Chapter Thirteen

M alcolm stood there, his cock pressed into Lizzie’s stomach and he wanted so much more. Being close to her wasn’t enough. He wanted to be buried bollocks deep inside of her sweetness.

And it was wrong.

So wrong.

Every fiber of his being told him to push her away. To leave the room. But he couldn’t get himself to do it. It was as if his feet were planted into the floor.

She felt so good molded against him. As if she were made to fit him and only him.

Her erratic breathing matched his own.

“Kiss me again,” she whispered, her voice husky, edged with need.

Fuck. As much as he kenned he should be a gentleman and send her on her way. That what they were about to do, because there was no denying what was going to happen, shouldn’t happen. They both kenned it would.

But he was the man. He should stop. But he couldn’t.

“Malcolm,” she called, forcing him to look at her with a soft hand placed against his cheek. As her fingers stroked his skin and then pushed through his hair, she brought his mouth down to hers. Her mouth was open, waiting for him.

And he was lost. Like a man starving, he devoured her mouth as his hands roamed over her body. He found the bow at her waist and pulled at the tie, feeling her robe open.

He paused, because as much as he wanted this, she only had to say nay and he would stop that very second. No question. He would not push her into something she did not want.

“Lizzie?”

“Hmmm,” she moaned, her lips red and swollen from their kisses.

“We need to stop.”

“I dinna want to.” She tried to pull him down to her again, but by something that could only be a miracle, he held back.

“There is nay going back if we continue.”

“I understand.” The look through her lashes she gave him had his cock weeping.

“Ye will be ruined.”

“I dinna care.”

He sighed. “I do. Your future husband will verra much care.” And that was the thought that did it. As much as he wanted to lose himself in her soft curves, he would not be the cause of her fall from society.

Thief or not, he had more honor than that.

He stepped back, and the look of hurt in her eyes hit him like a punch in the gut.

She reached for him, but he shook his head. “Nay, Lass. We canna. Ye deserve more.”

“Let me decide what ’tis I deserve.” He saw the tear drop from in the corner of her eye and he had to fight the urge to kiss it away. Guilt consumed him about how selfish he had acted.

He approached her and her eyes brightened. Only to dim once again when he reached forward and cinched her robe closed and tied it off.

“Malcolm,” she choked.

“Lass,” he moved to the bed and sat down, “come sit, let us talk.”

She sat beside him, their arms brushing, and he thought that this wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had. He only had to kiss her and lean her back onto the mattress, lift the skirts of her nightdress, drag his hand lazily up her…

“Shite,” he snapped and he jumped from the bed as if he’d been burned by the fires of hell itself.

Her pretty mouth formed into an O as she watched him.

“What did I do?”

Pushing his hands through his hair, he paced the floor, moving from one side of the room to the other as she tracked his every step. The room felt too small. He needed more space.

“I fear I am e’en more confused than I was earlier. Do ye havena interest in me?”

He barked out a laugh, the sound filling the room, and he wouldn’t be surprised if everyone else staying at the inn had heard it.

“Och, Lass, havena ye seen the effect ye have on me? Didna ye feel it when ye were pressed against me?”

She nodded, wringing her hands in her lap. “Then what is the issue?”

“Ye are an innocent. I willna take that from ye.”

She worried her lip, her slippered foot drawing invisible lines on the carpet. “But what if I want to give it to ye. Ye dinna have to take it. I offer it freely.”

Her words were soft. Innocent. He groaned. Lizzie was going to be the death of him. War wasn’t as dangerous as this lass in his room was. “Ye dinna understand what ye speak of. The consequences it will have on your life. On your future. Your chances to secure a husband.”

“What if I dinna want a husband? Or what if I do and I ken who ’tis?”

“Christ. Ye are already promised to someone?” Jesus, it was a good thing he’d gotten his wits about him when he did. Otherwise, he’d be dueling at dawn against someone he’d never met. She was full of surprises.

“Nay!” She hopped up from the bed and sidled toward him, her hips swaying back and forth in the most seductive way.

Damn, she was good. For a woman with no experience, she could give some of the more experienced women he’d lost himself in before a run for their money. Whether it was her innocence that propelled her forward or instinct, he didn’t know. But it was breaking him. The walls he’d constructed were starting to crumble. His defenses were being battered and he feared defeat was in his future.

For the first time in his life.

