ‘truth.' Certainly I've nothing to hide!" he said, laughing.

"May I go first?" Judith quickly interjected. "I've a question for my lord husband." Liam nodded; Judith eagerly sat up, her back ramrod straight. "Dearest, do you recall the afternoon you were late returning from your club?" she asked sweetly.

Richard immediately colored. "What afternoon?" he asked, laughing nervously and looking at Liam. "I go every afternoon, Judith, so I can't possibly guess which—"

"The afternoon of fourteen September."

The color drained from his face. "But…but that was so long ago, my love—"

"You arrived well past the dinner hour and you said that you had stopped off to have a word with Doctor Stafford. Do you recall now, dearest?" she asked sweetly.

Now white as a sheet, Richard looked desperately from Liam to Ellen, then to Judith again. "Why, this isn't very enjoyable at all! I prefer a consequence, actually," he said stiffly.

Judith smiled. "What a pity, that—for you, dear heart. For the inability to remember clearly your whereabouts on the afternoon of fourteen September, 1816, I decree that your consequence shall be the purchase of the divan I saw in York, which you refused me on the grounds I had overspent my allowance. And I think the consequence should be paid with presentation of a banknote at once to your wife, Richard." She smiled triumphantly.

Richard gaped at her. But a moment later, his shoulders sagged, and like a defeated man, he rose and stalked to the desk at the far end of the room, from which he withdrew a sheaf of papers and a pen, and hurriedly wrote something. Then he stalked to the sideboard, where he poured himself a generous serving of whiskey. "Go on with it, then!" he said irritably.

Judith beamed at Liam. "I think I should like this game!" she proclaimed. "You go next, Captain Lockhart. Who will you ask?"

"Why, Miss Farnsworth, naturally." He was leaning against the mantel, one leg crossed over the other, his arms folded at his chest and his smile terribly mischievous.

"I should like not to play," Ellen said instantly.

"Oh, don't be such a killjoy, Ellen!" Judith scolded her. "Say ‘truth.' What would Captain Lockhart ask you that could possibly harm you in any way?"

Blast it all! Judging by Liam's deepening smile, she was in for a time of it. Ellen fussed about her skirt, tried to prepare herself. She would not accept his consequence, not being quite ready to die. But then again, she shuddered to think what he might ask her: "Miss Farnsworth, did you break into the Lockhart mansion in Mayfair and steal a beastie that rightfully belonged to me? And did you run away from your father? And did you not betray me? Miss Farnsworth, are you in fact a liar and a thief?"

"All right, then, if you want me to play so terribly much, I'll play. I'll choose ‘truth,' Captain Lockhart."

"Ah," he said, nodding thoughtfully, and straightened, clasped his hands behind his back and strolled to stand in front of her. "Very well, then, ‘truth.' " He paused; his eyes narrowed on her, as if he were considering his many choices. "Miss Farnsworth…have ye ever been in love?"

The question shocked her. "Wh-what? I beg your pardon?" she sputtered, flabbergasted.

"I asked, have ye ever been in love? A simple question really, Miss Farnsworth—an aye or a nay would suffice, then. "

Judith and Richard had turned their full attention to her, delightedly watching her like some performing circus animal. Ellen looked at the three people staring at her and thought she had finally gone round the bend, had no idea which way was up or down any longer. Was she truly sitting in this room, with these people, playing some childish game with the man she had stolen from? And jilted? Had he honestly just asked her if she had loved him? The nerve! All right, he was aggrieved and all that, yes, of course. But this! This was plainly the most vulgar of manners! "Yes!" she said emphatically, to which Judith clapped her delight and Richard laughed.

Liam, however, did not laugh. He just looked at her with no expression at all, which left her even more bewildered.

"'Tis yer turn, Miss Farnsworth," he said quietly.

"Marvelous! I choose you, Captain Lockhart. Truth or consequence?"

"Truth," he said without the slightest hesitation.

"Have you ever been in love?"

Liam chuckled low and shook his head. "Never."

Strangely, Ellen's heart plummeted; she felt very suddenly a fool, a reckless, silly fool.

