Chapter Nineteen

A loud pounding on Malcolm’s bedchamber door made him growl out in frustration. “Go away!”

Instead of going away as he’d ordered, the door burst open. “Fuck,” he cursed as he covered his eyes from the intrusion of light filtering around the figures in the hallway. He’d been blissfully enjoying the darkness for, well, he couldn’t remember for how long, but it had been some time.

“It stinks of whisky and sweat in here.”

It was Gunn. He hadn’t seen him since the party where he’d first met Lizzie.

Lizzie.

Ignoring his friend, he grasped the bottle and emptied it, then set it on the table to join the others he’d drained.

“Hell’s teeth, brother,” Alexander, Duke of Argyll, commented as he stepped into the room. “’Tis like a sty in here. Have ye decided to live with the hogs?”

Malcolm didn’t answer. Just reached for another bottle of whisky and uncorked the bottle.

“I shall be taking that,” Finlay, Earl of Rosebery, stated, snatching the bottle out of his hand.

For once, he wasn’t happy to see his friends.

“Give that back.” He moved to stand, and the room spun so he flopped back into the chair.

“We kenned ye were bad, but we didna ken ’twas this bad.” Alexander waved his hand in the air. “When is the last time ye changed your clothes? Or bathed?”

“Dinna ye all have wives to tend to?” Malcolm mumbled, ignoring his friend’s questions. “Is Nicholas going to be walking in the door as well? What are ye all doing here?”

Finlay moved to the windows and pushed the drapes open.

“Damn it,” Malcolm swore before covering his eyes. He hadn’t seen the light of day since he arrived back to Culzean almost three weeks ago. The brightness burned his eyes causing his head to ache even more.

Or mayhap that was due to the amount of whisky he’d been drinking. He’d lost track at how many bottles he was up to.

“Shut the damn curtains,” he ordered to no avail.

“No’ a chance. And nay, Nicholas is staying home. Gwen is round with their next bairn that is due any day now.”

He should be happy for his friend. Happy that he would be blessed with another baby, but all he could think about was what he’d lost with Lizzie. How he’d never get the chance to see her belly round with their own bairn.

The realization of that was like a knife to the gut.

“Ye need to get out of this room, brother. Ye are doing yourself nay favors hiding away.” Gunn stood in front of him, arms crossed, his forehead creased with concern.

“I am nay good to anyone anyway.”

“Bollocks,” Alexander snapped. “Are ye giving up? Just like that. You’re not e’en going to put up a fight? That’s no’ the Malcolm Kennedy I ken.”

“Ye dinna understand.”

Finlay stretched his arms out. “Then tell us. We are all ears.”

“I killed her brother.”

“What?” Alexander asked. “Who?”

“Lizzie’s brother. Angus.”

Finlay cocked his head to the side, deep in thought. “Angus.” His eyes lit up with awareness. “The traitor?”

“The verra one.”

“Let’s be honest. The only one that got Angus killed was himself. He kenned the risks and still did the crime.”

“Aye.” He waved his hand in the air. “I ken all that. But all Lizzie sees is that I killed her brother. She had nay idea he had e’en been executed. She thought he’d died a hero.”

“What?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Lord, his head hurt. “Aye, her parents lied to her about his death to preserve her happy memories of him.”

“But now she kens the truth, aye?” Gunn asked.

Malcolm shrugged. He hadn’t stuck around long enough to see how they handled the situation. For all he kenned, she still thought Angus was a hero.

“So certainly she understands that ’tis no’ ye that killed him,” Gunn pressed. When Malcolm remained silent, he pushed. “Well?”

Malcolm shrugged. “I dinna ken.”

“What do ye mean?”

“I left. I didn’t want to break her heart. Or face the contempt on her face when she learned the truth.”

“Ye ran?” Alexander asked incredulously.

As he should. Malcolm had never run from anything. Ever.

Until now.

He could only nod.

“Are ye daft? What were ye thinking?”

He leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands. “I was thinking that I was saving her heart. Because clearly, I broke it by condemning her brother to death.”

Finlay left the room. He was probably disappointed in the man Malcolm had become and couldn’t stand to look upon him anymore.

He couldn’t blame him. He couldn’t stand himself either.