“Mayhap ye could be my husband,” she said innocently, her cheeks a beautiful pink.

“I canna.”

“Why no’?” She stopped in front of him, looking up through her long, dark lashes. Her chocolate brown eyes shining in the candlelight.

“Because I belong to no one. I’m nobody’s man. Or husband.”

She tilted her head, her tongue darting out and wetting her lips and his cock about punched through his pants. He groaned, unable to contain himself.

“But ye could be,” she said quietly. “Who’s stopping ye?”

He had to stop and think about that for a long moment. Who was stopping him? Other than himself. He’d always told himself he would be alone. It was easier belonging to nobody than tangling himself in a relationship.

But the halls of Culzean were awfully quiet. Certainly, he hadn’t met anyone in Edinburgh that he found interesting enough to want to spend more than a night with.

But Lizzie? He could picture her curled up on the chaise lounge in front of the fireplace in his library, reading a book, while he sat in his chair, smoking a pipe whilst he read the paper.

The image was clear as day in his mind, and it caused him to suck in his breath sharply.

“What is it?” Lizzie asked, concern creasing her forehead. “I didna mean to upset ye. I apologize.” She threw her arms up in the air. “I have no idea what I am doing obviously. I guess I thought I had seen something that wasna there.”

Throwing his head back, he bit back a groan. What she thought was true. He just wasn’t ready to admit it to himself.

He was being a cad. And he kenned it.

She moved to the door, and he hurried over to it, blocking her exit.

“Lass,” he whispered, his voice low.

“Aye?” She said, her arms crossed in front of her breasts. Breasts that he wanted to see so badly. Breasts that he yearned to cup in his hands, kenning they would be the perfect fit for his palms.

“I dinna want ye to go,” he confessed. His mind screamed at him that he was wrong, but his heart. His body. They both cheered in triumph as she sank into his arms and he scooped her up as if his very life depended on it.

His mouth found hers once again and he savored the taste of her. She tasted of the ripest, sweetest berry, and he was a starving man.

The way she clung to him had him feeling like he never wanted her to let go.

He broke the kiss and pushed off the door, carrying Lizzie to the bed where he gently laid her down.

She looked up at him, her big brown eyes hooded.

Steps sounded outside the door and the intrusion shook him out of whatever hold the lass had on him. It was as if she were a witch, casting a spell upon him. He sat up and rested his head in his hands.

“I canna do it, Lass.”

A small hand clutched his shoulder, and she pulled herself up. Lizzie settled in beside him, her body warm against his.

“I want ye, too,” she said quietly.

He shook his head. “I canna. I will no’ ruin ye to satisfy my wants. Or your wants. Ye deserve better.”

The words killed him as they left his mouth. Never had he put so much effort into not bedding a lass. It was taking all of his willpower and the longer she looked at him with hunger in her eyes, the more he wanted to push her onto the bed and tup her right there.

He stood and offered her his hand. When she clasped it, her fingers curling around his, he pulled her up. “Come on, Lass. Let’s get ye back to your own room.”

Without a word, she nodded and let him lead her out into the hall.

At her door, he paused.

“Lass, if our situation were different, ’twould be nay hesitation on my part. Ye are a beautiful woman that deserves the world.” He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, letting his fingers trail slowly down her cheek.

And then, not trusting himself to keep his word, he quickly spun on his heel, disappearing into his own room, and locking the door, trying not to pay attention to Lizzie standing there looking dejected.

*

Pushing open the door to her room, Lizzie entered and closed it behind her. Mary still slept. Lizzie was amazed she didn’t hear any of the actions outside their room. To her ears it seemed like they were making enough noise to raise the dead.

Her skin still tingled from all of Malcolm’s touches. She didn’t want him to stop, and she’d be lying if his words didn’t hurt.

They did.

She slipped into bed and buried her head in the pillow. Wishing for sleep to overtake her so she could escape all the emotions running wild through her body.

After tossing and turning for the next hour, sleep, finally overtook her.

“Miss.” Lizzie woke to the sound of Mary’s voice and a gentle shaking. “’Tis time to wake. We must make haste. ’Tis late.”

Lizzie groaned and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She was exhausted. “What time is it?”

“The earl is waiting for us in the hall.”

Really? Had she really slept so late?

“I thought something was amiss with ye. I tried waking ye earlier and there was no rousing ye.”

