Chapter Twelve

M alcolm didn’t really want to talk about the war. He’d seen too much. Felt too much. And the sting of betrayal still hit him hard. But since Lizzie had shared so much with him, he felt he had to give her some information. He would just leave all the bad parts out.

“I worked with Wellington. Doing surveillance mostly.”

“Wow, that is impressive. He must have held ye in verra high standing to work with him directly.” She’d heard her papa speak of the man and always gave him high regards.

“I dinna ken that, but I was verra good at what I did.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he locked his eyes on hers. “’Tis why I was at the party. Wilson had hired me to ensure the Phantom Prowler didn’t attack.”

Her eyes rounded. “Do ye really think I am that prowler? Truly?”

He sat back, assessing her. Did he? He had serious doubts. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.

“That still remains to be seen. If ye are, I dinna ken how ye werena apprehended before now. Ye do verra sloppy work.”

She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Because I am no’ the prowler! That alone should prove it.”

He chuckled.

“Dinna laugh at me. I am no’.”

“Ye keep repeating that, but I did catch ye with your hands deep in the viscountess’s chest of jewels.”

“Aye, aye, aye.” She waved her hand in the air. “Ye will see. My papa will no’ be happy at all to find I’ve been forced to travel with a stranger. ’Tis a good thing Mary is here with me. Otherwise ye’d be forced to marry me for sullying my reputation.”

He barked out a laugh. He couldn’t help it. “I am sullying your reputation? My dear lass, I think ye are doing a fine job of tarnishing your reputation all on your own.”

She crossed her arms and scowled at him.

“I have done no such thing. My reputation remains intact.”

Back and forth their conversation went until they stopped early in the afternoon to stretch their legs and rest the horses.

Malcolm realized that he was enjoying their banter perhaps more than he should be. He’d found the morning pleasant and if it weren’t for the actual reason they were on this journey he could almost see it as a journey a couple would partake together.

He pushed a hand through his hair and dug his fingers into his scalp. The women were off tending to nature’s call, and he thought of his friends that had recently married. Both Nicholas and Alexander were over the moon in love with their new wives. Finlay, too, though his marriage was more recent and it was expected that he would be lost in love.

Had they felt the same way he was feeling now? Not that he was in love with Lizzie. Nay. Not at all. Infatuated, mayhap. Lusted, definitely.

Even when he kenned that was the last feeling he should have running through his body, but damn, the lass awakened every nerve he had.

The gowns she wore accented the swell of her hips, revealed the swell of her bosom. And her scent? She smelled like wildflowers ye would find deep in the meadows of the highlands.

He bit back a growl at the thoughts running rampant in his mind.

“Will we be continuing on soon?” Lizzie asked from behind him.

Startled, he took a step forward, clearing his throat. “Aye, as soon as John readies the horses.”

He expected her to walk away and settle in the carriage, but instead she moved beside him, her hands clasped at her waist.

“’Tis a lovely landscape is it no’?” She didn’t wait for him to answer before continuing on. “My brother and I would spend whole days running through the trees. My mama would get so angry when I would rip my skirts by snagging them on the branches as we ran as if the devil himself were chasing us.” She laughed at the memory and it was a beautiful sound. Her voice transformed when she reminisced of her childhood.

“I’m verra sorry for the loss of your brother, Lass.”

She nodded, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Thank ye. He was a kind, but misguided soul.” She swatted at a bug flying near her head. “Looks like John is ready,” she said and headed toward the carriage.

He wanted to ask what Lizzie meant about her brother being misguided, but she quickly changed the subject and was gone in a flash, leaving him no time to do so. Maybe she would open up more as they continued on their journey.

Why did he care? Once they arrived at Tolton Hall and he proved her guilt or innocence, his job was done.

Guilty? He turned her in to the authorities and headed home.

Innocent? He left her with her parents and headed home.

Either outcome had him going back to Culzean. Back to his mundane life. That should make him happy. His return home had been blessedly issue free. Unlike his friend Nicholas, who returned home to find his mother had secured him a marriage. Or Alexander, who returned home to find his brother had gambled away the family estate. And then there was Finlay, who returned to find that he had to marry before his birthday or lose his title.

