The night was long. But yet, he almost wished it would last an eternity. Because then he wouldn’t have to break the heart of the woman that he loved.
His thought hit him like a punch in the gut.
Love.
It was true. He loved Lizzie Barclay.
But she would never love him back.
*
Something was offwith Malcolm. His demeanor in the kitchen was… Lizzie couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but he was acting funny.
Her heart sank. Mayhap he was having second thoughts about their courtship. Ignoring the mug of warm milk she’d prepared earlier, she collapsed onto the bed.
“Damn it,” she cursed, fisting the bed coverings. “Me and my stupid forwardness.”
Mama was right. She had repeatedly told her to rein in her personality, and for the most part, she thought she had done a good job of doing so. But when it came to her attraction to Malcolm, the inexplicable pull word him, she found it hard to control herself.
She covered her eyes with her arm and groaned. What had she been thinking? She’d practically demanded that he go to her father and ask permission to court her.
What if Malcolm had done it only to appease her in the moment? A way to rid himself of a wee beastie.
She must talk to him. Apologize for her behavior. If she could put him at ease, mayhap that would change his mind.
Sitting up, decision made, she slipped he feet into slippers and pulled on her robe, cinching it tight around her waist.
Her nerves were on edge, and her heart beat fast as she made her way down the hall to the room Malcolm was staying in.
Knocking on the door quiet enough that she hoped wouldn’t wake anyone else, she stepped back and held her breath as she waited for Malcolm to answer.
Moments seemed to stretch on forever. Mayhap he was asleep and hadn’t heard.
She knocked again.
The door cracked open, and Malcolm’s eyes blew wide at the sight of her. He pulled the door open, and stuck his head out into the hall, looking back and forth.
“Lass, what are ye doing here?” he whispered, then yanked her inside and shut the door.
His honey-colored hair was crazy, the ends standing up straight in every direction. His clothes disheveled. He looked like he’d been through Hell and then dragged back to the land of the living.
Her back against the door, she watched him.
“Ye shouldna be here.” He pushed his hands roughly through his hair.
She could smell the whisky on his breath. Her eyes flashed to the near empty bottle. Clearly, something was amiss.
“I couldna sleep,” she whispered.
“Isna that what ye got the milk for?”
She nodded. “At first, aye. But once I got back to my room, warm milk couldn’t help. What is wrong? And dinna ye dare tell me ’tis naught. I ken ye are lying.”
His eyes were sad as he looked at her, but he remained silent.
“If ye dinna want this courtship, please ken that ye can walk away. I willna shackle ye to a life ye dinna want.” No matter how much it would break her heart.
“What?” His gaze was incredulous. “Lass, I verra much want this.” He approached her, his strong fingers caressing her cheek. “Och, more than ye ken.”
