‘You want me to look good for tonight, don’t you? Hairdresser, nails, pedicure?’ she prompted.
‘And I thought your beauty was natural…’
She cocked her head to one side to match his look. ‘Like your beard?’
They slipped so easily into teasing each other.
‘You will remember to shave before tonight, won’t you, Cade?’
‘Yes, dear…’
He scored another look of mock reproof.
He fingered his stubble as she left the house. Great. She was coping and organised and he had no worries about her putting on a good show at the ball. And that was exactly what he wanted, wasn’t it?
He cursed viciously as she shut the door.
When she walked into the room that night she took his breath away. Her vibrant spirit instantly filled with light the faded-country-house style sitting room where they had agreed to meet. He had been warming his hands by the fire, harbouring some vague notion of how she might look with a touch of make-up and her hair styled, wearing the gown he’d bought her, but when she walked through the door he had just discovered that his imagination wasn’t up to much. She looked like a precious piece of porcelain, too good to touch, a figurine in shades of ivory and apricot and sunshine—a treasure to admire from a distance. In the mellow firelight her hair shone like molten gold, and her eyes were clear and steady as she somewhat self-consciously performed a twirl for his approval. ‘You look great,’ he exclaimed. It was a massive understatement.
‘And you look amazing…’ Well, he did. And she would have said the same whatever the situation between them. They had agreed to meet here so that the army personnel drafted in to bring Featherstone back to life could have a clear run for the occasion, and she had to smile, seeing Cade had been for a haircut as she had requested, plus he was clean-shaven. He was wearing what he had explained to her was his mess uniform—but that explanation hardly prepared her for the reality of Cade decked out in all his finery. The dark blue jacket had gold buttons blazing down the front, and the crown and star denoting his rank of Lieutenant Colonel were proudly displayed on epaulettes of gold thread. The jacket was high-necked and cut away to reveal a waistcoat of matching opulence. It stretched tight across Cade’s powerful chest and a magnificent sword hung at his side. In her peripheral vision Cade’s hard-muscled thighs were on show, clad in tight-fitting breeches he had told her were known as overalls in army lingo. Tailored to fit where they touched, the bottoms buckled under long black boots, polished to a mirror shine; the boots were called mess wellies; another Boy’s Own joke, she presumed. Everything about him wore the aura of command, from the glint of his spurs to the swagger stick topped with a silver cap, bearing his regiment’s insignia. The only slight flaw was the blue-black shadow of stubble already spreading from his cheekbones to his chin. But there was nothing to be done about Cade’s testosterone. And now she must shut the warrior out if she was to have any hope at all of keeping a clear head and helping Cade to achieve his aim tonight.
‘So, what do you think?’ he said wryly.
More complex emotions than she could deal with quickly or explain rose up in Liv’s heart. Medals glinted on Cade’s chest in the firelight in a sombre reminder that the splendour of his uniform as well as his immaculate presentation of himself as a serving soldier was a celebration of survival as well as a tribute to his fallen comrades.
‘My intention was not to move you to tears,’ he assured her dryly.
‘You didn’t. I got something in my eye.’
‘Can I help you?’
‘No,’ she said, backing up. The last thing she wanted was Cade touching her. ‘I can handle it.’
‘We’re not a bad-looking couple,’ he observed as she turned away to collect herself.
‘We clean up well,’ Liv agreed, having recovered enough to turn and face him.
‘You certainly do,’ Cade murmured.
Liv shrugged, and then she smiled. They stared into each other’s eyes as if they had to be sure this was going to work, until finally Cade’s lips curved in wry invitation. ‘Well…Shall we?’
Liv hesitated and then allowed him to escort her from the room.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CADE had a surprise for Liv waiting outside the door. He picked up a corsage from one of the hall chairs and handed it to her.
‘Pink roses…’ She inhaled the delicate scent with pleasure. They were so feminine; she loved them.
‘I’m supposed to pin them to your dress…’
‘Oh…’
‘If you’d rather I didn’t?’
‘No…’ She stared up into Cade’s eyes briefly. ‘They’re lovely—so old-fashioned. I mean, I love them—’ He was making her feel so confused.
‘Are you telling me chivalry is dead?’
She gave a nervous laugh. ‘No, of course not.’ At least not as far as Cade was concerned. It was a lovely touch. Would he do that sort of thing if they were really going out? She hadn’t pictured him as a romantic.
With every step they took towards the ballroom Liv was aware of the flowers Cade had given her. She loved them. She loved Cade. She loved the fact he’d thought of giving her a gift at all. The petals felt cool and slightly damp beneath her fingers, and their scent danced all around them. Maybe it was only a prop to make people believe she was his girlfriend, but she loved them all the same.
‘You may find this quite a stiff and formal event,’ he said as the sound of laughter and music grew ever closer.
‘Or I may think traditions are important.’
Cade’s quick smile warmed her, and it occurred to Liv that she wasn’t the only one who had been anxious about the evening. The scheme meant everything to Cade, and it was crucial that things went well for him tonight. It wasn’t too dramatic to say the success of his project hung on this event.
It was Cade’s turn to be surprised at the door of the ballroom when Liv was greeted by name by his adjutant. He did a double take as the man opened the doors for them saying, ‘Good to see you again, Ms Tate.’
‘Good to see you again?’ Cade queried, frowning down at Liv as she took his arm. ‘How does my adjutant know you?’
‘I was with him earlier—’
‘Doing what?’
She couldn’t help thrilling to the note of suspicion in Cade’s voice. Was he feeling just a little bit possessive of her, maybe? ‘I wanted to check everything was in order for tonight—all right,’ she conceded, seeing Cade’s expression growing blacker than ever. ‘I told a little white lie. I said you’d sent me on ahead so I could report back to you. And I am reporting back to you,’ she insisted, staring up at him. ‘Don’t be angry. I just had to make sure everything went smoothly for you—’
‘Oh, did you?’ As she blushed and looked away he couldn’t help smiling. Liv Tate was quite a piece of work. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured, dipping his head close to her ear.
And why was he surprised by what she’d done? He already knew she had guts. Liv was a survivor, and as he looked around the ballroom and saw the transformation he knew she was an efficient organiser too.
Everyone wanted to dance with Liv. Would he ever get a chance? He would have to cut in if nothing changed. For the sake of politeness, he should at least have one dance with her. It was his duty after all she’d done for him. He paced the perimeter of the dance floor impatiently. How long was a waltz supposed to last?
‘I’ve been lobbying support for your cause,’ she said, coming back to him breathless. ‘And the major general’s another one to add to your list—’
‘My list?’
‘Your list of supporters. Don’t worry,’ she added, glancing round the crowded room. ‘I’m working my way through them one by one.’
‘So I noticed.’
‘Cade? Cade,’ she repeated in another tone, this time raising her brow. ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’
‘Of course not,’ he scoffed.