For that, he was thankful. He’d left Culzean in the hands of his trusted estate solicitor and his loyal and capable staff. He had no doubt he would return home to everything being in the same condition.

And it was. Culzean thrived whilst he was away.

But still. He was bored. Aye he’d distracted himself with several women in the city. They were only too eager to jump in his bed—until he couldn’t promise them a future. Once they found that out, they walked out the door never to return.

They didn’t matter. When one left, there was another there begging to take her place. And who was he to turn away a wanting lass?

After a time, even that got to be monotonous. The nightly dates to the theater, the opera, the endless balls and parties. He’d grown tired of it all.

He longed for an excitement that they couldn’t provide.

At one time his friends mentioned to him that he might look into the Glasgow Police. The idea was tempting. The work they could provide would certainly be interesting. A little more exciting than the various work he’d done for his friends, which almost always consisted of him either finding documents, looking into someone’s background, or actually finding someone.

Once in a while, he picked up a job such as what Viscount Wilson hired him for—security of sorts, but usually they amounted to naught.

At least this one would occupy his time for a week or so.

*

Lizzie kept stealing glances at Malcolm. He’d been lost in his head deep in thought ever since they’d started back on their travels.

“Pence for your thoughts?” She asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Snapping out of whatever had his mind preoccupied, Malcolm raised his brows and sighed. “Apologies, Miss. ’Tis naught I’d like to share.”

Well, that was unsuccessful. She didn’t ken why she cared so much whether or not he conversed with her. She enjoyed the sound of his voice. The deep timbre she found somehow relaxing. Much more so than the grind of the rocks and gravel beneath the carriage wheels. The jostling of the reins as the horses pulled them forward to their next destination.

“Is the plan to stop at the same inn we were originally supposed to stay last night or to push forward since we will only have a few hours of travel today?”

Malcolm frowned and tilted his head as he assessed her. “I had thought on that and we will stop there tonight. I think some extended time outside of the carriage would do us all good.”

She nodded. “Thank ye. ’Tis verra kind of ye.”

He winked and her stomach fluttered. Actually fluttered as if butterflies had taken flight within her belly.

“No matter the situation we find ourselves in, I do care about your well-being. ’Tis my duty to ensure ye arrive to Tolton Hall unharmed.”

She bowed her head in thanks and moved her gaze to the window. Her attempt to get him talking again had failed. Malcolm was back to treating her formally. It was as if the closer they got to Stonehaven, the tighter his professional hat came on.

Blowing out a breath, she hoped they would arrive at their destination soon. She didn’t normally like to mope, but yet, the longer she sat here, in this silent carriage, the more sour her mood got.

When she saw the trees give way to buildings and felt the familiar rumble of cobblestone beneath the carriage wheels, Lizzie breathed a sigh of relief. They had finally arrived in town and would soon be at whatever inn it was that Malcolm deemed appropriate for them to spend the afternoon and night.

As expected, the inn was clean and airy with beautiful decorations. After the accommodations Malcolm had provided previously, she expected naught less. The room she and Mary were assigned was comfortable and spacious. Two beds covered with rose-colored bedding and blue pillows sat on opposite walls. Finally, they each had their own bed. Not that she had minded their shared sleeping arrangements, but it would be nice not to worry about waking Mary if she had another restless night.

Unceremoniously, Lizzie dropped onto one, bouncing on the mattress, her arm covering her eyes.

The bed dipped beside her and Mary patted her leg.

“What bothers ye, Miss? I believe we will arrive home on the morrow. Doesna that make ye happy?”

Lizzie straightened her arms and fisted the duvet. “Nay. I mean, aye, I will be happy to be home. But I dinna look forward to dealing with my parents’ wrath. They are going to be most upset with me.”

Mary sighed. “Aye, ye will need to put your debating skills to use when that conversation happens,” she chided.

Lizzie kenned she was trying to lighten the mood, and she appreciated her maid for doing so. But she still dreaded their arrival.

“I suppose on the bright side, I will be able to prove my innocence to the earl.”

“Right. That is a good thing, is it no’?”

She sighed. “’Tis. Do ye think he dislikes me so?”

Mary frowned. “Whye’er do ye ask such a thing?”