"Until very recently," Liam added calmly, to which Judith did what was becoming an altogether too frequent little swoon, and Richard laughed nervously, as if he had sensed the game had moved beyond the absurd, and helped himself to more whiskey. But Liam made no expression at all—he simply kept a steady gaze on her until Ellen had to turn away.

The play went from her to Richard, who desperately wanted Judith to choose truth, and groused when she refused. "Very well, then, you leave me no choice. Your consequence is to hie yourself upstairs and bring me the pearl bracelet. "

Judith gasped with outrage. "I'll do no such thing!"

"Madam, you agreed to the terms of this game, and as you refuse to give me the truth, I will have that damn bracelet as my consequence!"

Positively and obviously furious, Judith suddenly sprang to her feet and started marching for the door. "You'll have your bloody bracelet, all right!" she snapped.

"Judith!" Richard cried out, and was suddenly chasing after her. "I'll not stand for your impudence, madam!" he shouted after her, and Judith's reply to that was muffled by the great distance she had managed to already gain from her husband.

They were alone again. Ellen jerked her gaze to Liam; he was looking at her with a predatory expression. Instantly, she came to her feet, prepared to run if she must, but Liam chuckled low, obviously enjoying her discomfort. Ellen frowned as she backed away from him. "What a lovely little game you have brought us, sir."

"What is it, then, lass? Does it make ye feel a wee bit uncomfortable?"

"No!"

"I rather thought it seemed appropriate for the occasion. After all, it is the game we are playing— have been playing, eh? Truth or consequence? Granted, I have had yer consequence forced on me against me will, but I thought 'twas certainly appropriate all the same."

"Dear God, Liam, I know you are angry—"

"Ha!"

"—and if you want to embarrass me, if you want to expose me, then go ahead and do it. But why not leave the game playing to the children?"

"God blind me," he said, shaking his head. "How could ye forget so soon, Ellie? How could ye forget who started this awful game? No' me! Ach, no, I thought we were two people caught up in extraordinary circumstance, who had found each other in spite of it all, if only for a moment in time. I never thought it was a game, and I never thought we were anything but honest with one another. What a goddamn fool I was, eh? Aye, ye started this game, Ellie. But I intend to finish it." He lowered his head and took a step forward.

Fear and fatigue spiraled in her gut—Ellen started for the door, but Liam caught her easily, jerking her around and crushing her up against the wall with his body, looking down at her with a face twisted in anger and confusion. He grabbed her chin and held her head back so she was forced to look at him, to see the pain there. "How could ye?" he breathed as his eyes wildly roamed her face. "How could ye make me love ye, then betray me so?"

Tears welled in her eyes; she caught a sob in her throat and whispered hoarsely, "I didn't want to do it!"

"Bloody liar," he growled, and moved his hand slowly from her chin until his fingers were splayed against her neck, holding her captive against the wall. For a split moment, Ellen feared for her life as she watched a thousand emotions sweep across his dark green eyes. But then Liam shocked her by suddenly kissing her, his mouth indignantly devouring hers, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth, searching for an answer, kissing her with all the angry emotion he felt. His knee pressed hard against her legs, forcing them open, so that he could hold her aloft with his leg. One hand went to her breast, caressing it roughly.

Ellen could feel his erection against her belly, hardening, and it was more than she could bear, more than she could endure. Helpless, hopeless, she responded to his primal call, her body lifting to his, pressing her breast into his palm, her hands running up and down his strong back while her body moved wantonly, riding his thigh. She wanted to memorize the feel of his body against her, every hard length of him, to hold him close one last time. All the emotions that had been boiling beneath the surface the last few days were suddenly bubbling out in that scorching kiss—all the overwhelming guilt, the gnawing hunger, the frightening uncertainty of what would happen to her now. To them now.

But her responsiveness seemed to dishearten him somehow; Liam suddenly let go of her, pushing away, pushing her out of his arms. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping that dangerously passionate kiss from his lips as he considered her. "If I were a shrewd man, I'd go to me grave without asking ye. But I'm no' a shrewd man, I'm a simple man, one who had the bloody misfortune to fall in love with the likes of ye, Ellie. I canna help myself…I want to know, then, when ye said ye had ever been in love…did ye mean me? Or did ye mean Natalie's father?"

