Chapter Eleven
Malcolm wanted tokick himself. Had he actually just said that? Hell’s teeth, he was getting soft.
No matter how Rosalie looked at him, she had no effect on him. Truth be told, she looked like she could work in one of the local whorehouses. She probably did. He had no idea what she’d told Lizzie, but he was certain whatever it was, was a lie.
He was surprised the innkeeper allowed her to sully his patronage. It was a surefire way to ensure he would never return, especially with a reputable lass such as Lizzie.
Reputable? He almost laughed. She was a possible thief. That made her no more reputable than Rosalie.
Lizzie had a sour look on her face. “Is something amiss?”
“Nay. ’Tis naught. If ye’d like to sup with Rosalie, ye are welcome to. I am fine dining on my own.” Her voice was clipped as she spoke.
“I—” He snapped his mouth shut as he searched for the right words. But what was it that he wanted to say? “I dinna wish that. I am quite comfortable with my current company.”
Her cheeks flushed in the most adorable way, and once again, he had to remind himself that this wasn’t some courtship he was doing. It was a job.
It seemed to take forever for the food to be served. When it finally was, they ate in awkward silence, stealing glances.
He was too old for this shite. He wasn’t some schoolboy seeing his first pretty girl.
He was a grown man for Christ’s sake.
“I canna eat another bite,” Lizzie announced, dabbing at the corners of her mouth before setting her napkin on her plate.
Mary appeared out of nowhere. “Are ye ready to retire, miss?”
“Aye.” She stood and turned to him and dropped into a curtsy. “Thank ye for the company during dinner, my lord.”
He stood and nodded. “I will be up shortly.”
He watched her walk out of the room, his eyes never leaving her arse.
“Another whisky,” he called to the server as she passed, waving his glass.
She returned with a bottle and went to pour him a glass.
“Just leave the bottle. Ye can add it to my bill.”
As he drank, his eyes remained where Lizzie had disappeared. What the hell was he going to do for the night?
One room.
One damn room.
He sucked down two more glasses of whisky and pushed back from the table. He needed to make sure the women were safely in their room.
As he left the dining room, an arm snaked around his neck. A mouth close to his ear spoke seductively. “I didna think ye were e’er going to leave the room.”
He extricated himself from Rosalie and took a step back. “Sorry, I am no’ interested.”
She tugged at his lapels, trying to pull him closer, but his feet were planted.
“Come on, now. We can have a great time before ye return to your lady.”
“She’s no’ my lady.”
Rosalie smiled wide. “E’en better.”
