Chapter Twenty

I t was the most unconventional proposal that Malcolm had ever heard, but it was also the most endearing and sincere.

“Are ye asking me to marry ye, Lass?” He lifted a brow in question.

She tilted her head to the side, the most beautiful smile on her face. “Indeed I am.”

“Well, in that case, Annabel Elizabeth Barclay, indeed I will.”

Before he could comprehend what she was doing, she launched herself from her chair and closed her arms around his neck. The clatter of dishes captured everyone’s attention, and they all stared at them, as he wrapped his arms around her waist and settled her in his lap.

He didn’t care. They could stare all they want. Including when he bent and captured her mouth in a searing kiss.

She matched his energy and when he licked the seam of her lips, she opened her mouth, allowing him entry. Their tongues danced together wickedly, and he groaned into her mouth. He heard the low murmur of people in the room, but no amount of talk about impropriety would take away from this moment he and Lizzie were sharing.

“I canna wait to make ye Lady Cassilis,” he murmured against her neck.

She giggled in response, also ignoring those around them.

“Lord Kennedy,” the innkeeper appeared at the table. “Pardon for the intrusion, but I couldna help but hear the news. Congratulations on your engagement.” A server approached the table with a tray and the innkeeper picked up the bottle atop it. “A bottle of our verra best champagne for ye both to celebrate.”

Malcolm smiled warmly and bowed his head. “Thank ye. ’Tis most kind of ye to do so.”

“May I?” The man pointed to the bottle and Malcolm nodded.

“Please.”

With that, he uncorked the bottle with a pop, and now that the room understood what was happening, everyone cheered.

He kissed her cheek, which was warm under his lips. “I love ye, lass.”

“And I ye, Malcolm. I think I’ve loved ye since I first saw ye at the Wilsons’ party.”

They accepted the glasses of champagne that the innkeeper passed to them, and with a cheer to their future, they sipped the bubbly liquid, laughing as the bubbles tickled their noses.

Later, as he escorted Lizzie to her room, he paused, his hands on her waist, not wanting to let her go.

“Now that I’ve got ye, I dinna want to take my hands off ye,” he confessed.

She tipped her head up to his, her brown eyes clashing with his. “Then dinna,” she whispered, lifting on her toes and nipping at his lower lip.

The sensation and her words went straight to his cock. He pulled her flush to him and he kenned she could feel his hard length.

Her eyes flared wide and she raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“We arena married yet, Lass.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Doesna matter. We will be.”

He glanced over her shoulder at Mary, who, as always, hung back far enough to not interrupt, but still made her presence known.

Saint’s above he wanted to take Lizzie up on her offer. He’d been thinking about losing himself in her softness all night. He didn’t think his body could hold off much longer.

“What of Mary?”

“She can stay in the room I rented for her and I. And I…” She walked her fingers up his chest and he swore he never felt anything more erotic. “I can go to your room with ye.”

Emotions warred within him. He kenned he shouldn’t. Not until they were married. He should be a reputable man and hustle her inside her room and retire to his own for the night. But Hell’s teeth, he didn’t have the willpower to deny her. Not when she looked up at him with those big brown eyes burning bright for him.

But the choice was still hers. He would not force her into doing something she did not want to do. He refused to pressure her. Such an act would not be in his nature.

Nay, he would offer her an exit clause, just in case she was only telling him what she thought he wanted to hear because he was standing right in front of her.

He pushed open the door to her room and tilted his head. “Go on inside, Lass.”

Confusion marred her face, and she looked crestfallen. Dejected.

With a finger under her chin, he lifted her face to his. “Dinna fash. Ye control your fate. Speak with Mary. Think on what ye really want. The choice is yours and there is no right or wrong answer. Whate’er ye decide, I will abide by and ’twillna change my feelings. If ye still want to spend the night in my bed, come to room 11. But remember, only if ye are sure. Because I guarantee ye, if ye show up at my door, I dinna think I will e’er be able to let ye go.”

He bent and kissed her forehead. “Now go. And if I dinna see ye later, I bid ye good night and will see ye in the morn.”

Turning on his heel, he made his way up the stairs to his own room. Sitting on the bed, he cradled his head in his hands and blew out a steadying breath. Not daring to hope that he would get a knock on his door.

