Chapter Four

M alcolm pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered what the hell he had just gotten himself into. He was talking to the viscount when a commotion in the corridor had caught their attention. They rushed out only to find Lizzie being helped up to her feet.

From what he’d been told, she’d fainted.

With an explanation of chivalry, he’d told the viscount that he would escort the lass home to ensure her safety.

Happy with that, the viscount bid him goodnight and returned to the ballroom.

Bother, that’s what the lass was. Again, what had he gotten himself into?

Now, he waited outside the inn she and her maid were staying in whilst they visited Twynholm as they packed their things so they could begin their journey to Stonehaven. He had allowed them to sleep at the inn once he’d seen them back after the party. It made no sense to begin their travels at night. The roads were far too dangerous. He would have enough difficulty trying to get them to their destination in the light of day. There was no reason to make even more trouble for himself.

He supposed all wasn’t lost. He’d been looking for excitement and he had found it.

Pulling his pocket watch from his jacket, he flipped the lid open and checked the time. The two women had been inside for longer than he deemed necessary.

He shook his head and clenched his jaw. The lass was going to test his every nerve. He could see it.

Stuffing the watch back into his pocket, he pushed off the carriage he’d been leaning against and made his way inside. He was getting ready to ring the bell to call for the innkeeper when commotion from the stairs caught his attention.

Lizzie, her maid close on her heels, descended the stairs as she spoke over her shoulder. “I dinna ken what he thinks will happen—”

“Miss!” Her maid snapped, nodding toward Malcolm.

Lizzie’s head snapped to him, her mouth open in surprise, and missing the next step, she lost her footing.

As she began to tumble down, Malcolm rushed forward, catching her in his arms before she could crash onto the floor.

She slapped at his chest. “My lord. Please. Put me down at once. I insist.”

He snapped his mouth shut to prevent him from saying something he would regret later and instead set her on her feet, making sure she had her balance before he let go.

“I do say, sir, ye are verra quick to put your hands where they dinna belong.” She brushed her hands over her arms and then down the waist of her gown.

He raised a brow in her direction. “Well, then, Miss. Next time I will ensure to let ye fall, lest ye no’ be subjected to my touch.” He bent and snatched up the traveling bag she’d dropped in the process of her near fall and made for the door. The ride to Stonehaven was going to be long. He was calculating the trip in his mind to see if he could just push them straight through, knowing that it would be impossible.

Hands fisted on her hips, she scowled at him. “That is no’ a nice thing to say.”

Holding the door open, he waited for her to walk outside. “I dinna like to be accused of improper behavior when the intention was no’ there. Believe me, if I had ill intent, ye would verra well ken.” He raised his brows and locked eyes with her.

She harrumphed and stomped past him. Her maid hurried after her, keeping her eyes to the ground as she passed.

Lizzie waited by the carriage, her arms crossed in front of her ample bosom, tapping her foot impatiently.

“The weather appears to be cooperating.” She tipped her face up to the sun, high in the sky.

It wasn’t offering much warmth, but clear skies, though cool, were better than rain and wind.

He just grunted as he secured her bag to the carriage along with Mary’s. The lass was vexing. He’d never been so twisted at a few sharp words from the fairer sex.

Offering his hand for both of the women to enter the carriage, he could only roll his eyes when Lizzie ignored his offering and he watched her wobble her way up the steps, barely keeping her balance.

Stubborn as a mule she was.

Well, two could play at that game.

With the door shut behind them, it wasn’t lost on Malcolm that he would be spending many miles closed in this carriage with the two lasses.

Lizzie may be stubborn, pigheaded, and completely vexing to him as she glared at him from across the carriage. But all those things aside, her glare was beautiful. Her eyes, the color of chestnuts, had a beautiful almond shape to them. Her nose had the tiniest lift at the tip. Her full lips were ruby red and begging to be kissed.

He dragged his eyes away. If he kept thinking such thoughts the already long journey would be even longer. He didn’t need to be pining over Lizzie Barclay, who could very well be a thief.

“How long until we stop next?” Lizzie asked.

“We’ve only just begun our journey. ’Twill be some time.”