The need in his voice stabbed at her heart; she felt her knees begin to quake and pressed her hands to her breast, pushed her racing heart down as she cried out, "What difference does it make now?"

"It makes all the difference in the goddamn world to me! What did ye mean, then, Ellie? Me or him? Did ye ever love me, or did ye think to betray me from the beginning?"

That stung her badly. " Liam! You don't understand—"

"The hell I donna understand, Ellie! Ye left me bound up like a Christmas goose under the pretense of making love! Ye stole the one thing that can save me family! Ye know what it means to me just as well as ye know I'll take it back. Yer betrayal is done; I'll no' pursue it further, and we can go on with our lives. Just…answer me! Answer me now, or I will make ye answer me with yer friends present, I will make ye feel the humiliation ye put on me! I…I must know, Ellie."

Dear God, he must have truly loved her; and she had hurt him deeply. She could see it in his eyes, the clench of his jaw, the fist at his side. That dreadful mix of hope and pain on his face. "I meant…" But Ellen choked on her own hope and pain, finding it impossible to speak, to say all the things out loud that were in her heart, the emotion inside her too thick. "I meant… you," she said softly, and let go the sob that had lodged in her throat.

It seemed almost as if her words hit him square in the jaw. Liam reeled backward, unable—or unwilling—to look at her. His hands went to his waist; his head dipped low.

Oh, God. Oh God oh God . "I meant you, Liam," she continued recklessly, desperate. "I love you—"

"Then…how could ye, Ellie?" he asked, his voice sadly distant.

"Dear God!" she cried to the ceiling. "How could I not? You saw what was happening to Natalie! Oh, how I wish it had never happened! I wish you had never come to my father's house, or come up those stairs! I wish you'd never told me—"

"Here we are, back again!"

Liam whirled toward the sound of Judith's voice just as quickly as Ellen turned away and walked unsteadily to the window, desperately trying to compose herself as Judith sailed through the door.

She stopped mid-stride, looked first at Ellen, then Liam, who had crossed his arms implacably across his chest, and smiled smugly. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt you two!" she trilled. "But unfortunately, my lord husband could not find the bracelet in question, and I'm afraid he's putting on a bit of a sulk." She continued on to the sideboard and poured herself a small sip of wine. "Perhaps we might amuse ourselves with a game of loo until he feels up to joining us again?" she asked gaily, and swished toward the card table, expecting Ellen and Liam to join her.

Liam wasn't really very sure how he made it through the afternoon, seated across from the thieving vixen at the card table as he was. He could scarcely see the cards in front of him, could see nothing but her hair, made flaxen by the firelight, the curve of her slender neck, her pale blue eyes. And he could think of nothing but the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her mouth when he had kissed her. Supper was wearisomely protracted, with Lady Peasedown doing her best to match him with Ellie, and Lord Peasedown having lost his desire to participate after whatever it was that had gone on between him and his wife.

Truthfully, Liam had lost his taste for the fight. For some reason, to hear her say she loved him, to see the pain in her eyes when she had told him had been far more devastating than believing she had played him for a fool to betray him. It left him feeling terribly at sea, and silently, he debated what he should do. Did he give up the fight for the beastie, ask her to accompany him to God knew where? Not particularly his most brilliant thought, was it? How exactly would he provide for her and Natalie? In spite of her estrangement from her father, it was obvious she was accustomed to living at a high standard. How would she fare in small houses in cities, countries far from here and the comforts she had known all her life? How would Natalie? And could he really take her with him knowing that she had betrayed him? Could he ever trust her again? Or did he take what was rightfully his, leave with that and the ache in his heart, and hope that his military regiment would go somewhere so far away that his heart would eventually heal over and scar like an old battle wound?

Diah, his head hurt. Throbbed. And for the first time he could remember, he had no appetite .

