Chapter Fifteen

M alcolm watched Lizzie hurry out the door, and it took all of his strength not to chase after her and crush her in his arms. He wanted to whisper in her ear that everything would be all right.

She looked crushed when her father told her to leave the room, and it hit Malcolm like a punch in the gut.

He noticed Mrs. Barclay assessing his gaze as he tracked Lizzie. Her brows lifted in curiosity when their eyes met, but he said naught.

“So, Lord Kennedy,” Sir Barclay stated, oblivious to what his wife had just observed. “I would like to ken how ye came to be acquainted with our daughter?”

His voice was stern, and Malcolm couldn’t blame him for his countenance. If an unknown man arrived on his doorstep escorting his unmarried daughter, he would also be upset.

Malcolm cleared his throat. His nerves did a wee jump. He almost laughed. Of all the situations he had found himself in previously, this was by far the least dangerous, and the most innocent, but yet he found himself more nervous than ever.

A niggling thought entered his mind.

Ye ken what this means. Ye like the lass.

If he didn’t have Lizzie’s parents looking at him and waiting for him to answer the question, he might have laughed at the absurdity.

She was just a job.

And he was just a fool if he actually believed that.

“My lord?” Sir Barclay pushed.

“Ah, yes. Apologies.”

Mrs. Barclay gave him a small smile but remained silent.

“We, Miss Lizzie and I, met at the Wilsons’ party at which we were both in attendance.”

“Do ye ken the viscount well?”

Malcolm shrugged. “We have kenned each other for quite some time. He hired my services to ensure the safety of their jewels from the Phantom Prowler—if he happened to show up.”

“Did he?” Sir Barclay asked.

Malcolm chuckled. “No’ in the verra least. As a matter of fact, I was making one last round of the Wilson estate afore taking my leave for the night. I happened to hear noise coming from the viscountess’s bedchamber and, kenning she was downstairs, there should have been no-one in the room.” He paused before continuing on. “When I investigated—”

“Investigated? Are ye a detective, Lord Kennedy?” Mrs. Barclay asked.

“Nay.” He shook his head. “I’ve just done this line of work for quite some time, so Wilson called me in. As I was saying, whilst investigating the source of the noise, I came upon Miss Lizzie. In the viscountess’s chamber, her hands deep in the lady’s jewel chest.”

Mrs. Barclay gasped, her hand moving to fidget once again with the pendant hanging at her neck. “Ye think our Lizzie is the Phantom Prowler? She has ne’er done aught as this. She is a good girl.”

“Och, I have nay doubt—”

Mrs. Barclay sucked in a breath.

“—that Miss Lizzie is no’ the Phantom Prowler.”

The baroness let out a long breath of relief, but then turned serious. “But ye caught her stealing?”

Malcolm smiled sheepishly. “Aye, I did. And straightaway, Miss Lizzie tried to explain away her actions. She mentioned her grandmama, and how the jewelry belonged to her and she was only reclaiming it.”

“Oh, well, that’s a relief.”

“Ye didna turn her into the viscount?” Sir Barclay asked.

“I could do nay such thing. Your daughter was verra vehement in insisting that she was no’ the prowler, and that she could prove it.” He pointed to the picture that Lizzie told him would prove her innocence.

“She stated that I only needed to set eyes upon this portrait and that she would be proven innocent. She made a verra believable plea. And, dare I say, that the amount of noise she was making trying to find her grandmama’s jewels would most definitely rule her out of being the prowler. The prowler was aptly named Phantom as no one kenned he was there. I couldna say that about Miss Lizzie. Which is a good thing,” he added.

“Howe’er, I did need her to prove her case. At one point in our travels, a nearby estate was robbed. I would be remiss if I didna confess that there was a moment, I thought Lizzie was playing me for a fool. ’Tis why I am here.”

“Well,” Mrs. Barclay said. “Now that that has been cleared up, we can move on.”

“No’ quite so fast,” Sir Barclay chimed in. “I am glad ye have concluded our Lizzie is no’ the Phantom Prowler and that her intentions were pure. What is no’ clear, is why did Lizzie believe she would find the jewels at the viscount’s estate? Why were they at the estate in the viscountess’s jewelry chest?”

“Ye may be best to ask this question of Miss Lizzie. I asked her the same.”

Sir Barclay assessed Malcolm as if to verify he was telling the truth. Malcolm kept a straight face, his mouth set in a firm line that offered no argument. He’d been scrutinized by far more threatening men in his lifetime. Though admittedly, not by any of whom when he found their daughter incredibly enticing.

Sir Barclay sighed. “I suppose we shall ask her.” He called for Mary and they waited in silence for the maid to arrive. When she did, he ordered her to collect Lizzie and have her rejoin them in the salon.

“Whilst we wait, may I offer ye tea, my lord?”

“I am fine, thank ye.” He thrummed his fingers along the wooden arm of the chair he sat in as he waited for Lizzie to reappear.