“So, to save her heart, ye broke yours? Without kenning if ye would have lost her in the first place.” Alexander shook his head. “If Clarissa were here,” he said, referring to his wife, “she’d box your ears for your stupidity.”

“Ye love her?” Gunn asked.

If Malcolm was alone he would have probably cried. Aye, he loved her. So verra much. “With all my heart. I canna see my life without her.”

“That’s all we needed to ken.”

“What?”

“All set in here,” Finlay called from somewhere down the hall.

“Brother,” Gunn uttered as he approached and yanked him to his unsteady feet, “’tis time to get yourself together.”

Alexander grabbed his other arm and they hauled him out the door and down the hall. Into the bathing room where the tub had been filled with hot, steaming water.

“Ye need to sober up and clean up. And then get your mind out of whatever stupor it’s in and go get your woman.”

“She doesna want me.”

“That’s bullshite, and ye ken it.”

When he didn’t make a move to undress, his friend stepped forward and started the process.

“Hey, hey!” Malcolm called out. “Cease!”

“Then do it yourself or I swear I will strip you to your bare arse and throw ye in the tub myself,” Gunn warned.

Malcolm had no doubt he could. His friend was huge. Broad as a barn. He owned an inn and a pub, and he himself saw to it that no trouble ever broke out.

“Fine. Get out,” he grumbled, tugging off his shirt.

“We’ll wait for ye in your study.”

And that’s where they were once he’d finished bathing and dressing in a clean set of clothes. He did feel better, but he wasn’t about to admit it to his friends.

“Well, well, well,” Alexander quipped, sniffing the air. “Look who no longer appears to be on the verge of death and no longer reeks like a distillery.”

“Have ye cleared your head?” Finlay asked.

His head pounded as if it were being constantly struck by a rock, but his thoughts were clear. He nodded.

“So, what’s your plan? Are ye going to stay here feeling sorry for yourself or are ye going to go to your lady?”

His friends were right. Could Lizzie blame him? Possibly. But he would never ken unless he confronted her. Could she turn him away and tell him that she never wanted to lay eyes upon him again?

She could. And it would shatter his already broken heart, but at least he would ken the truth. Her true feelings.

He wouldn’t be left wondering if he’d missed the opportunity to spend the rest of his life with the woman of his dreams.

“I need my horse,” he announced.

“Atta boy,” Alexander pounded him on his back. “We kenned ye’d come around.”

“And he’s saddled up and waiting for ye,” Finlay said with a smile.

“Go get her, brother. It will all work out in the end.” Gunn smacked him on the back.

“Thank ye,” Malcolm said quietly, heading toward the door. “If ye hadn’t pushed me, I’d still be drowning my sorrows. I may still once I talk to Lizzie. But at least I will ken for certain the reason why.”

With that, he slipped out the door, his friends hooting and hollering as they cheered him on. Their loud yells made his head hurt even more, but he didn’t care. As always, his friends had come through for him. Giving him the push that he kenned he needed to take but hadn’t dared.

He only hoped and prayed he wasn’t too late.

And that Lizzie wouldn’t turn him away.

*

“I need to see him, Mary,” Lizzie groaned as she lay on her bed staring at the ceiling. The same thing she’d done almost every day since Malcolm had left.

He had taken over her mind, her thoughts. Every waking moment she thought about him. Every sleeping moment she dreamed about him.

“Miss,” Lizzie warned, “your parents willna allow it. Not after the last time that started this whole mess in the first place.”

“Do ye think he loves me?” she asked, changing the subject. She didn’t ken why she asked Mary the question. She already kenned the answer, but it was as if she were searching for validation from someone other than herself. She certainly couldn’t go to her parents and ask such a question.

Mary looked at her, sympathy shining in her eyes. “I cannot speak for the earl, Miss. But he seemed verra taken with ye before,” she paused searching for the right words, “before e’erything came to light.

Relations between them had been filled with tension after she’d found out the truth about Angus. She couldn’t believe they’d lied to her all this time. She felt like a fool. And she was still angry with them. It would have been so much easier if they’d told her what really happened surrounding his death.

Their lies forced Malcolm to leave. Above all else, that was what really angered her.

They’d made her lose the one thing that held her heart.

Her now shattered heart.

