Page 3 of Liam

“One of us doesn’t have a room?” Hannah asks.

“No, no,” I put my hands up in a mock surrender. “There are plenty of rooms and your party has the entire estate, so that won’t be a problem at all. It’s just that after our last conversation, I wasn’t sure if Lord Roch—if Liam, I mean, might want a different room than the one I’d previously assigned him? Maybe?”

He starts to speak before she can. “No need to worry. I’ll be perfectly happy with wherever you’ve put me.” He starts to turn back to the group of people behind him, then stops. “Except maybe I would like a little tour, after all. This is a beautiful house, and if you’ve gone through the trouble of preparing multiple rooms, I’d love to have a look.”

“Really?” I momentarily forget to hide my surprise. “I mean… great. I’d be happy to show you around. Maybe I should get everyone else settled in their rooms first? Then I can give you a quick tour of the house so you can take whichever room you prefer.”

“That’ll be perfect,” he says, gesturing for everyone to follow me upstairs to the bedrooms, then follows up with quite possibly the most British thing I’ve ever heard. “I’ll wait down here with my cup of tea and one of your delicious scones until you get back.”

My mind is racing almost as quickly as my heart while I climb the ornate staircase to the second floor, with Liam’s entourage behind me. As much as I want to run back down there and cater to whatever he needs, I have to take care of the other guests first.

And then… then I’ll be alone with Liam Tipton, Viscount Rochester, for the first time. Not that it’ll mean anything—I have no doubt he’s always polite and outgoing no matter where he is or who he’s talking to—but a girl can still enjoy the fantasy of being all by herself with a dashing English aristocrat, right?

I hope so, because it’s a fantasy I never knew I had—never knew I needed—until Lord Rochester walked into my life.

* * *

I take a deep breath and try to calm my jittery nerves as I finish showing Liam’s group to their rooms. The only thing stopping me from literally running down the stairs is the mortifying thought of falling and face-planting right at the feet of the sexy viscount.

Then again, he might have to perform mouth-to-mouth…

My heart skips a beat at the thought and I nearly lose my footing in spite of my best efforts. Goodness, I really need to get it together. He’s aguesthere, not to mention an aristocrat. Flirting with him while he’s here to take care of business wouldn’t just be unprofessional of me, it would be downright rude. I can’t think of anything more cringe-inducing than to be hit on by someone who has access to the place I sleep, and I’m sure he would feel the same way.

Still, I nearly throw all my good manners and best intentions out the window when I see him standing in the parlor looking like a certified English snack.

“That was fast,” he says, giving me a slow up-and-down look that may or may not have just turned my panties inside out. Just saying. “Now we can take things at a more leisurely pace without any interruptions.”

A leisurely pace with a handsome lord? Yes, please. Music to my ears.

“Sure, great,” I nod, almost definitely looking too eager. “We can, um, look around down here first? If you want?”

God, why can’t I string together two sentences without fumbling my words whenever I’m around him? I’ve never had this issue with a guest before. But I guess I’ve never had a guest like Liam before.

“I’m all yours,” he tosses me a half-shrug and a grin. “I’m ready to go wherever you want to take me.”

And now I have a dozen dirty thoughts running through my mind, which basically guarantees that I’m going to somehow embarrass myself the next time I open my mouth or take a step or do anything at all other than stare into his light brown eyes.

“I guess we should get started, then,” I say, praying I look more confident and relaxed than I really am. “Since we’re already in the parlor, there are a few great antiques here.” I point to a map on the wall. “That’s from the Revolutionary War when—um,” I swallow hard, belatedly wondering if it’s a huge faux pas to mention that particular war to someone from the losing side.

“I’m familiar with the way that one turned out,” he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he tries and fails to stifle a grin. “Beautiful map, though. And the wall coverings? Those look to be from the nineteenth century, if I’m not mistaken?”

“That’s right,” I nod, feeling breathless as he looks over the room with an appraiser’s eye. “I guess you, um, probably have a lot of antiques back at your, ah…” Castle? Estate? Country house? “Home?”

“A few,” he tosses me a playful wink. “But it’s nice to be around some new… old things.”

Little by little, he puts me at ease. It helps that aside from the fancy title, the expensive suit, and the runway model looks, he really does seem to be a nice, normal guy.

By the time we’ve finished looking around the ground floor, I’m actually breathing normally again and have almost completely gotten over the anxious panic I was feeling a little while ago.

“I should probably show you to my bedroom—your bedroom.” My cheeks instantly flush with heat as I realize what I’ve just said. “Thebedroom. The one you’ll be staying in. By yourself. I mean… oh, God.”

He laughs and reaches out to give my shoulder a gentle squeeze—a move that fortunately keeps me from sinking down into the carpet in embarrassment, but unfortunately makes me want to lean in to that warm, strong touch. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he says as my insides start to melt from being so close to him. “It’s just you and me right now, and I promise you don’t have to impress me.”

“I want to impress you,” I whisper because it’s true, but also because I apparently have completely lost the filter between my brain and my mouth. “I mean… I want you to like it here.”

“You already have. And I already do.” His hand lingers for another moment on my shoulder before he takes it away again. “Now we can take a look at those rooms if you’d like. Or you can just take me to your favorite one. I trust your judgment completely.”

He trusts me? He’s impressed by me?Me? I can’t even begin to process that information right now. And anyway, I’m sure he’s just being nice. He probably feels bad for me because of the way I’ve embarrassed myself.

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