He didn’t answer at first. He glared at the pages and where his thumb was planted atop her marks. In the end, he turned from her to stomp aimlessly about their room.
“You are happy with your friends.”
What did that have to do with anything? “Of course, I am. They’re my friends.”
“And you understand that.” He gestured to Julian’s sketches.
“Only at the most rudimentary level.”
“That is more than I comprehend.”
“Well, I don’t understand glasswork or whisky, so you have me beat there.”
He turned, his brows raising. “Do you want to?” There was hope in his tone.
“Not really. Do you want me to? I thought that was what you loved.”
“It is. And the money it will bring us.”
She nodded. “So why do you want me to learn it? I have plenty to do, I assure you.”
He grunted. “Yes, with teaching letters and denying fountains. And knowing who has a talent for numbers—”
“And learning how to cook something other than stew and being sure that Deirdre’s twins aren’t bullied.”
He frowned at that. “What?”
“Did you know that people here think twins are a sign of a curse?” She shook her head. “Children are never a curse. It’s backwards thinking, I tell you.”
“It’s Scottish thinking,” he growled.
“And you brought me here to change it. So I am.”
He rounded on her. He was on the far side of the room and still gloriously naked. The lamplight touched his body with gold as he stood there in all his strength. “And is there nothing here that you would love?” he pressed. “Nothing that will hold you once you have remade my home to your liking?”
His words seemed distorted to her ears. She could never think clearly when she saw his body. But even more, they made little sense to her. “What do you want of me?” she asked. “I have given everything I have to the task you set for me.”
“You have worked very hard,” he concurred, but it didn’t seem to appease him. He took a step forward, but only a step. They were still separated by several feet. “Do you want to go back to London?”
“Of course, I do! I miss Lilah and Aaron. I miss my friends and the business of London. I am always at a loss here, set back on the wrong foot. I didn’t mind when that happened in England. I had found my place. But here…” She made a gesture of confusion. “Sometimes I cannot even understand people’s words, much less the meaning.” Then she dropped her hands on her hips. “Aren’t you tired of stew?”
“Yes!” The word came out with an exasperated shout. But for all that he seemed to agree with her, he appeared at a complete loss. For her part, she had no understanding at all of what he was about.
“I do not understand,” she finally said.
There was a plaintive note in her voice that he responded to. His gaze softened, but not in kindness. It looked more like despair, and she could not comprehend why he would be so upset about fountains and stew. He came forward and touched her face. His stroke was gentle, and she lifted her chin into his touch.
“I want you to be happy here,” he said.
She sighed. “It has been three weeks, Liam. Did you think I would find happiness so soon?”
“Aye,” he murmured, his brogue thick. “I did.”
“Then you do not know me at all.”
He touched his thumb to her lip. He stroked his thumb there, bringing a tingling that began at her mouth but quickly spread to her body. Her nipples tightened, her belly grew warm and wet. She yearned for him, but she didn’t close the distance. His mood was so strange, she wasn’t sure of her reception.
And yet, in this, he was as he had always been. He took her mouth slowly, but with a thoroughness that undid all her thoughts. Soon her body was pliant as he helped her out of her gown. He burrowed his hands into her hair, tossing aside the few pins she had left until the weight of it all tumbled down. And as she let her head drop back, he cradled it as he kissed her chin then neck. She twined her arms around his shoulders and was ready when he scooped her up.