When she entered the room, Malcolm’s heart tugged. She looked defeated. Gone was the sassy, chipper lass that he’d gotten to ken over their journey to Tolton Hall. Guilt assuaged him. He couldn’t help feeling that he was to blame.

“Ah, Lizzie. Please have a seat,” her father ordered.

She hurried to an empty chair and gracefully folded into it.

“It has been confirmed that ye couldna possibly be the Phantom Prowler.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes as if that were obvious.

“Howe’er, how did ye ken ye would find your grandmama’s jewelry at the Wilson’s?”

Malcolm sat quietly as he listened to Lizzie explain how she figured out Viscountess Wilson was the Phantom Prowler. Her explanation now was the same as it was, when he’d asked her the same question.

“But I dinna want to get the viscountess in trouble. No’ at all. I did what I set out to do.”

Finally, not able to remain silent any longer, Malcolm spoke up. “Ye realize what ye have done?” he asked Lizzie.

Her gaze flew to his, worry darkening the irises. “I-I dinna ken,” she said quietly.

Smiling, he pushed off the chair and walked to the far side of the room, then turned to face the Barclays. “All of Scotland is on the Phantom Prowler case, who, by the way, is widely believed to be male. Ye have succeeded in what they have failed. Ye identified the prowler.”

Lizzie shook her head. “That is no’ what I was trying to do. I only wanted—”

Malcolm held up his hand. “I ken, ye only wanted to retrieve what was rightfully yours. Which ye did, but also, in the process, ye uncovered the thief. Something some of the most qualified investigators have been unable to do.”

“I willna say a word or turn her into the authorities. The viscountess is a family friend. Has been for as long as I can remember. But I willna ruin her life. E’en if she stole what was most precious to me.”

He admired her determination to keep her family friend safe, even when that friend put her own freedom in jeopardy.

“Was the viscount made aware of Lizzie’s actions?”

Malcolm shook his head. “Absolutely no’. I gave no inclination whatsoe’er as to what Miss Lizzie had been up to.”

“Well, whilst I am proud of ye for uncovering the thief, I am no’ happy with the way ye went about it. Howe’er, I have no intention of bringing any related attention to our family, so I will leave ye do to what ye will with the information regarding the viscountess, Lord Kennedy.” Sir Barclay sat back in his chair and pierced him with a serious look.

“Now, onto the subject of my daughter. Ye have traveled the countryside with her. Alone.”

“Papa,” Lizzie chimed in. “We werena alone. Mary was with us at all times.”

“Aye, so instead of traveling with one young girl alone, he’s traveled with two. That is much better.”

Malcolm pushed off the wall, the urge to clench his hands into fists strong. His voice low, he addressed Barclay. “Dinna speak aloud what ye are thinking, I warn ye. Ye forget who ye are speaking to. I would ne’er compromise the innocence of a lass. And I’m offended that ye would say such a thing.”

Sir Barclay clenched his jaw as he held Malcolm’s gaze. It felt like he was trying to read his very soul. And if he could, he would see that Malcolm had not harmed the lass.

Had he crossed a line? Aye. By kissing her, he most definitely had. But he would not admit to doing so and put Lizzie in a compromising position.

Apparently, believing what he saw, Barclay looked away with a nod.

“The hour grows late, my lord. I insist that ye stay the night. ’Tis no’ safe to travel the roads at night,” Mrs. Barclay declared. Her eyes darted to Lizzie and then back to him. “Besides, ’tis been a long day cooped up in the carriage and then in the house, I think a stroll around the estate would do ye and Lizzie some good,” she prompted.

“Dearest?” Sir Barclay questioned.

She dismissed his question with a wave of her hand. “They can take Mary as chaperone if ’twill make ye feel better. I doubt the earl would try to defile our daughter on a walk of our grounds.”

Lizzie gasped from her chair. “Mama!”

“Och, please. Go,” Mrs. Barclay ordered, shooing her hands in front of her. “Outside with ye both.” She nodded her head in Malcolm’s direction, then dropped into a curtsy. “My lord.”

*

Lizzie had no idea what had overcome her mama. It was so very far out of character for her mama to sweep them out the door for a walk.

Yet, here she found herself, outside with the earl. Her arm linked into his as they walked the path outside the estate that would bring them close to the sea. As ordered, Mary followed behind them at a safe distance.

“Your mama is a feisty woman,” Malcolm commented, breaking the silence.

“Aye. I dinna ken what came over her.”

“Indeed, but I shan’t complain.”

She looked up to see him smiling down at her. “Careful, Papa is already suspicious of ye and your actions.”

Malcolm barked out a laugh. “My actions? Whate’er do ye speak of?”

She bumped her shoulder into his side. “Thank ye for no’ mentioning the kiss. Or kisses. Papa would be most upset with that information.”

