He was so close to Tolton Hall. Less than a day’s ride now, but his horse needed caring. And as the inn that he’d spent the night with Lizzie in what seemed forever ago came into view, he kenned he had to stop.
As anxious as he was to see her, he didn’t want to arrive on her doorstep smelling of sweat and horse, with the dirt of the road upon his clothes. Nay, he wanted to appear fresh and clean, so he could wrap his arms around her and feel her bury her face into his chest.
He closed his eyes, seeing the scene play out in his mind. It was all he wanted. Mayhap a boyhood fantasy, but he’d had a lot of time to think on this journey.
The love that he felt for Lizzie was true. Now that the pounding ache in his head had ceased, he had thought about how he would explain his actions. Actions regarding her brother. His leaving in the early hours of the morn.
He worried that she felt he’d abandoned her. That wasn’t his intention, but he could see how his actions could have been construed as such.
The inn loomed ahead, and he clicked his tongue to get his horse to slow to a stop. A lad grabbed the reins as he hopped off and Malcolm placed a shilling in his hand. “We’ve had a longjourney. He needs food, water, rest, and a good brushing. Care for him well.” He untied his travel bag and threw it over his shoulder.
“Aye, my lord,” the lad answered as he led the horse around the back. “I will see to him personally.”
Malcolm paused in front of the door, looking up at the facade of the inn. Remembering when he was here last.
Soon. Soon, he would see her again. It had been weeks, one more night wouldn’t make a difference. That’s what he kept telling himself when all he wanted to do was push forward.
Inside, the innkeeper’s face broke out into a smile of recognition. “My lord, welcome back. Are ye here for a meal or do ye need a room as well.”
“A room, please. Along with a hot bath.” He almost asked for a bottle of whisky, but then thought better of it. He wanted his head to remain clear. And ache-less.
“Certainly, follow me.”
An hour later, he was soaking his sore muscles in steaming water scented with rosemary. He sighed. The hot water felt amazing, and he could feel his tense muscles relaxing under the heat. The only thing that would make this better was to have Lizzie soaking in the tub with him.
Her naked skin pressed up against his. He groaned. He’d wash her hair, massaging her scalp as he worked his fingers through her long tresses.
He’d wash every inch of her body, running the cloth along her smooth skin. Another groan and his cock jumped to life, standing at attention in the water.
Fighting the urge to fist his length and grant him the relief he so desperately needed, he stepped out of the bath and dried off with the towel that had been hung over the back of the chair.
The bed in the room looked too large and lonely for him to share by himself. An image of Lizzie laying there, her dark hairsplayed in contrast to the white sheets, as she looked up at him longingly.
“Shite,” he cursed to the empty room, pushing his hands through his damp hair.
He really was obsessed.
Thoughts about his arrival at Tolton Hall entered his mind. Would the Barclays even allow him entry? He hoped, dared to think so.
But he didn’t want to just to be allowed entry. Nay, he needed to speak with Lizzie. And if she would have him, he would propose.
Because these past few weeks had been the most insufferable weeks he’d ever had to endure. Worse than the war.
He’d felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and he needed the feeling to stop.
His only salvation would be if Lizzie forgave him and accepted his hand in marriage. Only then would the world be put back to rights.
Sitting down at the small desk set near the window, he reached for the ink and paper he’d called for earlier.
Lizzie was one thing. The Barclays were another.
He could only hope his words of solace and apology would be enough for them to accept him and allow him to wed their daughter—if she was willing, of course.
Folding and sealing the letter, he addressed it to the Barclays and brought it downstairs to the innkeeper, who assured him that it would be delivered expeditiously.
“Will ye have guests joining ye for dinner at your table, my lord?”
He shook his head. “I willnae. I must sadly admit, this journey is one I am making alone. But I do hope that the return journey will be different.”
