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Chapter Seven
Miraculously, Elizabeth finally made it to the library. Upon her first visit to Mull, Charlotte had shown her the back entrance, and Elizabeth made use of it, wary of running into anyone, especially Charlotte or Liam. She had not the energy to explain the myriad and varied details of her encounter with John and how it made her feel.
She also couldn’t stomach the thought of addressing Liam’s thinly veiled anger against John as he arrived and asked to speak with her. It didn’t make sense, and she was too tired to think about it. Sinking down into the chair by the hearth, she chuckled a little. She had experienced more ranges of emotions in the past few weeks than she had in her entire life!
Even though her mother had died a few years before and broken her heart, her life had been a docile and quiet one. She could never do anything out of the ordinary, and so now, when life was suddenly changed in one thousand different ways, she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Her brain was trying to follow everything that was going on but failing miserably. It was as if she couldn’t really recognize who she had been, and she only wanted to become this new woman who was sprouting forth from within her without her knowledge.
She pulled a book off of the table and, after putting on her spectacles, began to flip through it. It was a familiar one, but it was in French. Her French was passable, but it was not the sort of book that would relax her mind and let her sink easily into oblivion. She put it down and stood to search the shelves herself, loving the calming presence of hundreds of volumes, staring down at her from their lofty heights, as if watching her.
So much knowledge in one place; it made her fingers tingle. She was a lucky woman that her father had allowed her to read. She found her excitement, adventure, and education through books, and she would have been hard-pressed to part with them if her father had forced her to. For a moment, she considered what type of man her future husband might be. Would he be one to trap her like her father, or could he possibly be like Angus or Calum, who loved their wives’ intelligence and sought to foster it?
Her heart flickered with hope. Perhaps she could be so lucky as her friends. They were both Englishwomen who had no notion that they would end up where they had, but they were brilliantly happy, with kind and loving husbands who cherished them. She smiled. Even though her mother’s wish and her father’s timeline felt stifling and controlling, she thought that there could perhaps be a happy ending after all.
She slid her fingertips across the bindings as she wandered down one aisle of the rather expansive library and sighed with delight. Her fatigue had left her, and her head was beginning to clear. She slid one of the books out of its spot on the shelf, enjoying the smooth feel of the cover on her hands. It wasParadise Lost, and it had always been one of her favorites.
Her father approved of such writing, for it foretold the future of the sinner and their likelihood to burn in Hell. “Good lessons for women to learn,” he had been wont to say. She scanned a few verses but was roused from her pleasant reverie by loud footsteps behind her. She turned to see Liam, scowling a little, his hands behind his back.
Closing the book, she turned towards him, pulling her glasses off as she did so. Somehow he seemed to fill the once quiet space with his presence. He was that kind of person. One couldn’t notice anything else when Liam MacLean was in the room. He pushed a hand through his curls out of habit. There was a moment of silence. “Yes?” she asked, grateful that her voice sounded tense and curt. What could he possibly want after his very flagrant attempt to ignore her while they were off dealing with patients?
“How did it go with Laird Campbell?”
Elizabeth squinted her eyes at him with censure. She slid the volume back on the shelf and leaned against it, feeling strength from embracing the books behind her. “I do not see why that should be any of your business. May I ask why you are interested?”
She was grateful her full energy had returned. She ought to let this new and improved woman out more and more. She also didn’t have any wine to assist her in her bold statements, so this time it was really her trying to fight back. She refused to let Liam try to intimidate her into feeling guilty for something.
Liam shifted slightly on his feet and rubbed his beard. She was beginning to see his nervous tics, and that gave her a little satisfaction. “Ye know that ye should nae speak tae much tae a Campbell. The man tried tae ruin this clan!”
Elizabeth frowned. “I know all about what the man did. Charlotte has told me so herself. And now, his brother is killed because of my family!” Her voice had grown louder than she’d expected. She dropped it to a whisper. “Do you think I can hold anything against the man now?”
Liam’s scowl deepened. “I mean only tae help ye. It is nae wise tae trust a mere stranger. He could have done something tae ye while ye were alone.”