She wanted to put the pieces back together and the only way she could do that would be to see Malcolm. She had to ask him if he loved her. She sighed. She kenned he did, but she wanted to hear the words from his beautiful, full lips. And then she wanted to feel his strong arms wrap her in an embrace as he whispered to her that he was never going to leave her again.

Probably the dreams and whims of a young lass.

But the only way to find out was to ask him. She needed to find a way to go to him.

She sat up, bringing her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them as she thought.

“Rosalyn lives no’ far from here,” she stated suddenly.

“Your friend from years ago?”

Lizzie nodded her head. “Aye. She’s near, but no’ too near. I could tell Mama and Papa that I need to clear my head. Get out of the house and talk to someone near my age that may understand what I’m going through. Surely, they’ll agree.”

“Miss, I am no’ certain that is the best of ideas. Does she still live there with her parents?”

“I believe so, I havena heard that she’s married and moved away.”

“Do ye think she will see ye?”

Lizzie laughed. “Mary, sometimes ye are so silly. I have no intentions of actually going to visit her. I will use that as an excuse to get us out of the house. Once out, we will make our way to Culzean.”

“Nay, absolutely no’.” Mary shook her head vehemently. “One time was enough. I nearly lost my job, if ye recall.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Ye didna. I would no’ allow that to happen, and ye ken it. From the get go, I told my parents that ye were only doing what I told ye to do. The same will apply here.”

“I canna condone such a plan, Miss.”

“Ye dinna have to, Mary.” She pushed off the bed and walked over to her wardrobe, swinging the doors open wide. “Now, come help me pick a few appropriate outfits so that we can be on our way as soon as I convince my parents that I need to talk to someone my own age.”

It was Mary’s turn to roll her eyes. “Ye are stubborn, Miss.” But she joined Lizzie at the wardrobe, and in no time, her travel bag was packed.

Downstairs, she found papa reading his Paper and Mama putting the final touches on her current needlepoint project. They both looked up when she entered the room, and it was as if all the warmth had suddenly been sucked out of the room.

“Mama, Papa,” she announced, “I would like to visit Rosalyn for a few days.”

Her parents exchanged a look. One that told Lizzie they kenned that she was about to feed them a story.

No matter. She ignored their look and plodded on. “The house is too stuffy. I have all these thoughts running through my head. All these feelings, that quite frankly, I am still confused about. I think it would do me well to be around a peer that can understand what I am going through. Certainly, ye can agree?”

For some odd reason, her mother’s mouth turned up into a slight smile, before sharing a knowing look with her father, who nodded his head.

“How long will ye be gone. Or do ye expect to be gone?” Mama asked.

Lizzie was taken aback. Was she not going to have to fight to get them to let her out of the house? This was a most welcome turn of events.

“I hadna thought of the amount of time needed to clear my head. But I think I would need,” she quickly calculated how quickly she could make the trip to Edinburgh and back if she pushed, “a week, at least.”

“Well, that certainly is a lot of time to catch up with an old friend and to discuss whatever else ye need to. I am sure Rosalyn and her family will be happy to see ye.”

“Thank ye.” It was all she could think to say after not having to fight for it.

“Ye will be taking Mary?”

“Aye, of course.”

“Verra well. We will have the phaeton readied for ye.”

“Really?” Now she was beyond flabbergasted. Mayhap they had grown tired of her dourness and just wanted her out of the house for a reprieve. She could understand that.

“Aye, we canna have ye traipsing through the countryside alone on a horse with Mary. Take the carriage and a coachman so you’ll be comfortable on the journey.”

Her parents were being far too gracious. But, in doing so they were allowing her to make her way to Edinburgh without so much as a fight. She wasn’t going to complain or push back.

After securing her travel bag to the back of the phaeton, she turned to her parents, who had come outside to see her off.

“I understand that I have been in a sour mood these past few weeks. I apologize for that. My heart was broken, then broken again, and is still broken. I hope to return with naught but happiness.”

Mama pursed her lips and nodded, then gave Lizzie a warm hug. “Be careful,” she whispered in her ear.

“The journey to Rosalyn’s isna far, Mama. All will be well.”

She climbed into the carriage, Mary following closely behind. Once the door was shut and the coachman climbed into his spot, snapping the reins for the horses to start the journey, she looked through the window and gave her parents a wave.

They waved back, smiling warmly.

