Chapter Seven
Was it possiblefor dinner to be an erotic experience? If one had asked Malcolm before this eve he would have said absolutely not.
But sitting across from the beautiful Lizzie Barclay, watching her enjoy her meal with such fervor, it most certainly was. Especially when she moaned with delight as she sank her teeth into the berry tart that was served for dessert.
He found himself clearing his throat and straightening himself in his chair more times than he wanted to admit.
Their conversation was easy. Natural.
As if they were long-time acquaintances.
“Have ye always lived in Stonehaven?”
She licked her lips, picking up a crumb from the tart that had settled on them, and nodded. “Aye. My papa was born there and my mama was from Inverness. Of course, when they married, they settled into Papa’s familial home, Tolton Hall. ’Tis a beautiful estate as ye will see.” Her eyes clouded before she quickly guarded her gaze and took another bite of the tart.
“Ye said your grandmama has passed.”
She frowned and her gaze dipped down to her plate.
“Aye.”
“I am verra sorry to hear that. Is your grandfather still with ye?”
Lizzie shook her head. The baubles in her ears swinging from side to side. “Nay. I ne’er kenned him. He passed before I was born. ’Tis why my grandmama lived with us.”
He nodded. Malcolm could understand the loss of family before ye met them. He’d been in much the same situation. He had never met his grandparents either. From either side. And his parents died when he was very young. So young that he didn’t remember them.
He’d been raised by nannies and tutors, preparing him to become the best earl he could be. Which he hoped he succeeded in and was making his parents proud. At least he liked to think that they would be proud to see the man he’d become.
“What about ye?” she asked, drawing his attention back to her. “Is Twynholm your home?”
“Nay. I do have an estate near there, but ’tis no’ where I spend verra much of my time. I usually stay in Culzean Castle.”
Her eyes rounded at the word castle.
“I have always found castles fascinating. Aye, we have our estates, but castles hold so much more history than an estate.”
“I must confess, I do enjoy my time at Culzean. Though it can be monotonous at times.”
She cocked her head to the side, a small frown on her face. “How so?”
He shrugged. “The days are always the same. The same tasks need to be done. There is a definite lack of excitement to poring over the finances day after day.”
“What do ye like to do for excitement?”
That question caught him unawares. He took a long pull of wine and set the glass on the table before thrumming his fingers against the cloth-covered wood. “’Tis a good question, Miss. I find since I returned from the war, I havena really done much that would qualify for excitement.”
Her eyes flared. “Ye fought in the war?”
“Aye. I have been home for a few years now. But that experience never leaves ye.”
“Ye are lucky to have made it home. No’ e’eryone was such.”
A faraway look entered her eyes, and Malcolm had the feeling that she had known someone who fought.
“War is ne’er fun and ne’er something to be taken lightly. I did what I had to do for our country and enjoyed my job while there, no matter how difficult it was.”
She nodded. “What was your job?”