But over the main course of supper, which he had difficulty eating, Lady Peasedown attempted almost frantically to engage him with tales of Ellen as a wee lass. Enchanting stories that painted a charming picture of a child living in luxury and privilege, accustomed to a certain way of life. And it was in that recitation that Liam finally understood there had never really been any question—he had to go home. He was all but out of funds, had nothing to offer her, and worse, had lost his trust in her. He would, he reckoned, have nothing of this extraordinary brush with love other than the memory of it…one he would carry in his heart for all eternity.

As supper drew to a close, and the port was served, Liam announced he was leaving on the morrow, and thanked the Peasedowns for their hospitality.

"I beg your pardon, you're to do what?" Lady Peasedown demanded, her voice full of the fatigue and bewilderment of matchmaking.

"I'm leaving on the morrow, Lady Peasedown. Our regiment will depart in a month or so, and there are matters that require me at home."

"But…but we had so hoped you'd stay!" she cried.

"Judith…" started Lord Peasedown, but wearily shook his head when Lady Peasedown began to protest.

"I'm certain you don't have to go straight away, Captain Lockhart!" Judith said, looking to Ellie for help.

But she'd get none there—Ellie bit her lower lip, looked at her china plate, and allowed Lady Peasedown to pout.

Liam declined the offer of a cheroot and begged their forgiveness as he stood to leave. "I must be up ere dawn," he lied.

The Peasedowns and Ellie accompanied him to the front hall, where he took his greatcoat, hat, and gloves from Filbert for the last time. Lord Peasedown shook his hand vigorously, declared he had had a splendid time of it, would send a man for the curricle on the morrow, then urged his wife to say good-bye. Lady Peasedown was not quite as endearing in her send-off, and Liam could see that she was hurt by his unwillingness to play at her game any longer. He thanked her profusely, and thought had it been any other circumstance, he would have indulged her.

Lord Peasedown, openly embarrassed by his wife's sulk, forced her to accompany him to the salon, leaving Liam alone with Ellie.

Ellie stood with her arms crossed under her bosom, studying the pattern of the marble floor.

"Look at me, then," he softly commanded her as Filbert walked away to open the door.

She looked up; the tears shimmering in her eyes surprised him.

"I'll come back for it," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "Ye know I will."

She nodded; a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and spilled down her cheek. "You won't find it, Liam. I'm sorry, but I can't let you have it."

He smiled sadly. "I'll no' harm ye, Ellie. I could never." He drew a breath, put a finger under her chin, and lifted her face higher, so that he could see it one last time, take in every feature. Still and always an angel, wasn't she, a bloody angel who happened to be hurtling toward Earth. "I couldna harm ye in any way, for the truth is… tha gràdh agam ort."

Another tear fell.

"That is to say, I love ye, above all else, and I always will."

More tears fell, streaming down her face, yet Ellie said nothing, just gazed at him, her thoughts hidden behind that shroud of tears. There was nothing left to say. He bent his head, kissed her softly on the lips, then stepped away and walked out the door, not daring to look back.

And in the dead of night, just before the sun would rise, he tiptoed from Ellie's dressing room into her bedroom, holding the plaid bundle under his arm. Natalie was sleeping soundly at her side, and Ellie was fully clothed. He knew she had waited for him, had tried to stay awake. And she had hidden the beastie well, but it had been exactly where Natalie had seen it last, and he had found it easily, wrapped in his kilt, the bulky shape and glint of a ruby where the plaid did not meet giving it away.

Liam leaned over, looked at Natalie. The lass was sleeping, her breath loud and deep, and he knew that disappointing her might possibly be the greatest regret of his life. Someday yer prince will come, Nattie. Someday.

He shifted his gaze to Ellie; saw the frown that creased her brow. How long he stood there he had no notion, but he finally turned and walked away, taking his beastie and the memory of his angel with him.

Comments

0 Comments
Best Newest

Contents
Settings
  • T
  • T
  • T
  • T
Font

Welcome to FullEpub

Create or log into your account to access terrific novels and protect your data

Don’t Have an account?
Click above to create an account.

lf you continue, you are agreeing to the
Terms Of Use and Privacy Policy.