Chapter Twenty
It was themost unconventional proposal that Malcolm had ever heard, but it was also the most endearing and sincere.
“Are ye asking me to marry ye, Lass?” He lifted a brow in question.
She tilted her head to the side, the most beautiful smile on her face. “Indeed I am.”
“Well, in that case, Annabel Elizabeth Barclay, indeed I will.”
Before he could comprehend what she was doing, she launched herself from her chair and closed her arms around his neck. The clatter of dishes captured everyone’s attention, and they all stared at them, as he wrapped his arms around her waist and settled her in his lap.
He didn’t care. They could stare all they want. Including when he bent and captured her mouth in a searing kiss.
She matched his energy and when he licked the seam of her lips, she opened her mouth, allowing him entry. Their tongues danced together wickedly, and he groaned into her mouth. He heard the low murmur of people in the room, but no amount of talk about impropriety would take away from this moment he and Lizzie were sharing.
“I canna wait to make ye Lady Cassilis,” he murmured against her neck.
She giggled in response, also ignoring those around them.
“Lord Kennedy,” the innkeeper appeared at the table. “Pardon for the intrusion, but I couldna help but hear the news. Congratulations on your engagement.” A server approached the table with a tray and the innkeeper picked up the bottle atop it. “A bottle of our verra best champagne for ye both to celebrate.”
Malcolm smiled warmly and bowed his head. “Thank ye. ’Tis most kind of ye to do so.”
“May I?” The man pointed to the bottle and Malcolm nodded.
“Please.”
With that, he uncorked the bottle with a pop, and now that the room understood what was happening, everyone cheered.
He kissed her cheek, which was warm under his lips. “I love ye, lass.”
“And I ye, Malcolm. I think I’ve loved ye since I first saw ye at the Wilsons’ party.”
They accepted the glasses of champagne that the innkeeper passed to them, and with a cheer to their future, they sipped the bubbly liquid, laughing as the bubbles tickled their noses.
Later, as he escorted Lizzie to her room, he paused, his hands on her waist, not wanting to let her go.
“Now that I’ve got ye, I dinna want to take my hands off ye,” he confessed.
She tipped her head up to his, her brown eyes clashing with his. “Then dinna,” she whispered, lifting on her toes and nipping at his lower lip.
The sensation and her words went straight to his cock. He pulled her flush to him and he kenned she could feel his hard length.
Her eyes flared wide and she raised an eyebrow in challenge.
“We arena married yet, Lass.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Doesna matter. We will be.”
He glanced over her shoulder at Mary, who, as always, hung back far enough to not interrupt, but still made her presence known.
Saint’s above he wanted to take Lizzie up on her offer. He’d been thinking about losing himself in her softness all night. He didn’t think his body could hold off much longer.
“What of Mary?”
“She can stay in the room I rented for her and I. And I…” She walked her fingers up his chest and he swore he never felt anything more erotic. “I can go to your room with ye.”
Emotions warred within him. He kenned he shouldn’t. Not until they were married. He should be a reputable man and hustle her inside her room and retire to his own for the night. But Hell’s teeth, he didn’t have the willpower to deny her. Not when she looked up at him with those big brown eyes burning bright for him.