Elizabeth flushed, partly in anger and partly in embarrassment. She desperately wanted to bring up the events of last evening and how she should not have trusted him, but she miraculously refrained. She put her hands on her hips. “If so, Charlotte would not have let me go him. I do not understand why you are acting in this manner. Why should it matter to you whether I spend time with a man or not? I am certain you have plenty of your own women to keep you company. In fact, one was asking for you earlier.”
Liam froze, and Elizabeth swallowed, wondering if her newfound boldness would give her cause for regret. She had been privy to private information, knowing that Brea had asked after Liam, and she thought that perhaps it was not hers to share. It was not the way of a well-brought-up lady.
In the dim light of the library, she thought she could see Liam blush, but she brushed it aside as mere fancy. “Who has asked after me?” He asked warily.
Elizabeth took a breath, wondering how to proceed. “Well, at the end of our walk, a group of women came upon the laird and me in a boat. Brea was the name of the woman who asked after you. She asked if John knew where you were.”
Elizabeth could see the muscles in Liam’s stubble-covered jaw tighten. So, perhaps this Brea was not a welcome visitor? Annoyingly, that gave her a little feeling akin to hope. “I see,” he said in reply. “Well, ‘tis nae business of yers, lass.” He turned his shoulder to go and kept his eyes down. Elizabeth thought that might have been the end of the conversation, but instead, he continued. “I merely wanted tae ask ye if there was time tae take a walk with me one day or ride.”
Elizabeth’s mind began to whirl. Were men always so confusing? She thought that it was women who had earned the reputation for being fickle creatures, flitting through their emotions in the blink of an eye, but here was a man, strong, stubborn, who had just rudely spoken to her about keeping to her own business, and then in the same sentence asked her to go for a walk?
Incredulous, she asked, “Such as the walk that John Campbell and I embarked upon? Is that what you wish?”
Liam’s fingers drummed on the side of his kilt. “Aye. ‘Tis just what I mean.” He still refused to look at her, and his voice was still stern as if anger was approaching on the edges of his voice. It was as far from romantic as one could get.
Elizabeth stood tall and crossed her arms over her chest. She hoped her eyes would convey her displeasure at being spoken to in such a way. “I am not certain that I quite understand you, Mr. MacLean. You condemn a man for coming to pay his attentions to me. You also scold me for telling you something that happened in front of me, when I had not asked for it, and yet, you ask to do the very thing that John was condemned for by you? I admit I am very confused, indeed.”
Seeing Liam’s strong back stiffen under her words, Elizabeth felt a wicked satisfaction. He did not reply. She continued. “No, thank you, Liam. I think that it would be best if we did not do that, for I am not sure that I am very interested in speaking to a man who has asked me to spend time with him in such an angry, cold voice as you just have. As if it was the very last thing he would ever want to do.
With that, she left the room, swinging past a stalwart Liam, whose eyes had now turned to the fireplace. She could feel the heat of anger from him, or perhaps that was from herself, for she felt just as furious. Running to her bedroom, she knew what she wanted to do. First, she would take a bit of food, and then she would ask Charlotte if she could ride and see the rolling green hills and the surrounding Sound all to herself. That would give her a bit of freedom that she needed. And she could try to sort out why on earth it was Liam who should be angry with her when he was so very obviously in the wrong.
* * *
Liam stayed still for a few moments after watching Elizabeth rush out of the room, the loose bits of hair trailing behind her. The headache from the alcohol was gone but had been replaced by a dull ache in the stomach. For some reason, Elizabeth Darling now made him furious. Where was the kind, lovely woman who he had originally met? She had been soft-spoken, timid, and rather endearing in her own way.
When he’d pulled her into his arms to dance at the wedding the previous night, he loved the way her lips had opened, and her cheeks had flushed at being wrapped in the arms of a man. He knew that she was most definitely not very experienced with men, and that excited him. It was as if every move he made thrilled her to the core, and he could tell by her eyes and the way her lips were slightly curved upward that she had enjoyed it.
