But he stopped, just before the apple. He bent, picking it up from the floor. Pulling a tuft of his shirt sleeve further from the arm of his jacket, he proceeded to rub the apple clean with the white linen.
He stared at her, his hands working the cloth along the apple. “We need to stop this, Liv. A truce. For the moment. I am here, and you cannot leave, so let us call a truce. I will behave. And I will strive to not offend you again.”
“You think you have offended me?”
“I haven’t?”
“One would have to care to be offended.”
He blinked, his blue eyes stung, his hands on the apple stopping.
But before she could take a breath his look seared into her, scrutinizing. She had said the words, brash, to protect the little dignity she had left. No matter that it was a lie only moments after she had decided on honesty.
“You do care, Liv.” His hands started rubbing the cloth on the apple again. “And you are right—I am well aware of how you look at me.”
Air left her lungs. What had she just been pretending—that she preferred the honesty?
Not honesty like this. Not honesty that left her bared and naked to Tieran, while he remained sheltered, fortified in his cocoon of indifference.
She wanted her feet to stay locked in place. She needed her feet to hold her ground. But betrayal came from her own legs, turning her, sliding her across the floor, the urge to distance her body from his overwhelming.
She stopped in front of the windows at the far end of the library, looking out into the dark night. Clouds still blocked the night sky, the blackness beyond making the glass a mirror instead of a window.
She watched his reflection in the window. The size, the strength in his body as he moved to set the apple on a side table at the other end of the library. Even with the distance, his body dwarfed hers in the window’s reflection.
She closed her eyes. If he truly desired a truce, he would go. Leave her in peace.
The air around her crackled, and her eyes opened. Tieran was directly behind her. Again, he had moved with a silent stealth, a skill she had never known him to possess.
In the window she saw him lean forward. His breath warmed her ear in the next instant, his right hand sliding along her bare skin into the crook between her neck and shoulder.
“I saw it in your eyes, Liv. I saw the hurt at Wellfork Castle.”
She tried to shake off his hand, but her shoulder went weak, the movement only managing to squeeze his hand closer onto her neck. She looked at his reflection. His head was tilted downward, his focus solid on her, his mouth next to her ear. “You saw nothing, Tieran. You saw what you wanted to see. You do have an imagination.”
He shook his head. “No. I saw you wonder. I saw the hurt when you asked me about Lord Lockston knowing you. When you landed on the blasphemous conclusion that I never wanted to marry you.”
She froze, her eyes closing.
She had just begun to resign herself to the fact that Tieran had never wanted to marry her. He had only wanted to use her for a dalliance those many years ago.
But now this. Not this. Her life was so much simpler without this. Without his breath on her neck. Without his words of the past.
“I never spoke of you, Liv, for the very simple reason that I didn’t want them to know of you. I didn’t want to chance losing you to one of them. I never wanted my friends to have to meet with my jealousy.”
His palm slid slightly up her neck, his fingers spreading along the line of her jaw as he looked down, his lips by her ear. “You are beautiful, Liv, and I was young and unsure of myself and I did not want to have to defend against anyone swooping in and wooing you from me.”
With a shake of her head, her eyes opened to stare at his reflection in the window. “You thought so little of me that you did not trust I would not be swayed away?”
“My friends are rogues, Liv. Charming is their natural state.”
“You were charming.”
He looked up, meeting her eyes in the window’s reflection. “Yes, well, you were the only one to ever see that in me, Liv.”
She inhaled sharply, her chest contracting.
No. She did not want this. She wanted simple. Wanted vengeance. Wanted to work her way through the list without interference. She didn’t want the maelstrom of emotions that Tieran caused. Not the things he would demand of her—he was here to stop her.
She didn’t want this battle with Tieran.
Not when she didn’t believe for an instant she could win it.
Yet as she exhaled slowly, looking at him in the window, words forged up from her belly, from her soul, that she couldn’t quite control. “The only person I ever wanted to tell me I was beautiful was you, Tieran.” Her voice, already soft, fell to a mere whisper. “And that is still true.”
His head dropped, his lips finding the soft spot just below her ear. His left hand slipped around her side, his palm pressing her belly, pulling her into the length of him. “Then let me take you away from here, Liv. Let us leave before you do irreparable harm. Harm that is not necessary. It is not too late to change course.”
His words slashed into her. The very thing she feared.
He only wanted to stop her.
And he was willing to manipulate her feelings for that very purpose. He didn’t mean a single word he spoke.
“Damn you.” She spun, jumping to the side and out of his reach. “Your cruelty knows no bounds, Tieran. And you are severely mistaken about me. I am not a whore you can manipulate so easily. A few kisses—some breathless words—no. Not me. I am not that stupid.”
Turning, she ran across the library floor, slipping out the door and into the shadows of the hallway.
She didn’t need her apple and a book anymore.
Her mind would be far too consumed with the bastard that night.
{ Chapter 8 }
Heel to toe. Slow, exact, light. Disturb nothing. Silence. Balance.
Tieran scanned the hay strewn on the dirt before him. To move without sound could very well be the most valuable skill he had gained during the war. Possibly the only thing. The war had given him very little beyond the destruction it had caused.
