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Liam whirled. Something sharp stabbed into his right heel. He let out a curse, grabbing at his foot as he bounced on one leg, staring in shock. The hard, sharp pain slicing through his foot was completely at odds with the soft, sweet vision in front of him.
A lovely young woman sat watching him from the middle of her bed. Surrounded by pillows and lace, she looked like a fluffy pink tea cake.
She had a pretty, round face, with a long nose and golden curls cascading around her shoulders. In one hand she was holding a half-eaten apple, and in the other she held a book. A single candle burned beside her bed, casting just enough of a glow for Liam to see that she was more surprised than afraid. Odd. Most women would be screaming down the house by now.
“Oh!” Her delicate brows drew together. “Did you hurt your foot?” She tossed the apple and book aside and slid from the bed.
She was concerned for him? He almost laughed, but he was too busy staring at the little cake who was now kneeling on the floor in front of him to examine his foot.
“I’m so sorry.” She blinked up at him with big, round eyes. “I’ll just get a towel.” She jumped up to fetch a towel and small bowl of water from the washstand, then gestured to her bed near the candle. “Sit on my bed so I can see better.”
On her bed? Liam didn’t move. Was the woman daft?
“It’s all right.” She gave him an encouraging smile, pointing to the poufy white bed covered in lace. “Just a few steps over there.”
Liam slowly walked to the bed, briefly wondering if perhaps he had fallen from the stones and died, after all. Except she looked far too much like an angel, and he wasn’t entirely sure he was headed in that direction. She had big blue eyes fringed with dark lashes, and a plump, rosebud mouth that could make a man think sinful thoughts. She was not an angel, then. Otherwise he’d be tossed into hell for what he was imagining about her mouth.
“I’m so sorry about your foot,” she said, tearing the towel into long strips. “It’s my fault for leaving my seashell collection on the floor. The one you stepped on is very sharp and spiky, I know, but isn’t it a beauty?” She held up a wicked-looking shell with brown spotted spikes. Beauty was not the word that came to mind.
Liam raised a brow, but said nothing. She didn’t seem to notice.
“My father’s steward brought it from a ship in port,” she continued, setting the shell on the nightstand and dipping a washcloth in water. “He said it was from some far off, exotic place where the air was filled with spices. What do you suppose that must be like? Spices in the air?” She laughed as she gently cleaned the wound on his heel. “I imagine it could be nice, if the spices were cinnamon mixed with sugar or maybe nutmeg, but I’m not partial to black pepper. I think visiting a place where the air was filled with black pepper would be quite dreadful, don’t you?”
Liam nodded, because a young woman was washing his foot in her bedroom. In the middle of the night. After he’d just broken into her bedroom. The situation was entirely new to him, and he was rather at a loss for words. She, on the other hand, did not have that problem.
“Collecting seashells is one of my favorite hobbies.” She smiled up at him, and it felt like sunlight on his face. “Nanny always yells at me for leaving things on the floor. Well, she’s not my nanny anymore, because I’m seventeen, of course, and that would just be silly. But she used to be my nanny, so I still call her Nanny, even though she’s now my lady’s maid. Do you know...?” She looked at him thoughtfully. “She’s become very bossy and grumpy in her old age. I can’t decide if it’s my fault, or if she’s just upset because life here is so dull.” She began wrapping a long strip of fabric around his heel. “She says I’m always walking around with my head in the clouds and wasting time on silly hobbies when I should be doing better things like learning embroidery. But what’s a needle and thread compared to the wonders of the ocean, I ask you? Have you been?” she asked suddenly.
Liam blinked. Nodded.
She let out a breath, stirring a soft curl that had fallen in her eyes. “Well, that’s luck, isn’t it? I’ve never been to the seashore. I’ve never seen anything but Kinsley and the surrounding countryside. My father, the squire, says it’s too dangerous for me to go anywhere else. Sometimes I wish I were a sea captain, so I could go on grand adventures and see all the amazing things.” She sighed heavily, tying his bandage in a tight knot.
Liam flexed his foot, testing the bandage. Not bad work for a pampered lady.
“I’ve seen you before, you know,” she said conversationally. “In town, with your friends.”
He eyed her carefully. Had she seen him with Boyd and the twins? Did she know what kind of life they led?
She waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m sure you didn’t notice me. I’ve always been with Nanny, or in the carriage. But father speaks very fondly of his tenants, and I listen. I’ve seen your family’s farm, too. It’s to the west, isn’t it? Such a pretty farm, with the lovely fields against the blue sky.” She was smiling at him again, only this time Liam’s thoughts were far from sunny. He was thinking of his brother’s farm, where he lived. The tiny cottage with the cramped straw pallets. The bone-deep chill seeping through the thatched roof in winter. His brother’s wife screaming about the rotten potatoes on the table. Three small children crying. One of them sickly. There was never enough food. Never enough of anything.
The squire’s daughter stood and put away the washcloth and basin of water. Then she walked over to her vanity and lit another candle, which allowed Liam to see her more clearly.
She was dressed in a lump of a gown. Pink ruffles cascaded down the high-necked bodice, obscuring most of her chest and waist, the style lost somewhere between childish and matronly. It wasn’t the type of dress most young ladies her age would wear. Not that Liam had seen many fancy ladies, but he knew enough to recognize the oddity on a pretty young woman like her. He’d never noticed her in the village before. But then, he wasn’t in the habit of frequenting the places the squire’s daughter might go.
“I’m Cora, by the way. Cora McLeod.” She marched over and held out her hand.
Liam stared at it, then at her. What did she expect him to do? Shake her hand like two men who’d just struck a deal? Or worse, kiss her hand like they were being introduced in some ballroom? This time, the humor of the situation got the better of him, and his shoulders began to shake with laughter.
Cora tilted her head, watching him curiously. “What’s so funny?”
Liam rose from the side of her bed, still laughing. He walked to the wall and leaned against it. “You,” he finally said with a grin. “You are very funny, Cora McLeod.”
Her face fell and she turned away. “Yes, well... I’ve been told that a time or two.” She smoothed the skirt of her gown.
Liam suddenly felt the need to explain. He didn’t want her to be upset. “I don’t mean to offend. It’s just that I climbed the wall of your house in the middle of the night, broke into your bedroom, and you don’t seem at all bothered.”
She turned back, brightening. “Well, I’m not afraid of you. You don’t seem like a bad person. Are you?”
He chuckled, tipping his head back to gaze at the ceiling. “If I were, I wouldn’t tell you.”
