A Life Earthbound (13 page)

Before she could move, his hand reached out and touched hers. She stared at it dully. The warm and soft feel of his skin against hers sent tingles up her arm.

Meeting his eyes again, her heart pounded loudly. She took in all the details of his face, a face she knew nearly as well as her own. His mass of black curls that fell across his forehead and hid his ears, his sapphire eyes flanked by dark eyelashes, his long face with a strong, slightly cleft chin and his goofy, crooked grin.

It alarmed her that he wasn’t smiling at her now. Instead he was just staring at her, as if he really was seeing her for the first time.

And when he spoke, she could feel a tremor race through her body.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmured, awe in his eyes.

She blushed, but didn’t look away, knowing she would lose control if she did.

“Do you mean that?” she heard herself ask, the question rising from the uncertainty in her heart. This was practically a dream, sitting here with him holding her hand, telling her she was pretty…when had this become her reality?

“Of course I do,” he told her, looking baffled. “Why would I make that up?”

“I don’t know.” Fighting for control and trying to maintain an air of distance, she started to pull her hand away, but he only held it tighter.

“Don’t,” he asserted, loosening his grip when he sensed her uneasiness. “Smile, Rhia. Please smile for me.”

Despite her instincts telling her to run and not look back, to escape while she had a chance…her mouth did the exact opposite. It slowly curved and she smiled the most genuine smile she had ever smiled in her life.

And it was at that moment that his heart locked its sights on her, and her alone, and refused to let go.

“Can I…can I kiss you?” he managed, already reaching out with his free hand, aching to touch her hair.

She started to shake her head, felt the movement happening, even as she leaned into him, her eyes closing as his lips met hers. Her heart was pounding at full speed, and the shivers that had been a mild inconvenience before were now shimmering through her in wild waves, sending her mind reeling with hopes and fears and uncertainties…but in her heart she felt delirious joy.

She could smell his soap, and the syrup from the pancakes he’d had for breakfast. His lips were soft as they inexpertly pressed against hers, neither of them sure exactly how to kiss.

His hand touched her hair lightly, brushing through the dark strands, pulling her scent in until he was lost in her.

When she pulled away, her eyes fluttered open and she let out a long breath, her lips slightly parted and her brow creased with confusion and dozens of other feelings she had no concept of.

In response to her uncertainty, his smile bloomed wide and bright enough to blind her.

Neither of them could find a single word to say, so they simply sat in awed and confused silence, drinking in the complicated teenage emotions that were starting to emerge within them both.

At her request, they met in secret.

It wasn’t that she was ashamed; she was just worried about her parents. She knew her mother would disapprove and she was certain her father would think her too young to be spending time with a boy this way. The truth was, she probably was too young, but she rationalized the entire situation away as an emotional experiment. She was simply testing the waters of exposing her heart, little by little, to someone she was learning to trust. Certainly there was nothing wrong with branching away from her comfort zone for once, even if it was a bit unconventional for her.

And yet, while she criticized and berated herself when she was alone, trying to convince herself that she was being a fool and that she should end this and retreat back into her carefully constructed shell, when she was with him, her mind forgot about everything except him.

Liam’s casual, carefree attitude toward life should have irritated her structured sensibilities, but instead it fascinated her. How anyone could look at life and shrug off the bad times and cheer on the good times was mind boggling to her. She was constantly preparing for the worst, and then worrying over the best, wondering when the ground was going to fall out from beneath her.

But Liam was the poster boy for optimism, full of wild and crazy dreams, and hopes and desires. He rambled on for hours about how he wanted to climb Mount Everest, and shrugged off her insistent reminders of the dangers, difficulty, and years of preparation involved in such a task. He just smiled in that way he had and told her to stop worrying.

Where he was a glass half full kind of person, she was constantly worrying over her half empty glass. She believed absolutely nothing she heard, and only half of what she saw, while Liam had an unwavering faith in others that she deemed blissfully ignorant. He rarely questioned anything, and she did nothing but question.

And yet, despite how radically different they were, they found comfort with each other. It was as if they balanced their two extremes when they were together.

During most days, especially when they were in class together, she acted like nothing had changed. But he couldn’t resist sending a smile in her direction, or watching her with his chin in his hand while he was supposed to be working on an assignment. More than once, Serendipity had scolded him for being distracted. Although, she thought he was simply daydreaming, not eyeing her oldest daughter.

But any chance he got, Liam sought her out, sometimes in the kitchens or walking through the back gardens, and they would steal away to someplace private to be alone.

The library was a favorite of hers, as she liked to read and was slowly but surely convincing him of the joys of literature. She loved to sit with him in the corner, surrounded by gigantic fluffy pillows, him laying on his back with her perched gracefully beside him, reading him passages from her favorite novels.