“His demeanor today was quite distant. Did ye no’ think so? ’Twas much different than previously.” She opted not to tell Mary of how attractive she found him when he let down his guard. Or how his deep brogue had her toes curling in her slippers.

“I think he may just have a lot on his mind. Mayhap he is questioning whether or no’ ye really are the thief.” Mary pulled her to a sitting position. “We both ken ye are no’, but he doesna ken aught about ye.”

She blew out an exasperated breath and pushed off the bed. She spoke as she looked out the window, taking in the city below. “I was trying to initiate some of that earlier, but he didna bite. I fear he just believes I am a thief and he’s ready to be rid of me.”

“Ye must stop these negative thoughts, Miss.” Mary set about unpacking their bags for the night.

Mary was right, of course. But Lizzie was beginning to think that Malcolm just wanted to get her home and have naught else do with her. Her feelings were all over the place and she didn’t quite understand why it bothered her so much. Why she felt she needed his validation, she didn’t ken.

For whatever reason, she wanted him to like her. It made no sense.

She watched the passersby with interest and wondered what it would be like to walk down the street on Malcolm’s arm. Would they be like the young couple that just entered the bakery across the way, on the hunt for some sweets to share? Or would they be like the family that slowly ambled along, the woman’s belly round with child, as a tot walked between them, each of them holding onto one of his tiny hands? She could only imagine the looks they would receive in either scenario. Indeed they would make a dashing pair, she dared to admit.

A plan started to bloom in her mind. She turned with a chuckle and Mary looked at her like she had two heads, her brow raised in question.

Shaking her head, she dismissed the unspoken question with a wave of her hand.

She would get Malcolm to know her. To like her.

Later that night, after Mary had fallen asleep, Lizzie slipped out of bed. Malcolm had reserved the room right next to them, though she wouldna be surprised if he was standing guard outside their door in the hall. Just as he had done in every inn they’d stayed in on this journey.

Pushing her feet into slippers, she pulled on her robe and cinched it at the waist. With one last look over her shoulder to make sure Mary still slept, she opened the door and slipped out into the hall.

As expected, Malcolm was there. He looked positively exhausted with his shoulders slumped as he leaned his back against the door. She couldn’t blame him. She could count on her hands the amount of sleep he’d had since they’d left Twynholm.

“Let me guess,” Malcolm spoke quietly. “Ye canna sleep and are in search of warm milk?”

Rubbing her hands together, she took a deep breath, trying to tamp down her nerves that had her stomach suddenly in knots.

“I am no’. I was wondering if we might talk?”

His brows furrowed and his mouth turned down into a frown. He straightened as his eyes darted to the door. “Is something wrong?”

Holding her hands out in front of her to calm him down, she shook her head. “Nay, no’ at all. All is well. Mary is sleeping like the dead.” She laughed and began to pace the floor. “I dinna think traveling sits verra well with her. She finds it tiring.”

A smile brightened his face and Malcolm nodded in understanding. “I miss those days.” He bent his knee and slung his arm over the top.

“I do feel awfully bad that I am the cause of your lack of sleep.”

“Och, Lass. Ye arena. Dinna fash about that. Now, what would ye like to talk about?”

She glanced up and down the hall. The hour was late and she didn’t want to wake anyone trying to rest in their rooms.

“May we speak in private? I wouldna want to wake and anger any other patrons here.”

He narrowed his eyes, suddenly looking unsure. “What are ye proposing, miss?” He pushed off the floor and stood tall.

She had to crane her neck to look into his eyes. His mention of the word proposing had her stomach doing a flip for no reason at all.

“Mayhap we can speak in your room?”

Leaning his head back against the door, he closed his eyes. He looked pained.

“I dinna believe that is a good idea.”

“Well, we canna stand out here and have a conversation, surely.” The thought of someone hearing their exchange was mortifying. Just because there was no one in the hall with them didn’t mean that no one was listening. The walls weren’t so thick to block all conversation.

“And we most definitely should no’ be in my room. By ourselves. With ye unchaperoned.”

She put her hands on her hips and huffed out an exasperated breath. “What do ye think is going to happen? Ye are an honorable man. I trust ye. Do ye no’ trust yourself?”

