The Warmest Winter✓

Fifty

The night is pitch black, the stars peeking with difficulty through the thick winter clouds. But the streetlights make up for everything, and so are the people and cars on the road as Liam drives moderately to wherever he's taking me right now.

"I can't believe I haven't driven a car in almost two months." I break the easy silence stretched between us.

"Is that your grand declaration that you don't want to have an escort when you go out?" Liam prompts.

"Maybe? But not necessarily," I reply. He shoots me a quizzical eyebrow, a tiny smile on his face. "I'm a city girl, Liam. I don't appreciate it that I can't seem to do some shits on my own. I'm okay with getting lost while exploring London once in a while, and you've got nothing to worry about because if I need help I'll simply call you, right?"

"Ah, poor Mr. Prescott," Liam murmurs woefully, his eyes on the traffic-free road. "He'd be very disappointed to hear that you're utterly against his display of care."

"And you're going to shut your mouth about it. Don't you dare tell him that I'd rather drive on my own," I tell him stoutly.

Gosh, the last thing I want is to hurt that old man's feelings.

"I got you, Kira. I'll let you do some shits on your own—just as you stubbornly want." Sarcasm laces Liam's voice. I burst out laughing. "Yeah, I'm learning quickly."

"Yes, you are." I bob my head mirthfully. "God, you can be a real joker sometimes!"

We tease each other for a while until we run out of laughter.

"Your car will be here in two days, I believe. Let's end this chapter once and for all, for your impertinence knows no bounds, Mrs. Darcy," Liam says coolly.

"What? Seriously?" I nearly jump on him.

"Of course. I'd rather see than smile instead of arguing over and over again with you," Liam replies, his smile so refreshing.

"Yeah, I know . . . I can be a bitch. Total pain in the butt, so . . . I'm sorry, Liam." My voice comes out low, my eyes on his shining ones.

Responsively, Liam takes my hand and kisses my knuckle. I smile softly, touched by his gentleness.

"You're my stubborn little wife, but never a bitch. You hear me?" he snaps casually.

"Crystal clear, hubby." A giggle escapes my lips.

It takes about ten minutes until we're in Central London. Now I know this place better than before. Not long after we arrive at our destination, according to Liam, somewhere near the Strand. He finds a parking area and pulls over carefully.

The surroundings elate me instantly as I wander my eyes around. A smile flits on my face at the sight of Christmas decors on the streets and buildings so early in the season. It's ethereal, and I can almost hear the jingle bells in my head, turning me five again.

It's chilly outside when I clamber out of the car. The first thing I see is the Victoria Embankment—a road alongside the River Thames—that nearly pulls me in to take a night walk. However, what distorts my attention is the Georgian quadrangle building I behold.

It's gigantic and neoclassic, overlooking the river. It looks like a castle . . . Or a museum? I fail to grasp, but I can tell it's a place where fun resides judging from the number of people walking in and out, wearing nothing but their best smiles on their faces.

"What is this place?" I ask my husband, who's now striding closer to me.

"It's called The Somerset House. Let's go, you'll love it." Liam grins impishly.