*
The carriage cameto a stop, rocking them to and fro. They’d finally arrived at their destination for the night.
Inside the inn, Malcolm spoke to the owner manning the desk and secured two rooms, across the hall from each other, and escorted Lizzie and Mary to theirs.
Lizzie looked around, taking in the room. Her face gave away no inclination as to whether or not she thought it a proper room for them to stay.
“Will this suffice, Miss?” He asked. If she didn’t find the room appealing, he would talk to the innkeeper to see if something different was available.
She nodded and gave him a small smile. “’Tis just fine, my lord.”
The space held one large bed. Lizzie and Mary would have to share, but neither of the lasses complained about that so he figured it probably wasn’t the first time they’d been in such a scenario.
“I’ll leave ye two to get ready for dinner. I shall come by to get ye in an hour if that is acceptable?”
“Aye. That will be perfect. Thank ye, my lord.”
Her eyes were still a bit red and puffy from the tears she’d shed during the storm, but she appeared to be back to her normal demeanor.
Nodding, he backed out of the room and closed the door behind him and made his way to his own room.
Sitting on the bed, he cradled his head in his hands and wondered once again what he had gotten himself into. With a heavy sigh, he moved to the basin, he splashed cool water on his face and wiped it dry with the towel hanging from the hook on the side of the table.
He hoped they wouldn’t have to endure any more storms on their way to Stonehaven. A repeat of this afternoon wasn’t something he wanted to see again. Moreover, he wasn’t sure Lizzie’s nerves could take it. He had never seen anyone sodeathly afraid of storms before. The pure terror in her eyes was tragic.
Never mind himself. Because if she had that same reaction to another storm, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from pulling her into his arms again and cradling her even tighter as he kissed all her worries away.
“Fuck,” he mumbled into the empty room. “She’s a thief, Kennedy.” He had to keep reminding himself of that fact. He could only imagine where his mind would take him.
Even as he said the words, he was having difficulty believing them. The lass was far too meek and the amount of noise she was making whilst rummaging through the viscountess’s armoire gave her innocence away. There was no scenario where she could get away with all the crimes she’d done with being so careless. Certainly, she would have been caught before now.
Based off the articles he’d read, he believed that the thief was more than likely a man.
However, catching the lass red-handed led some credence to Lizzie being the actual prowler.
It would be interesting to see once they arrived at Tolton Hall if the lass could prove her innocence or if she’d just taken him on a fool’s ride. Hopefully, he was smarter than that.
Putting his trust in the wrong person had burned him before. Memories of Angus assaulted him. He’d believed that lad was true to their country, never once suspecting him for the spy amongst their ranks.
Aye, he’d caught him in the end, but he should have seen what was right under his nose much sooner than he had.
And the image of watching Angus hang was an image he could never erase from his mind.
Malcolm dropped back down on the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor. He hated the melancholythat filled him whenever he thought of Angus. The guilt he felt even though he’d only done his duty.
But it still hurt. He took in a few deep breaths, slowly pushing them out through his mouth. With each breath out he forced a memory to leave his body with it.
These bouts of sadness and regret didn’t overtake him often anymore, but there were still times where they snuck into his mind, causing him to remember and reminding him not to give his trust to anyone.
*
Lizzie collapsed ontothe bed and groaned as soon as the earl closed the door. The bed was surprisingly soft and she sunk into the thick coverlet.
She scrubbed at her face thinking about her predicament.
“Mary, what have I done?”
“Miss?” Her maid, who had been setting out Lizzie’s items for the night, paused and turned to her. “Whate’er are ye referring to?”