She wasn’t ready to face Malcolm. Her limbs felt heavy and she wanted naught more than to curl up and burrow herself under the covers.

His rejection was embarrassing.

“Come on, Miss.”

Mary unceremoniously yanked the duvet down and Lizzie groaned.

“Fine!” she blurted. “Since ye willna cease.”

Her maid giggled. “We’ve no time. Ye dinna want to keep the earl waiting any longer, do ye?”

Actually, she did, but she couldn’t tell Mary that. If her maid learned how close she had come to giving herself to the earl last night, she would have her head.

Then she would tell her parents what she’d done, and they would insist that the earl make things right and take responsibility for his actions.

Yet, she felt she was the one pushing more. Aye, he felt the same as her, but he had much more self-control.

Much more.

And in the light of a new day, she realized he was right in sending her back to her room. Not that she would have regretted it. She wouldn’t have. But she understood the repercussions of what almost happened.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Malcolm was right. When she saw him later, she would thank him. It was stupid. He’d probably think she was daft but, truly, she was grateful that he was able to keep his wits about him.

One of them had to.

Because she definitely had not.

After freshening up and dressing in a light-yellow day dress with a green sash tied at her waist, Lizzie opened the door to a waiting Malcolm. His eyes flared at the sight of her. Proof that his feelings were there. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered to life and her pulse quickened.

Not trusting her voice, she nodded her greeting, and they made their way downstairs and out to the carriage.

Today they would finally arrive at Tolton Hall. She was both excited and weary about seeing her parents again. Certainly, this would be the last time they ever let her travel alone again. For that she was sure.

She’d broken their trust. They wouldn’t take kindly to that. She’d probably be locked in her room until they felt she’d learned her lesson. But on the bright side, today was also the day she would prove to Malcolm that she wasn’t a thief.

And she would get her grandmother’s jewelry back. Where it rightfully belonged.

Malcolm cleared his throat behind her. “Lass, may I have a word?”

She turned to look at him, and in his eyes was that same longing from the night before. One that matched her own.

“Of course.” She stepped back from the carriage and Mary went to follow, but she waved her away. “We willna be far, Mary. Dinna fash. We will stay within eyesight.”

“Aye, Miss.” Mary curtsied and hung back as Malcolm guided Lizzie by the elbow and they walked away out of earshot.

He blew out an exasperated breath before speaking. He looked like he was searching for the right words to say. He also looked like he hadn’t slept a wink last night. His blond hair wasn’t brushed as neatly as it usually was. And dark circles formed under his eyes.

She stayed silent, her hands clasped in front of her as she watched a flood of emotions cross his handsome face.

“About last night…”

“Och.” She clucked her tongue and waved his words away. “Please, my lord. We needn’t discuss what transpired. Or did no’ transpire,” she added, a bit playfully to the lighten the mood which had grown heavy when they left Mary.

He chuckled, running a hand through his thick hair, causing it to stand on end. “I appreciate ye saying such words. I would like ye to ken that if circumstances were different, I would court ye in a heartbeat. Which, if ye kenned my past, ye would understand how much that means.”

She licked her lips and caught the way his eyes tracked to her mouth, his pupils flaring. Tilting her head to the side, she put her hands on her hips. “Ye are welcome to tell me about how great a feat that is. Because right now, I am sorry to say that I dinna understand.” She took in a deep breath before continuing. “But one thing I can tell ye, because I can understand it, is that last night there were plenty of sparks shared betwixt us. And while I may no’ be experienced in such things, I dinna consider myself a dolt.”

His eyes rounded. “I would ne’er say such a thing.” For a moment it looked like he was going to reach for her hand, but his gaze shot back to where Mary was standing, watching their every move and he dropped his hand to his side.

“Ye are a verra lovely lass. Whoe’er ye marry will be verra lucky to have ye.”

“Whilst I appreciate your niceties, my lord, your words leave me just as confused as last night.” Lizzie had never thought of herself as being particularly forward with men, or anyone really, but she found when it came to Malcolm, she couldn’t hold back. “’Twould be nice if ye would give me the benefit of an explanation of what ye meant earlier. Ye are correct I ken naught of your past. But I would like to. If ye would only open up to me. But instead ye hold back. Ye dangle a wee glimpse of what things could be like in front of me, and when I make the jump to accept, ye pull it away. Why?”