He narrowed his eyes, suddenly looking unsure. “What are ye proposing, miss?” He pushed off the floor and stood tall.
She had to crane her neck to look into his eyes. His mention of the word proposing had her stomach doing a flip for no reason at all.
“Mayhap we can speak in your room?”
Leaning his head back against the door, he closed his eyes. He looked pained.
“I dinna believe that is a good idea.”
“Well, we canna stand out here and have a conversation, surely.” The thought of someone hearing their exchange was mortifying. Just because there was no one in the hall with them didn’t mean that no one was listening. The walls weren’t so thick to block all conversation.
“And we most definitely should no’ be in my room. By ourselves. With ye unchaperoned.”
She put her hands on her hips and huffed out an exasperated breath. “What do ye think is going to happen? Ye are an honorable man. I trust ye. Do ye no’ trust yourself?”
“Miss,” he warned. “I’ve no concern with myself. I think I’ve proven that in our journey up to this point. Havena I?”
He had a point. Even with his bouts of gruffness, he’d been naught but gentlemanlike in his actions toward her.
Two doors down, a man with groggy eyes stuck his balding head out into the hallway. “I dinna care who dishonors who. Go have your conversation somewhere other than the damn hall.” He snapped before disappearing inside and shutting the door quietly behind him.
“Shite,” Malcolm muttered. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his room.
It looked similar to her room, including the two beds, which at first glance, looked like they were way too small to fit Malcolm’s large frame.
He pointed to one of the beds. “Ye sit there. I will stay here.” He was clear on the other side of the room, leaning against the wardrobe, ankles crossed. “Now, what did ye want to speak about?”
Her nerves jumped and her heartbeat hastened. She felt the teeniest bit of perspiration break out on her brow. Why was it so hot in here all of a sudden? She smoothed the skirt of her gown with her palms and exhaled slowly.
“I was wondering if I have done something to offend ye?”
He frowned as his eyes clashed with hers. “Why do ye ask such a thing?”
She shrugged. “It seemed like we were enjoying each other’s company. Telling each other of our pasts, and then today, ye have been naught but cold.”
“Lass, I fear ye forget our places. Just because I’d rather endure the journey with talk instead of suffering it in silence doesna mean that we are friends.”
She winced at his words. She couldn’t help it. They hurt far more than they should. As if he’d pulled the dagger from his boot and stabbed her in the heart. But he lied. Malcolm Kennedy maybe a lot of things that she didn’t ken, but she could tell their conversations had been genuine. Why act this way now?
“I dinna believe ye,” she said quietly.
“What is there no’ to believe? I have given ye no signals of anything but where we stand now.”
Forcing herself to her feet, and in a sudden burst of bravado, she closed the distance between them. Stopping mere inches from him. At this closeness, she needed to crane her neck to look into his eyes. Eyes which were focused on something on the wall behind her, stubbornly refusing to meet her gaze.
“Lass,” he warned.
With even more bravado, she reached out and placed a hand on his chest.
He hissed and grasped her hand in his, pulling it off of him, but he didn’t let go.
“Ye havena any idea what ye are playing with,” he warned again, his blue eyes dark.
Straightening her shoulders, she jutted her chin out defiantly. “Why dinna ye show me then?” she asked, her voice sounding odd to her own ears. Embarrassed at her forwardness, she blushed as heat pooled at her center.
Letting go of her hand, he stepped away and instantly she felt the coolness of his absence. She spun and addressed him. “Ye are a verra confusing man, Malcolm Kennedy.”
He raised his brow in question but remained silent, his back stiff and straight.