His luck had already blessed him ten-fold today with everything that had happened. He’d be a fool to think his streak would continue through the night.

And he wasn’t mad about that. Nay. If Lizzie wanted to wait until their wedding night, he had no qualms about that. As he’d told her the choice was hers and he wouldn’t push her one way or another.

He was still sitting on the bed, contemplating all the events of the day, when the slightest knock sounded.

His breath caught in his throat.

Was it Lizzie?

Were the saints again blessing him on this day? He stood and pushed his hands through his hair and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly, trying to calm his racing heart.

The knock came again. A little louder this time.

Hurrying to the door, he swung it open, and his heart melted at the sight standing before him.

There Lizzie stood, in her night dress and robe. But the ties of her robe hung at her sides, allowing him to see the outline of curves through the thin material of her night dress.

A moan escaped his lips, and she smiled.

Before he allowed her entry, he needed one more confirmation. Just as much for him as for her.

“Are ye sure, Lass?” he whispered.

She nodded, licking her lips. “I have ne’er been more sure of aught in my life.”

That was all he needed to hear.

Grasping her hand, he pulled her inside the room, flush against his chest and kicked the door shut with his boot and crushed his mouth down on hers in a searing kiss that let her ken there was no going back now. Before this night was over she would be claimed as his in the most intimate way possible.

Her hands snaked around his neck, and he was frustrated at the barrier of material stopping him from feeling the crush of her breasts against his chest.

Breaking the kiss, he shrugged out of his jacket, then loosened his cravat and threw it the floor. His shirt followed, and he smiled proudly at her rounded eyes. She reached out tenderly and palmed his chest, running her hands up and down his skin. Over the ridge of muscles of his abdomen.

He sucked in a breath and blew it out in a hiss.

“Ye are wicked, Lass,” he taunted.

She looked concerned.

“In the best of ways,” he quickly added, cradling her face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs along her cheeks. He dipped his head and captured her mouth once again, dropping his hands to the curve of her buttocks and pulled her closer, reveling in her nearness. The feel of her ample breasts against his chest.

Without breaking the kiss, he walked her back to the bed. Once there, he stepped back, enjoying the sight of her. He caressed her cheek, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. She bit her lip, and it was one of the sexiest things he’d ever witnessed. He hooked the collar of her robe and slid it down her slender arms and marveled at the way her skin pebbled as it was exposed to the air.

And to him.

He bent and grasped the hem of her night dress. Looking into her eyes, he couldn’t help but ask one last time. “Ye sure?”

“I have ne’er wanted aught more.”

He lifted the gossamer material, slowly exposing the pale skin of her thighs, and then her mound. Her flat stomach, and finally her ample breasts. Her rosy nipples were hard, jutting out to him. Calling to him. He couldn’t wait to suck them into his mouth.

Pulling the garment over her head, he let it fall to the floor and he gazed upon the goddess standing before him. She met his eyes, and hers were dark with passion, as she stood proudly, letting him drink in the image of her.

She made no move to hide herself from his gaze, and he found that so enticing.

“Sit on the edge of the bed, Lass,” he ordered gently and she complied without question.

He bent, boxing her in with his arms at her sides and captured her mouth once again, as he gently pushed her to lay back. When she had sunk into the mattress, her legs dangling off the side, he moved to his knees. Grasping her right ankle, he kissed the sensitive skin on the inside of her ankle, trailing his lips up the inside of her leg, until he was at the apex of her thighs.

Her scent infiltrated his senses, driving him mad with need. He had to fight the urge to plunge himself into her slick wetness. He could see her arousal dripping from the seam of her nether lips. He draped her leg over his shoulder, and then did the same with her left.

Then he settled in for the best meal of his life. Blowing on the damp curls, he smiled as she wriggled her bottom. When he darted his tongue out and ran it along her wet seam, she gave a squeal of surprise, and her hands fisted the duvet.

She tasted divine. Like heaven itself had been laid out before him to feast upon. He licked up and down her folds and then suckled the bud of nerves and she bucked her hips off the bed.

“Malcolm,” she gasped, and he smiled against her.

Sinking a finger into her soft folds, he took his time letting her get adjusted to the sensation, slowly dragging his finger in and out, and when her juices flooded his hand, he added a second finger, and then another.

Lizzie moved her hands to his head, fisting his hair, as she tried to pull him even closer.