Again, she found their behavior odd. Were they really that happy to see her go?

Once they were well and good out of sight and earshot from Tolton Hall, Lizzie knocked on the wall of the carriage to alert the driver.

“Aye, Miss?”

“Change of plans,” she called out. “We shall travel to Culzean Castle. Make haste, please.”

“Aye, Miss.” And she heard the snap of the reins and the neigh of the horses as they began to trot.

She narrowed her eyes, somehow, this all seemed too easy. Too convenient.

“What is wrong, Miss?”

“Did Mama and Papa seem a wee bit too eager to see me gone? And why the offer of the carriage? The ride to Rosalyn’s isna far.” She pointed to the front of the carriage. “And no fight from him about the change in destination? It all strikes me as odd.”

“I dinna ken, Miss. Mayhap, they are just eager to see ye happy again?”

Lizzie wasn’t sure if that was their reasoning, but she sat back and watched the trees pass through the window. She wouldn’t complain about their offer of comfort on this journey.

She remained quiet. Her mind running through all of the things she would say to Malcolm when she saw him.

There was always the possibility he would turn her away. That she would arrive on the steps of Culzean and he wouldn’t let her in the door.

She prayed that he would agree to see her.

He had to.

She needed to tell him that she loved him.

If he refused?

Well, she wouldn’t accept that as an option.

*

Malcolm had been riding for two days straight. He was exhausted, bone-weary. His poor horse even moreso.

He’d only stopped in short bursts to allow the horse to rest and drink. He’d feed him an oatcake and then after a brief respite, they’d be back on their way.

He was so close to Tolton Hall. Less than a day’s ride now, but his horse needed caring. And as the inn that he’d spent the night with Lizzie in what seemed forever ago came into view, he kenned he had to stop.

As anxious as he was to see her, he didn’t want to arrive on her doorstep smelling of sweat and horse, with the dirt of the road upon his clothes. Nay, he wanted to appear fresh and clean, so he could wrap his arms around her and feel her bury her face into his chest.

He closed his eyes, seeing the scene play out in his mind. It was all he wanted. Mayhap a boyhood fantasy, but he’d had a lot of time to think on this journey.

The love that he felt for Lizzie was true. Now that the pounding ache in his head had ceased, he had thought about how he would explain his actions. Actions regarding her brother. His leaving in the early hours of the morn.

He worried that she felt he’d abandoned her. That wasn’t his intention, but he could see how his actions could have been construed as such.

The inn loomed ahead, and he clicked his tongue to get his horse to slow to a stop. A lad grabbed the reins as he hopped off and Malcolm placed a shilling in his hand. “We’ve had a long journey. He needs food, water, rest, and a good brushing. Care for him well.” He untied his travel bag and threw it over his shoulder.

“Aye, my lord,” the lad answered as he led the horse around the back. “I will see to him personally.”

Malcolm paused in front of the door, looking up at the facade of the inn. Remembering when he was here last.

Soon. Soon, he would see her again. It had been weeks, one more night wouldn’t make a difference. That’s what he kept telling himself when all he wanted to do was push forward.

Inside, the innkeeper’s face broke out into a smile of recognition. “My lord, welcome back. Are ye here for a meal or do ye need a room as well.”

“A room, please. Along with a hot bath.” He almost asked for a bottle of whisky, but then thought better of it. He wanted his head to remain clear. And ache-less.

“Certainly, follow me.”

An hour later, he was soaking his sore muscles in steaming water scented with rosemary. He sighed. The hot water felt amazing, and he could feel his tense muscles relaxing under the heat. The only thing that would make this better was to have Lizzie soaking in the tub with him.

Her naked skin pressed up against his. He groaned. He’d wash her hair, massaging her scalp as he worked his fingers through her long tresses.

He’d wash every inch of her body, running the cloth along her smooth skin. Another groan and his cock jumped to life, standing at attention in the water.

Fighting the urge to fist his length and grant him the relief he so desperately needed, he stepped out of the bath and dried off with the towel that had been hung over the back of the chair.

The bed in the room looked too large and lonely for him to share by himself. An image of Lizzie laying there, her dark hair splayed in contrast to the white sheets, as she looked up at him longingly.

“Shite,” he cursed to the empty room, pushing his hands through his damp hair.

He really was obsessed.