She sighed and focused her gaze on the trees beyond the window as they passed.

He’d had a conversation with Gunn before he’d left. His friend had warned him about what it would like for him to be traveling with the lass. She had her maid, which one could say could serve as chaperone, but even he understood that the visual was not the best. Him traveling with two lasses, confined to a carriage for days.

Gunn knew him well. He didn’t worry that Malcolm’s conduct would be ungentlemanly in anyway, but worried what it would look like to outward appearances.

The last thing he would do was compromise Lizzie in any way whatsoever. Being forced to marry because someone demanded so, was not anything that he had any interest in. Nor would he wish that upon the sulking woman sitting across from him.

He hadn’t thought too much about marriage—other than he would probably never enter into such a union.

He was glad his friends had found happiness with their wives. He was thrilled for them, and they were truly happy whenever he saw them. The love they shared was evident on their faces.

But for him, love was not in the cards. He trusted no one outside of the friends he had grown up with. If the war had taught him anything, it was that ye only got hurt by the ones ye were trying to help.

He sighed, pushing his hands through his hair. Now that he thought about it, he was putting himself in a situation that he had vowed he never would again.

*

Lizzie stole glances of the earl when he wasn’t looking. He seemed deep in thought and by the frown on his face, his thoughts weren’t happy ones.

The crease in his forehead made him look much too serious. Her eyes met with Mary’s who had been wringing her hands in her lap since they’d sat in the carriage.

She knew that the earl was irritated about having to travel to Stonehaven. It was evident by his countenance. And she should probably let him ride in silence, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Sir,” Lizzie called. “Do ye have my grandmama’s jewelry on your person?”

His gaze slid over to her, and he cocked his head.

She found herself straightening at his assessment and she met his eyes, refusing to look away.

“Aye,” he finally answered.

“May I see them, please?” It killed her to ask so nicely, when all she wanted to do was demand that he let her have them. She got the feeling that she would get her way easier with sweetness. The earl didn’t seem the type to take orders very well. Nay, he was more the type to bark orders and expect everyone to obey.

He sighed and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out the necklace.

Mary gasped beside her.

“Ye did it, Miss. Ye really did find them,” Mary whispered awestruck.

“I told ye I would, Mary. I was sure that Viscountess Wilson was the thief, and I was right.”

The earl pulled back his hand, his brows furrowed.

“What did ye say?”

Lizzie thought back to what she had just said. “That I found my grandmama’s jewelry?”

“Nay.” He shook his head. “About the viscountess.”

Lizzie went to speak and then snapped her mouth shut. Well, bother. She hadn’t meant to say that in front of him.

“I, er, I dinna believe I made mention of the viscountess. Though she did put on a lovely party, did she no’? The house decorations were magnificent.”

“Do ye think I’m daft, Miss?”

He pierced her with a stare that she felt down to the tips of her toes.

“N-nay, my lord.”

“Then dinna make me ask again.”

She threw her hands up in defeat. “Fine. Ye will find out once we arrive at Tolton and ye see my grandmama’s portrait wearing these verra jewels. With that evidence, obviously, I canna be the Phantom Prowler. That would be Viscountess Wilson.”

“Ye should watch your tongue before accusing someone of such standing of thievery.”

She didn’t bother mentioning that he was doing the exact same thing to her. Though she didn’t hold a standing such as the viscountess. “I agree, which is why I didna care to tell ye such. Ye insisted, might I remind ye.”

Mary’s quick intake of breath brought the dreaded realization that reminded Lizzie that she was speaking to an earl with such disrespect.

“I apologize, my lord. Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my mind and says things it should no’.”

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowed as he studied her.

He shifted her grandmama’s necklace from one hand to the other. The beads making a steady rhythm that was almost mesmerizing.

“Dinna apologize for speaking so bluntly. I must confess I find it refreshing. That aside, back to the viscountess.”

Bother, she was hoping he would have dropped that after her change of subject. She watched as he played with the necklace, biting the inside of her cheek for her stupidity.