He heard the voices at the far end of the stable. The low monotone of Lord Shepton.
A laugh.
Liv’s laugh.
Tieran had to check his step, holding back against speed. He ignored the abrupt urge to run down the center of the barn, growling, ripping Liv away from Lord Shepton. He had to remember she had only been gone for fifteen minutes—twenty at the most. How much trouble could she cause in that amount of time?
His foot went down slowly, continuing the exact pace that kept his movement silent. Surprise would be his ally. The minx had escaped the house without him seeing. Escaped to further whatever her agenda was with Lord Shepton. And she needed to know that he would always be there, lurking, watching, ready to intercede.
She meant to ruin the man, and Tieran was more determined than ever to find out why.
He leaned his head forward, peeking into the last stall of the stables. Liv stood at the front of a white speckled horse, holding an apple to the mare’s chomping teeth. Fully clothed, a thick black wool riding habit hid every bit of her skin, not a scandalous touch of her bared to the world.
But she was smiling. Glowing at Lord Shepton as he stood but a step away. And the man was obvious in his ogling of her breasts.
The sight sent a visceral rage burning through his chest. Lord Shepton had no right to Liv’s smile—especially when he was blatantly categorizing her assets, imagining what he was going to do with them. And she was allowing it. Tieran had more than once seen Liv cut a man direct in the middle of a ballroom for even glancing downward at the slope of her chest.
Whatever her plan entailed with Lord Shepton, she was more than willing to sink to incredible lows to achieve her goal.
His stomach curdling at the scene, Tieran straightened and casually strode around the wall of
the stall. “Lord Shepton, you are here. What a coincidence I found you.”
Shepton jumped a step away from Liv, pasting a flat smile on his face as he looked to Tieran. At least the man had the good sense to feign innocence.
“Why is that, Lord Reggard?”
“I was speaking with Lord Mortell about our investment. He had several questions for you that I thought you would be the one better to answer.”
Lord Shepton moved toward Tieran, strained curiosity on his face. “There is no need to discuss our affairs with my brother-in-law, Reggard.”
“Just passing the time, Shepton.” Tieran shrugged. “He was curious. I was bored. Regardless, he would like to speak with you.”
Lord Shepton sighed, shaking his head. He turned as he left, offering a slight bow to Liv. “Lady Canton.”
She smiled brightly at him. “Lord Shepton, we can continue our conversation later.”
He nodded a touch too eagerly, then made his way out of the stall, having to turn sideways at the entrance to slide past Tieran. Tieran wasn’t about to move aside for him.
Standing at the stall’s opening, Tieran watched the back of Lord Shepton retreat down the long length of the stable. He waited until the man stepped outside before he turned to Liv.
The smile that only a moment before had been shining brightly at Lord Shepton had completely vanished.
A scowl sat on Liv’s face now, pinching her full lips inward at the corners, her warm golden eyes narrowed at him. Even with the glower, she was still beautiful. Blast her.
“You are blatant in your interference, Tieran.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, attempting to keep his lips from hinting at the smile trying to escape. “Am I?”
Her arms mirrored his, crossing over her belly. “Do not be so smug about it.”
“Smugness has nothing to do with it. You are attempting to ruin the man.”
Her right hand flew up. “Yes, I know—and you are here to stop me.”
His bottom lip jutted upward, a frown taking over his face. “I told you I am here to understand, Liv.”
“To understand how to stop me.”
“Or to help you. Whatever you need to do.” His head cocked to the side at his own words. They had flown out of his mouth without thought. Without him considering what they truly meant.
She went to the side of the stall, pulling her hanging cloak off a wooden peg. “What I need to do is leave Mortell Abbey now that you are here.”
“Pity the snow blocking the roads, then.”
“Yes. Pity that.” She snapped her cloak with a shake and then spun it around her shoulders.
“I see your mare is saddled. You were planning a ride?”
She looked over her shoulder to her horse as she secured the cloak’s clasp at her neck. “Yes, Lord Shepton was about to show me to the Roman ruins on the bank of the brook before you interrupted. It is supposed to be fascinating. There were Roman baths there. The roads are not fit for carriages yet, but I understand the horses should have no trouble with the trail.”
Tieran glanced down the empty middle walkway of the stable. “Well, now that Shepton is disposed of for the rest of the afternoon, it looks as though you have two choices—one, let me accompany you to the ruins.”
“I will take choice number two.”
He looked at her, smile playing on his lips. “You are welcome to it. It entails sitting through the fourth go-through of the selection of sonatas by the Mortell girls. They are warming up as we speak.”
Liv groaned.
Her head tilted down, she looked up at him through her long dark lashes, suspicion evident. “This is how you imagined us to proceed, Tieran? Light and easy, like we are old friends chatting up the The Times?”
The question threw him. How did he wish to proceed with Liv? He had come up to Mortell Abbey to disrupt whatever she was planning with Lord Shepton and to learn what he could about this list she spoke of—a list that apparently threatened one of his best friends.
He had come to Mortell Abbey firmly regarding her as the enemy. But then he had found her with that damn bird. Listened to her try to lie to him in the library. Felt her soft skin under the pads of his fingers.