“I would ne’er do or say anything to put ye in an ill light. I promise ye that.”

The rocky pathway gave way to pebbly sand, making Lizzie’s steps unsteady. Malcolm’s arm tightened, pulling her closer to ensure she didn’t fall.

Worrying her lip with her teeth, she thought of how to voice what was running rampant through her mind. He might think her silly. But she wanted him to ken. To understand how she felt.

“I must confess, I verra much liked your kisses.” She felt her face flame at her confession. Their eyes met and the heat in his gaze sent shivers up and down her spine. It gave her the confidence to continue. “Ye illicit feelings in me that I’ve ne’er experienced afore.”

“Lass.”

The word was almost a moan as it fell from his full lips, drawing her attention to them. Was it wrong that she wanted him to kiss her again? Wrong that she longed for the feel of his touch? She was certain that the feelings were shared between the two of them. His reaction to her was just as strong as she to him.

With a glance over her shoulder to see where Mary was, she pulled Malcolm into an ivy-covered alcove.

“Lass, we canna do this,” Malcolm pleaded, as if he was physically in pain.

“Kiss me,” she ordered, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. She waited, holding her breath to see what he would do.

His facial expressions went from concern, to surprise, to his eyes flaring with heat.

“Mary will see. And I willna put ye in a position ye later regret.”

His ethics were commendable. But she didn’t want ethics. Didn’t want nice. She wanted Malcolm’s lips on hers.

And naught would appease her.

“I promise ye ’tis no’ something I will regret.” She grasped his lapels and pulled him closer. “Now, afore Mary arrives, kiss me as I asked.”

His pupils blew wide at her words.

Mayhap she was being too forward. It was most unladylike, but when it came to Malcolm Kennedy, she could not help herself.

Losing his fight of self-control, Malcolm lowered his head and captured her lips in a searing kiss that had her toes curling in her walking slippers.

She clung to her shoulders for if she didn’t, she would surely lose her ability to stand. She savored the feel of him flush against her. Savored the taste of him. She wanted the kiss to last forever.

But much too quickly, Malcolm broke the kiss, straightening to full height, and yanked at his cravat as he cleared his throat.

“Lizzie.”

She loved when he called her by her name without the “Miss” in front of it.

“Ye are playing with fire, Lass.” He pulled her back onto the walking path just as Mary caught up to them. “The creeping ivy is lovely,” he stated, admirably trying to conceal the reason they were in the alcove in the first place.

Mary knotted her brows, but said naught.

They continued on their walk, keeping their voices low so as not to allow Mary to hear their conversation.

“I would verra much like to be greeted that way e’ery time we meet.”

He patted the hand she had resting in the crook of his elbow. “As much as I would like to fulfill your request, I dinna believe your father would be quite happy with that.” He winked at her and her knees nearly buckled.

“But, would ye like it?” she asked.

His gaze was serious as he looked at her. “I would, Lass. Verra much so.”

It was as if the good lord above had shined his very light upon her. Inside her chest, her heart swelled.

Gathering her courage once again, she pushed forward. “Ye could speak to Papa,” she suggested hopefully.

They came upon a bench set against a trellis wall of more creeping ivy and Malcolm pulled her over to sit upon it.

Mary stopped walking and held her distance, but still kept an eye on them. Lizzie was still amazed she hadn’t rushed forward when they’d disappeared into the alcove.

Malcolm’s brows furrowed, his lips pressed together as he appeared to mull over what he wanted to say.

She folded her hands on her lap and waited patiently. Is this when he called her a young lass with a head full of childhood dreams? Even though he said he wanted to kiss her every day didn’t mean that he would be willing to accept the commitment such a task would require. They hadn’t spoke of a courtship previously. Would they now?

“Tell me what your future looks like.”

The question was most unexpected. It was her turn to grow serious. Truth be told, she saw him in her future. Them building a home together. Raising a family together. Did she dare say as much? Her stomach clenched in a knot. Telling Malcolm that she wanted to be greeted by his kisses every day was one thing. But actually telling him that she wanted to build a life with him? That could be too much.

And the last thing she wanted to feel was his rejection.

But, she’d confessed so much already. Been so improperly forward already, why should she stop now?

A breeze swirled around them, blowing loose a tendril of hair that she swiped away and tucked behind her ear.

“If I am being honest, I see ye in my future. I think I have pictured it since the moment I first laid eyes upon ye. Afore ye found me in the viscountess’s chambers. I’m no’ sure if ye remember, but our eyes had met afore then.”

He nodded. “Aye, I remember. I remember seeing the most beautiful eyes I’d e’er had the pleasure to lay sight upon.”

Again, her stomach flip-flopped. She couldn’t stop the huge smile that spread across her face.

“I canna forget that moment.”

“Nor can I.” He smiled warmly. “With that being said, I believe the only thing that I can do from this point forward is to woo ye by courting ye. If ye’ll have me, of course.”