Thoughts about his arrival at Tolton Hall entered his mind. Would the Barclays even allow him entry? He hoped, dared to think so.

But he didn’t want to just to be allowed entry. Nay, he needed to speak with Lizzie. And if she would have him, he would propose.

Because these past few weeks had been the most insufferable weeks he’d ever had to endure. Worse than the war.

He’d felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and he needed the feeling to stop.

His only salvation would be if Lizzie forgave him and accepted his hand in marriage. Only then would the world be put back to rights.

Sitting down at the small desk set near the window, he reached for the ink and paper he’d called for earlier.

Lizzie was one thing. The Barclays were another.

He could only hope his words of solace and apology would be enough for them to accept him and allow him to wed their daughter—if she was willing, of course.

Folding and sealing the letter, he addressed it to the Barclays and brought it downstairs to the innkeeper, who assured him that it would be delivered expeditiously.

“Will ye have guests joining ye for dinner at your table, my lord?”

He shook his head. “I willnae. I must sadly admit, this journey is one I am making alone. But I do hope that the return journey will be different.”

“Och, best wishes to ye, my lord,” the innkeeper said excitedly. “Dinner will be served within the hour. If ye would like to wait in the salon, there are libations for all tastes there.”

Not wanting to go back and face the empty room, he made his way to the salon, but denied any offering of drink. He didn’t care to repeat the indulgences of the past few weeks and he wanted to ensure that he kept his head clear for his meeting with Lizzie. Instead, he picked up one of the papers piled on a corner table and read of the local news while he waited.

There wasn’t much of interest. A new estate was being built. A barn had burned down. Sadly, the owners had lost a hog. Incredibly, another Phantom Prowler burglary. He couldn’t help but smile, kenning who it truly was now, thanks to Lizzie.

A bell chimed making him aware that dinner would soon be served. Folding the paper, he placed it back on the stack and made his way to the dining hall.

“Malcolm?”

He heard his name being called, the voice soft with a tinge of disbelief. But he kenned that voice. Had longed to hear it for weeks. Could it be?

He spun around, and standing in front of him was the most beautiful visage he could ever imagine.

Lizzie.

It all happened so fast. One moment she was standing there, and the next she was running towards his opened arms.

He scooped her up, burying his nose in her lavender-scented hair, and his body roared to life as his heart mended itself back together.

She cried as she clung to his neck, placing kisses on his cheek as she wrapped her legs around him. Having not a care in the world of who was watching.

“What are ye doing here, Lass?”

“I should ask the same of ye.”

He set her down and looked around them. Thankfully, the place was empty save for Mary who hung back silently.

“I was coming back to find ye. To explain—”

“Ye dinna need to explain.” She clasped his hand and held it tightly. “I understand.”

Two simple words, but they meant so much to him. Hope bloomed anew in his chest. Mayhap this would all work out. Just as his friends insisted.

Remembering his manners after being so stunned at seeing her, he asked, “Have ye eaten?”

She shook her head.

“Join me for dinner?”

“I would love that.” She accepted his arm and blessed him with the most beautiful smile.

*

Malcolm looked so nervous as he pulled out the chair at the table to allow Lizzie to sit. She would have sworn she saw his hands shaking.

They waited until wine had been poured into each of their glasses and the meal had been served to speak.

She was telling the truth when she’d answered that she hadn’t eaten, but she had no appetite. Not for food anyway.

Watching the server walk away, Lizzie sipped her wine, trying to remember all the things she had said she would ask him when she saw him, but her mind drew a blank.

“I canna believe ye are sitting in front of me,” she finally said, her voice laced with disbelief. “What are the odds that we stopped at the same inn at the same time?”

“Apparently one hundred percent,” he answered, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

She giggled. “I suppose ye are right. I say it must be fate.”

“I am no’ so sure I believe in fate.” He took a small sip of wine and she watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in the most fascinating way.

“If no’ fate, then what?” she asked, curious of his answer.

“I dinna ken. Luck, which I guess one could chock up to fate. I just ken that I willed this meeting. I played it o’er and o’er again in my mind. I didna ken where. Or when. But I kenned ’twould happen.”

He reached over and gently held her hand, his thumb idly caressing her fingers.

Frissons ran up her arm, causing her to shiver.