Realizing that she had no choice, she took a deep breath and flattened her palms on her skirt. “I believe, nay, I am certain, that Viscountess Wilson is the Phantom Prowler that has caught the attention of all of Scotland.” She waited for him to strike out, but he just sat there, looking at her. Watching her.

“And that was confirmed when I found my grandmama’s jewels in her chambers. The pieces had been stolen from my home some time ago at a ball my mama had hosted. The viscountess and her husband were in attendance.”

“For certain there were many in attendance?”

“Aye.” She nodded. “That is a true statement, my lord.”

“Then how can ye be sure that the prowler is the viscountess? It makes no sense. She has no need for jewels.”

“I do agree with ye, my lord. But I have researched extensively since the incident.”

“Researched? Like investigated?” He chuckled. “This is priceless. Like the Bow Street Runners in London?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms. “Fine, dinna believe me. But then explain to me how my grandmama’s jewels got in the viscountess’s armoire in her chamber? And what of the viscountess’s belongings? How is it that she has no’ been affected by the robberies? I bet ye canna do that, can ye?”

“Miss,” Mary warned beside her.

Lizzie jutted her chin out stubbornly. “I apologize, my lord.” She rolled her lips together. “I only asked about the jewels because I wanted to hold them. ’Tis no’ like I can run off with them. We are stuck inside a carriage.”

He reached toward her and when she opened her palm, he dropped the necklace into her hand.

Lovingly, she trailed her fingertips over the gemstones. She could still see it hanging around her grandmama’s slender neck, sparkling in the candlelight.

“Ye canna keep it. But ye can look at it for a few minutes.”

The carriage hit a bump in the road and they all lurched to the side. The coachman shouted an apology and the carriage rambled along. By the time they reached Stonehaven, Lizzie predicted she would have a very sore rump indeed.

“Are ye alright?” the earl asked, concern creasing his forehead.

For a brief moment, she found his concern endearing. A quick glimpse of a softer side that he possessed underneath that gruff exterior.

“I am fine, thank ye. ’Twas just a bump.”

He nodded. “A wee bit more than that to rock the carriage so. I can only hope it didn’t damage anything. I dinna want any delays in our travels.”

“My lord. Speaking of our travels. What exactly is your plan to get us to Stonehaven? Will we be stopping to rest often?”

He studied her as if trying to ascertain if she was genuinely curious or if she was asking questions to be difficult. She supposed some of her reasoning was to be a pain, but, in her defense, he deserved it for not believing her in the first place.

To accuse her of lying and of thievery…it was uncalled for. And in doing so, she didn’t feel the need to placate him and go along with whatever plan he fostered up in his mind.

“Miss Barclay, we will stop as often as ye require,” he finally answered. His look was challenging, as if he were daring her to complain about such liberties.

His gaze held hers and her stomach fluttered. He was a very handsome man. And his voice. Well, his voice was sweet as honeyed whisky whenever he spoke. It didn’t matter if he was being curt or even accusing her of crimes. His voice slid over her skin and seeped into her pores, infiltrating all her senses. She broke eye contact and focused on the trees passing by, letting out a shuddering breath. Praying that he didn’t see the effect he had on her.

How silly was she? To find the man that held her very life in his hands attractive? He held the key on whether she lived a free life or if she would spend her days in prison. She shuddered again but for an entirely different reason. Imagining herself locked away in the dungeons. Sustaining on bread and ale. The thought was depressing. The scenario also undeserving. She was innocent.

Never mind what it would do to her parents.

“What has your mind so occupied, Miss?”

Tilting her head, she wet her lips as she contemplated whether or not she should answer him. If they were in any other setting, her attitude would be frowned upon. She understood that. If her parents saw the way she was behaving, they would have her remanded to her room and not let out. But somehow, in this close setting, intimate almost, she felt like protocol was swept away and made obsolete. Because of that, she, once again, found herself unable to hold her tongue.

“Since ye are interested, my lord. I was ruminating on the fact that ye have for the lack of a better term, imprisoned my maid and I in your carriage, insisting that I am a thief. There is something verra wrong with ye.” She crossed her arms defiantly and glared at the man sitting across from her.

A man, who infuriatingly, lifted his brow at her before barking out a laugh.