He smiled at her passion.

When her hips undulated, matching the rhythm of his strokes, he kenned she was ready for him. He stood, and she cried out.

“Nay!”

He bent and kissed her lips, kenning she could taste herself. “Dinna fash, lass. I need to get out of my breeches.”

She sat up to lean on her elbows and licked her lips as she watched him unfasten his breeches and slide them down his legs. Her eyes rounded as his cock jutted straight forward, hard as stone, and her tongue peaked out through her lips.

Kicking off his pants, he dropped on the bed beside her and pulled her close as he settled them in the middle of the bed. He brushed her mussed hair from her flushed cheeks.

She trailed her hand down his chest, down the muscles of his stomach, through the nestle of curls. He snatched her hand to stop her from going any further for fear of spending himself right then and there. He was so close to the edge. It wouldn’t take much to send him toppling over. And her hand around his cock would surely drive him mad.

“Ye ready?” he asked.

She nodded, as he moved on top of her and settled between her thighs, his cock resting at her entrance.

“Ye will feel a pinch, but I’ll do my best to make it as painless as possible, love.”

She nodded, lifting her head to capture his mouth in a kiss.

He took the opportunity of that distraction and plunged inside, breaking her barrier. He felt her cry against his mouth, and he stilled his hips, allowing her to adjust to him. He continued to kiss her, then moved his lips to her neck, and nuzzled her there, then her left breast and took the turgid nipple into his mouth, suckling it until she cried out his name on a sigh, and began to move her hips.

Used to the sensation of him, he pulled his hips back, then pressed forward slowly, and was blessed with the most beautiful moan. He wanted to hear that moan for the rest of his life.

He continued pumping his hips slow, though he wanted naught more than to drive himself to the hilt into her over and over. But that was for another time.

He was so close to spending himself and was thankful when her hips began to move faster. Her hands dropped to his buttocks, pushing him forward.

“What do ye want, Lass?”

Confusion marred her face. “I, I dinna ken. I want…more? I dinna ken. I feel—”

He pushed forward, burying himself deep.

“Ah,” she sighed. “More, more of that.”

He repeated the move a few times and her moans grew. Her skin heated as she squeezed her eyes shut. “There’s something happening. Something building,” she whispered, her voice a mix of confusion and awe.

Reaching down between them, he circled her bud of pleasure, adding an amount of pressure to the circles, and that was all it took. Underneath him her body stiffened, around his cock, her sex milked him. He pumped harder, and her fingernails scored his back as she called his name.

Unable to hold back any longer, he thrust deep a final time, and reached his own climax in a sea of stars behind his eyes as he stiffened and emptied his seed into her, his body convulsing with each jet of his release.

Their breaths coming in short gasps, he kissed her lips on a smile and rolled over, dragging her with him.

Tucking her head beneath his chin, he kissed her forehead.

“How do ye feel, Lass?”

“Wonderful,” she answered, her voice soft and sleepy.

“Any regrets?”

“Nay.” He felt her shake her head against his chest, then placed a kiss over his heart.

“Good. I love ye, Lass,” he whispered into her hair.

“I love ye, Malcolm,” she whispered back, her palm splayed across his heart and yawned.

“Sleep, love,” he ordered gently. “We’ve a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

*

Lizzie woke in the early hours of the morning, the room was still dark, and Malcolm slept soundly beside her.

At some point he’d settled them under the covers, and she was snuggled with her back spooned to his front.

She felt sore, but in the best of ways. She had heard about sex in snippets she’d caught of conversations, but she never once thought it would be as amazing as what she and Malcolm had shared last night.

Wriggling her butt, she could feel Malcolm’s hardness against the back of her thighs.

“Lass,” he murmured. “If ye dinna cease your movement, I will have to love ye again,” he said sleepily.

“Oh?” She kind of liked that idea, so she wriggled her butt again, pushing it back so there was no way he could not feel her.

With a growl, he pulled her even closer and nipped at her neck.

She squealed in delight and then moaned as he entered her from this angle, thrusting his hips into her from behind.

“Oh,” she said again, but this time it was from the sensations this angle was eliciting. It was so different from last night, but just as enticing.