“Miss,” he warned. “I’ve no concern with myself. I think I’ve proven that in our journey up to this point. Havena I?”

He had a point. Even with his bouts of gruffness, he’d been naught but gentlemanlike in his actions toward her.

Two doors down, a man with groggy eyes stuck his balding head out into the hallway. “I dinna care who dishonors who. Go have your conversation somewhere other than the damn hall.” He snapped before disappearing inside and shutting the door quietly behind him.

“Shite,” Malcolm muttered. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his room.

It looked similar to her room, including the two beds, which at first glance, looked like they were way too small to fit Malcolm’s large frame.

He pointed to one of the beds. “Ye sit there. I will stay here.” He was clear on the other side of the room, leaning against the wardrobe, ankles crossed. “Now, what did ye want to speak about?”

Her nerves jumped and her heartbeat hastened. She felt the teeniest bit of perspiration break out on her brow. Why was it so hot in here all of a sudden? She smoothed the skirt of her gown with her palms and exhaled slowly.

“I was wondering if I have done something to offend ye?”

He frowned as his eyes clashed with hers. “Why do ye ask such a thing?”

She shrugged. “It seemed like we were enjoying each other’s company. Telling each other of our pasts, and then today, ye have been naught but cold.”

“Lass, I fear ye forget our places. Just because I’d rather endure the journey with talk instead of suffering it in silence doesna mean that we are friends.”

She winced at his words. She couldn’t help it. They hurt far more than they should. As if he’d pulled the dagger from his boot and stabbed her in the heart. But he lied. Malcolm Kennedy may be a lot of things that she didn’t ken, but she could tell their conversations had been genuine. Why act this way now?

“I dinna believe ye,” she said quietly.

“What is there no’ to believe? I have given ye no signals of anything but where we stand now.”

Forcing herself to her feet, and in a sudden burst of bravado, she closed the distance between them. Stopping mere inches from him. At this closeness, she needed to crane her neck to look into his eyes. Eyes which were focused on something on the wall behind her, stubbornly refusing to meet her gaze.

“Lass,” he warned.

With even more bravado, she reached out and placed a hand on his chest.

He hissed and grasped her hand in his, pulling it off of him, but he didn’t let go.

“Ye havena any idea what ye are playing with,” he warned again, his blue eyes dark.

Straightening her shoulders, she jutted her chin out defiantly. “Why dinna ye show me then?” she asked, her voice sounding odd to her own ears. Embarrassed at her forwardness, she blushed as heat pooled at her center.

Letting go of her hand, he stepped away and instantly she felt the coolness of his absence. She spun and addressed him. “Ye are a verra confusing man, Malcolm Kennedy.”

He raised his brow in question but remained silent, his back stiff and straight.

“Ye treat me with kindness, then coldness, then kindness again. Ye park yourself outside my door to keep me safe, but yet want naught to do with me.”

“What kind of man would your father think of me if I let any harm come to ye whilst ye were in my care?”

“Bollocks,” she cursed.

Malcolm’s eyes rounded in surprise as his mouth turned up in a smirk.

Closing the distance between them again, but this time she kept her hands on her hips. “I think ye are being deceitful when it comes to your feelings.” There, she said it. Even though he didn’t think she noticed, she did. She saw the way he stole glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking or paying attention. She’d seen them all.

His eyes flared and his hand snaked to the back of her neck, pulling her flush to his chest.

A yelp escaped her lips, but she made no move to back away.

“Ye are insufferable, Lizzie Barclay.”

And then he dropped his head and his mouth captured hers. The kiss was fierce, not soft. It held all this passion that he could no longer contain and poured it all into this kiss.

And she loved every moment of it. She kenned she shouldn’t. It was wrong in so many ways, but God above, she wanted the kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to his and when his tongue entered her mouth, a thrill shot through her spine. She’d never felt anything like it, and she sighed into his mouth.

He dropped his arms to her waist and his hands cupped her buttocks, pulling her even closer. She gasped as she felt his erection against her stomach.

He broke the kiss, pulling his mouth away from hers, but he kept her pressed against him. His gaze smashed into hers and she noted the blue of his eyes had darkened even deeper than before to the color of the sea on a stormy night.

“Ye are entering dangerous territory, Lass.”