And on this particular afternoon, that was exactly what they did.

“This Emma girl sounds pretty full of herself,” Liam commented, grinning up at her, his hands tucked behind his head as he lay back against the pillows.

Rhiannon glanced at him from behind the book. “She has her faults, certainly, but she also knows when she’s right.”

“I can tell you right now, without even knowing the ending, that she’s wrong about this Mr. Martin guy.”

Fighting back a grin, Rhiannon eyed him inquiringly. “And why do you say that?”

“Because.” Liam sat up on one elbow, running his free hand carelessly through his hair. “He actually loves Harriet. Yeah, he’s goofy and poor, but he’s a good guy.”

“But the point is that Emma sees that he is less than what Harriet should be looking for. Hence why she suggests Mr. Elton, who is wealthy, established in the community, and more than agreeable.”

“Nah, he’s boring. I don’t get the sense that he actually cares about Harriet. He wants someone else.”

Because Liam was surprisingly intuitive when it came to the motives of the characters, Rhiannon was impressed. Despite how much he goofed off in class, he had a surprisingly avid and quick mind that had an excellent grasp on human emotions.

“Even if Mr. Elton doesn’t care for Harriet the way Mr. Martin does, Mr. Elton can still provide a better life for her, not to mention a better social standing that will benefit their children and grandchildren,” Rhiannon pointed out, earning a sardonic glance.

“Yeah, but she won’t be as happy. She should stick to the guy she loves, not the one who’s rich.”

“This may surprise your romantic heart, Liam,” Rhiannon began, smiling despite herself. “But marriage is not all about love. Many people get married for social or financial reasons.”

“Why anyone would want to do that is beyond me.” He frowned, shaking his head. “Losing out on love just to marry for status?”

“It may sound foolish to you, but it’s quite common.” Closing the book, she glanced at her watch. “I really should get going, my father is expecting me.”

She started to rise to her feet, only to have him pull her down to the pillows with him. Startling even herself, she let out a quick giggle that she hadn’t even realized was inside of her.

Liam’s heart swelled at the sound of it. He looked at her a bit shyly, but with budding confidence, and stroked his hand through her hair. “Give me one more minute, Rhia,” he said softly, pressing his lips to hers, reveling in her taste. He may have been young, but he knew his own heart enough to know it wanted only her.

Her pulse jumped in that still unfamiliar way, giving her a moment of hesitation and distress, but still underneath it all it was simple delight.

“I have to go,” she murmured against his mouth, smiling even as she pulled away.

“Duty calls, as usual,” he grumbled, though his expression was playful.

She stood and stared down at him as she brushed at her skirt. “Duty will always be calling, Liam. I just choose to listen when it does.”

She swept from the room, leaving behind the distinctive scent of sage and vanilla. He laid back down on the pillows and closed his eyes, his mouth curving in a contented and lazy smile.

Riding on the bliss from being with Liam, Rhiannon headed to the Greenhouse, clutching the novel
Emma
to her chest like it was her most treasured possession.

She felt lighter and freer than she had in ages, and couldn’t believe her own daring at pursuing whatever it was she was doing with Liam. But in her mind she was just experimenting, and as her father was apt to say, experiments were key to creating anything worthwhile.

As she turned the corner, stepping into the Greenhouse with her lips still curved in a smile, she spotted her father standing over his drawings, scrawling rapid notations in his small, precise handwriting. He was too involved in what he was doing to look at her.

He waved his free hand in the air absently. “Get to work on the population charts, Rhiannon.”

His voice was distracted and curt, and she felt her smile vanish in an instant as she realized he was in one of his moods. It was rare for her father to be anything but civil and polite with her, but when he was irritated or upset he was downright unpleasant to be around.

Determined not to interrupt him, she hung her bag up on the coat rack and stowed the book away without a sound. She went to one of her father’s large boards covered in charts, and selected the one on animal populations. Unpinning it, she brought it with her to her work table, took a seat and began to update the chart.

The Greenhouse was silent enough to hear a pin drop, and she soon lost herself in her work.

Roughly an hour later, her father pushed away from his drafting board, grabbed the large vellum sheet he’d been drawing on, and swiftly tore it in half.

She glanced up, startled, and watched with wary eyes as he tore the paper up again, and again, until nothing was left but shreds. His face was cold and calculating, his eyes hard as steel, and she felt a shiver race down her spine. This mood was a particularly bad one…

Without saying a word, he grabbed another sheet of paper and slammed it down on the surface of his table. He whirled around suddenly and stalked toward her, his arms crossed over his chest as he stopped in front of her. When she met his eyes she felt her entire body freeze from his stare.

“Let me see the chart,” he said sternly, holding out his hand. She lowered her eyes and handed it to him, her heart thudding in her chest.