His brows creased in concern. “Are ye chilled?” He moved to get up. No doubt to find her something to guard against the chill.

“Nay, I am fine, thank ye. I must confess that I also wished for us to meet. I thought ’twould be at Culzean, though.”

“Ye were traveling to Culzean?” he asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

She nodded.

“Alone?”

“Nay, Mary is with me.” She stated, confused as she knew he had seen her maid earlier.

Narrowing his eyes, he searched her face. “Isna that how we first met? Ye traveling alone with just your maid? Wait. Do your parents ken ye are traveling?”

“Aye.”

Relief washed over him.

“And nay.”

His shoulders collapsed and he hung his head for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “Lass, will ye ne’er learn? ’Tis dangerous for ye to travel alone.”

“Mama and Papa believe I am visiting a friend nearby. Howe’er, out of character for them, they offered the phaeton and a coachman for the trip.”

“For your safety?”

She shrugged. “Mayhap. Things have been,” she paused, searching for the right words, “things have been strained since, well, ye ken.”

“Lass.” He squeezed her fingers, as if trying to send all of his emotions through his hand to her. “I—”

Shaking her head, she pulled her hand back, and tucked a loose wisp of hair behind her ear, then folded her hands on her lap.

“The tension at Tolton Hall has naught to do with ye.”

He didn’t look convinced as he opened his mouth to say something.

“Dinna speak, please. Let me say what I have to say.”

She could see the muscle in his jaw clench, but he remained silent, nodding for her to continue. That he listened and granted her what she asked, meant so much to her. It showed that he respected her.

“When I woke up that morning, I went downstairs to break my fast, expecting ye to be there along with Mama and Papa. I was determined to get to the bottom of whate’er ’twas that ye had alluded to the night before. When ye werena there, I just figured ye were sleeping in.

“Papa told me to have a seat, and that’s when I learned the truth about Angus.”

A pained look crossed his face and she hurried to reassure him.

“I dinna blame ye, Malcolm. I need ye to understand that. The tension at home was my fault, but ’twas because I was angry at my parents. I was so verra angry that they had lied to me all those years. It explained why they’d ne’er spoken about my brother after his death. They told me he’d died a hero, and then no other conversations were e’er had. Any time I tried to initiate one, they dodged the subject.” She paused and took a long swallow of wine.

“’Twas kind of them to try to protect the memories I had of Angus, but I felt like a fool. Walking around all these years thinking he was the bravest man. When he was in fact the opposite. So, nay, I dinna blame ye for the cause of his death. He brought that all on himself. He kenned the risks, and yet he still moved forward with whate’er reprehensible plan he had formed in his mind.”

“’Twas still your brother,” he said quietly, his voice solemn and laced with guilt.

Guilt that he shouldn’t feel.

“He was. But whoe’er he became during the war,” she shook her head, “that person wasna my brother. I will fore’er cherish the memories we made when we were younger. But my memories stop when he left for the war. I refuse to think of him as the traitor I now ken he became.”

“Ye are verra strong, Lass.”

She laughed, twirling the stem of her wine glass. “I dinna ken about that. If I were strong, I would be able to deal with his betrayal. But I canna.”

“’Twill take time.”

“Mayhap. But what I do ken is ye.” She reached out to him and he grasped her hand, his fingers once again caressing her skin. “Ye were doing naught but your job. And from what I was told, ’twas a job ye excelled at. Your name is kenned amongst the highest rankings of officers.” She swore she could see a bit of pink color his cheeks at the compliment.

“I did what I had to do for my crown and country. I completed my missions as assigned. I am just so verra sorry that ’twas your brother. He was the last person I expected to catch that fateful night. Until then I had thought he was loyal to me and my unit.”

Malcolm’s eyes were so serious. She kenned he was speaking from his heart, and she appreciated the truth in his words.

“I can only hope that ye take such good care of me,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze with a seriousness of her own.

He searched her face. She watched the emotions play across his as he pondered her words, then watched as his eyes lit up as awareness dawned.

“Are ye saying…” He let the words trail off.

She wasn’t sure if it was because he was scared to voice them aloud, but she was sure of what she wanted. Placing her other hand on their clasped ones, she squeezed.

“What I am saying Malcolm Kennedy, Earl of Cassilis, is that I believe ye should marry me.”