He sucked her lobe into his mouth, and she moaned. Her nerves felt as if they were on fire. With every push of Malcolm’s hips, the fire grew. Forming in her belly, and growing, until it became a fireball that she couldn’t contain. It consumed her, and when his hand snaked between them, through her nestle of curls to make circular motions on the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, she lost all control of her body.

Her limbs stiffened, her belly contracted, as tremors wracked her body, and colors burst in her eyes.

Behind her, Malcolm quickened his pace, and soon he was crushing her to him, calling out her name in a guttural voice that seemed divinely primal, and shuddered uncontrollably behind her as he thrust as deep as he could.

She grasped his fingers, kissing each one, as they let their shudders subside.

When she could speak, she broke the silence. “I want to wake up like that every morn.”

Behind her, Malcolm’s chest rumbled with laughter. “If that is what ye wish for, I will be sure to make that happen.” He buried his face in her neck, and frissons shot up and down her body.

Laying in the warmth of Malcolm’s strong arms, the steady staccato of his heartbeat vibrating against her back, her eyelids soon grew heavy and she drifted off to sleep once again.

When she woke, a tray of tea and scones was set beside her on the bed, and Malcolm was dressed, reading a paper in the chair, his legs crossed.

Hearing her stir, he put down the paper and smiled warmly. “Good morn.”

She sat up, stretching her arms, but being careful not to spill the pot of tea beside her. “To ye, as well.” She poured a cup of tea, adding a cube of sugar and bit into a buttery scone. “What is the plan for today?”

The seriousness of their activities of the past night flooded her mind.

“We go to Tolton Hall. And I will officially ask for your hand in marriage. Unless of course, ye’ve changed your mind.”

“Absolutely no’!” She said vehemently. “I canna wait to be your wife.”

He walked over to her, bent and placed a kiss on her forehead. “And I canna wait to be your husband. Now, eat up. Mary has your bag packed and ready to go and dropped off a gown for ye.”

“I am impressed. Ye have thought of e’erything.”

“Well, I clearly couldna have ye running around in your night clothes,” he chuckled.

Later, when they’d arrived back at Tolton Hall, and Papa gave his overzealous approval of their marriage, Lizzie learned that Mama kenned she had no intention of visiting Rosalyn.

“Please, Lizzie. Ye forget I am your mother. ’Twas no’ that long ago that ye told us ye were going to visit a friend, only to be caught by Malcolm. And ye canna tell me there was no spark or feelings there. They were apparent to a blind man.”

Papa chuckled. “Your mother has a well-made point.”

“Ye had been miserable since Malcolm left. Did ye think I didna realize that ye were spending that whole time plotting how to get to back to him? ’Twas just a matter of time until ye contrived your plan and approached us with it.”

Wow, her parents had read her like a book. “That’s why ye gave me the phaeton. And the coachman.”

“Aye, and when you got down the road, he kenned ye were going to switch destinations. He was there to ensure ye were safe.”

Beside her, Malcolm guffawed. “It looks like your parents had your plan figured out as if they’d come up with it themselves.”

“Apparently.”

“Well,” Mama said, clapping her hands, “if ye gentlemen will excuse us. We’ve a wedding to plan.”

*

Two months later

Surrounded by family and friends, which included Malcolm’s best friends and all their wives, save for Gunn, who somehow, was still single, she and Malcolm pledged their vows to each other.

The party that followed was the talk of the town, and when they left for Culzean Castle, they were given a grand send off.

They waved at everyone as they left. Mary had already made the journey to Culzean. She would stay in her position as Lizzie’s maid.

Lizzie snuggled into Malcolm’s side. His arm was draped around her, and his lips lingered on her hairline.

“Do ye remember when we were first journeying to Tolton Hall so I could prove my innocence?” she asked.

“Aye.”

“And ye told me that ye belonged to no one. That ye were nobody’s man?”

“Aye,” he said again.

“I guess I proved ye wrong,” she said smugly. “Because obviously, ye are my man.”

He growled and nipped at her ear.

Then in a flash, he was kneeling in front of her, lifting her skirts.

He waggled his eyebrows. “Have I e’er shown ye how much fun a carriage ride can be?”

“Ye ken ye havena.”

“Well, then. Time to rectify that, I’d say.”

His head disappeared under her skirts and his mouth found her core.

She threw her head back with a sigh. Enjoying the ride in more ways than one.