Home > Chance of a Lifetime(4)

Chance of a Lifetime(4)
Author: Jude Deveraux

   “Damn,” Liam said, scraping his chair back. He moved to the window behind Boyd’s head and unlatched it. “I’m out of here, boys. When Angus comes by, just tell him I couldn’t wait for him any longer and I’ll be back tomorrow with his money.”

   “We’ll cover for you.” Boyd slapped Liam on the back. “Off you go, then. Meet us tomorrow at dusk, right?”

   Liam nodded, then jumped out the tavern window, sticking to the shadows as he made his way down the street.

 

* * *

 

   It was cold as a witch’s kiss, and well past midnight when Liam found himself clinging to the side of the squire’s house, praying to St. Nicholas. While it crossed his mind that St. Nicholas was the patron saint of repentant thieves, Liam decided it couldn’t hurt. He’d be especially repentant if he fell and broke his bloody neck.

   He was aiming for a second-story window above a tall rose trellis. The first part of the climb up the trellis had been easy enough, but the last few feet were proving to be brutal.

   Shaking with exertion, sweat trickling down his back, Liam gripped the jagged stones and pulled himself up. His jacket, a castoff from his brother, had been too tight around the shoulders for him to climb freely, so he’d left it behind in the bushes along with his boots. Now, with the damp fog rolling in and the walls growing more slippery by the minute, he was beginning to regret his plan of going alone. Unfortunately, it was too late to back down, so he continued the treacherous climb, muscles straining as he inched toward the window.

   Seven Hail Marys and one near-fatal slip later, Liam finally reached the ledge. He pushed the window open with one hand, hooked a leg over the sill, and hauled himself inside.

   When his bare feet touched the stone floor, he rested his head on the frame, breathing heavily and sighing with relief. God’s teeth, that had been a close call.

   “Hello,” a soft voice said behind him.

   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.

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