Chapter Sixteen
Malcolm waited onbated breath like a lad daring his first kiss. What the hell had him so unsure of himself? Surely, this is what his friends felt when they’d come to the realization that they’d met the woman they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with.
And that was exactly what he wanted to do with Lizzie.
He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she absorbed what he’d proposed. Her face breaking into a beautiful smile that the devil himself wouldn’t be able to steal away.
She bobbed her head up and down before throwing her arms around his neck. He inhaled the scent of her as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
Mary stepped forward to intervene, but he stopped her with a wave of her hand and then unwound himself from Lizzie’s embrace.
“Afore we have any such displays as this, I must speak to your father.”
Her lower lip jutted out in a pout, but she nodded her head in agreement.
“Ye’ve a point. Mayhap we should make our way inside so that ye may have the necessary discussion?”
Thirty minutes later, Sir Barclay ushered Malcolm into his study and pointed to a chair for him to take a seat.
“Whisky?” he asked.
Malcolm nodded. Who was he to turn down a good dram? He’d be daft to do so.
“Thank ye,” he said as he took the glass and swirled the amber liquid in the crystal glass he’d been given.
Barclay took a seat behind his desk and leaned back, crossing his legs. “I’ve been informed that ye have something important to discuss with me.” He paused, waiting patiently for Malcolm to speak.
Malcolm cleared his throat and tilted his head from side to side, trying to relieve the tension that had built up in his neck. It was stupid really. Considering he was a grown man. He’d served in the war for Christ’s sake.
How did this wisp of a lass bring him to his knees?
Her charm. Her wit. Her beauty. And as much as it was not the proper countenance, her forwardness. He absolutely loved that about her. That she wasn’t scared to tell him what she felt. What she wanted. He found it absolutely enticing.
“In the past several days that I have spent with your daughter, I have found myself inexplicably drawn to her. She’s smart, and beautiful, with a personality I’ve no’ oft seen.”
Barclay raised a brow in question at the last part of his statement.
“That is in nay means an insult, sir. I find it quite,” he paused, searching for the correct word, “refreshing. All of this to say that I would like your blessing to court your daughter.”
He waited, not realizing he held his breath until Barclay gave him his blessing and his breath rushed out in a huff.
“Of course, she has a dowry, but I suspect that ye are well enough established that ’tis no’ of need or plays any part in ye asking for the courtship.”
“’Tis true. I am in nay need of any monetary gains from Lizzie. Whate’er coin or land she currently holds as dowry willremain hers to deal with as she pleases. I’ve nay interest in acquiring that from your daughter or family.”
And he meant it. Money was of no interest to him. He had plenty. Culzean and his estates were very successful. His father, grandfather, and the rest of his line before them were all incredibly savvy with running the Kennedy books.
The knowledge that even though he’d only asked for permission to court Lizzie, not marry her, though that was how they were speaking, was not lost on him. He actually quite liked the idea of spending his days with Lizzie.
Could he see her as Lady Kennedy? He could. With her personality she would run his estates with ease and authority.
But he couldn’t get ahead of himself. Hell’s teeth, he couldn’t very well propose yet.
Or could he? It wasn’t that long ago that he’d sworn off ever being in a committed relationship. But with Lizzie he also learned that it was okay to trust in someone. To believe in them. Something that, outside of his group of friends, he hadn’t done since the war.
“Well, I think cheers are in order.” Barclay held up his glass of whisky, pulling Malcolm’s attention back to him. “Slàinte Math!”
Malcolm dipped his head in thanks and repeated the cheer. “Slàinte Math!” Then in one long swallow emptied his glass of whisky and set the glass down.