And he was succumbing to the realization that Liv could never be his adversary.
So why in the hell was he still here?
He shrugged in answer to Liv’s question.
Her hands flew up in defeat. “Very well. This, unfortunately, is the more desirable choice.” She turned to her horse, running her glove down its nose, muttering to herself. “I can do polite chatter just as well as the next. Inane conversation is the key, since every time I talk with you, you manage to twist conversations and make me expose myself. And then you delight in crushing whatever vulnerability I dare to display.”
Her head snapped to the side, looking at him over her shoulder. “Was I just talking out loud?”
Tieran swallowed a guffaw. “Yes.”
“Blast it.” She sighed and then waved her hand at him. “Get your horse, then. And next time, you would do well to exit the area before a lady starts speaking to herself.”
Tieran unthreaded his arms, stepping away from the entrance to the stall. “I will strive to avoid your ramblings in the future, Liv. A clue that they are coming will be helpful, though.”
“Go.”
With a chuckle, Tieran moved down the stable, going to the stall where his steed stood ready and rested after the long trek to Mortell Abbey. But his chuckle faded once he was out of Liv’s sight.
Crush her vulnerability? Is that what he had done to her?
No. He wouldn’t have. He was sure of it.
He turned into the stall of his horse, pushing the question from his mind. Sink away. Sink the thoughts he didn’t want to dwell too long upon. Sink them into the sea of black in his mind where he buried the questions that stung, the demons he didn’t want to revisit. Sink. Disappear.
Minutes later, under the wispy grey sky, their horses picked through the snowdrifts in single file until they arrived at the main path that ran through the thick woods of the Mortell estate. The snow was less deep on the path that skirted along the stream, back and forth into the forest, and wide enough that Tieran could nudge his horse alongside Liv’s mare.
She allowed it, neither prompting her horse forward nor holding it slow.
His calf brushing her black skirts occasionally, Tieran looked over at Liv. The cold had sent bright pink into the normally porcelain skin of her cheeks and nose. It made her look alive. More so than she ever was in a drawing room. Much like she looked at Lady Desmond’s when she won the pot against Lord Fodler.
His gaze bored into her. Lord Fodler had to have been on the same list as Fletch.
“How did you even manage an invitation here to Mortell Abbey, Liv?”
“How did you manage an invitation?” She asked the question without pause, her look locked into the forest before them.
“I received no invitation,” Tieran said. “I am merely here to conduct business with Lord Shepton, as much as you would like to think differently. The snow keeps me here the same as you.”
“Pish—you managed to get here in this snow, and you can just as easily leave.” She lifted her hand gripping her reins and pointed at his horse. “These drifts are but a mere trifle for that beast you ride.”
Tieran subconsciously leaned forward to pat the neck of his horse, soothing the barb that his horse didn’t even understand. He looked to Liv. “I answered your question, now I think you can do me the courtesy of answering mine. How did you find yourself here at Mortell Abbey?”
She glanced at him, then set her look back onto the trail. “My late husband owned half of Lord Mortell’s foundry. It was one of the assets he left me. So now it is my funds that keep the company on the high side when necessary. Lord Mortell is kind in that he does what I wish of him. And I wished to come north for fresh air.”
“At the same time as Lord Shepton?”
She shrugged.
“And Lord Mortell’s youngest sister is Lord Shepton’s wife?”
“Correct.”
“From what I witnessed, Lord Mortell adores his youngest sister.”
“Does he?” Liv smiled innocently. “I had not noticed.”
His eyes narrowed at her. “And Lord Mortell was particularly interested in Shepton’s investment with me. Almost as if it was his own money that was at stake, and not Shepton’s.”
The side of her mouth lifted. “That is quite observant of you.”
“Do you expect less of me?”
She looked to him, the sly smile that had captured half of her face falling away. “The years have changed us both, Tieran. I have no right to expect anything of you. So I cannot assume that just because you were once the observant sort, you still are.”
He nodded, his focus not leaving her. However the banter had just turned, it had obviously twanged an unsettling chord with her.
He cleared his throat, staring at the half-frozen stream the trail had sidled next to, searching for something benign, something to return the light mood they had been enjoying.
“How are your parents, Liv? They are well, I assume? Did they move to London with you?”
“Oh.” Her eyes snapped to him, her head cocking. “I guess I thought you knew…I don’t know why you would have…”
She blinked hard at him, her look swinging forward. He could see her harden herself with a deep breath. “They died four years ago. In the fall. A month apart. Smallpox infested the village, and both of them succumbed to it.”
Guilt sliced through Tieran. Both of her parents. He knew how much she had loved them both, even as demanding as they were of her.
And he hadn’t even known she had lost them. Gone through that pain. His own parents had died within the same year when he was young and he knew that devastation. “I am sorry, Liv. I would have…”
His voice trailed. He would have what? Shown up at her door? Held her while she cried? Attended their funerals?
They both knew none of that could have happened.
She nodded, her lips drawing inward as tears swelled in her eyes. One tear escaped, rolling down her cheek. It stopped, freezing, its downward momentum halted. She flipped it away with the back of her kidskin glove.
Oath Page 8
