Page 10 of To My Scot, With Love
He threw open the door and froze.
Definitely no’ a fire.
But a crisis just the same.
“Hullo, Malcolm.” Pink lips pulled into a shy smile, rose-gold curls slowly revealed as the woman outside his door pulled back the hood of her cloak.
“My lady?” he croaked.
Her hand landed on his chest. His bare chest. And gave a shove. He stumbled backward, and she followed him inside his room, hips swaying. He frowned. Nae,entire bodyswaying.
He stared dumbly at her. Was he dreaming? The searing heat on his chest from where her gloveless hand had landed suggested otherwise. But he couldn’t fathom any other reason for why she would be here in his rooms.
A small hiccup squeaked from her, and her hand flew to her mouth, eyes widening.
He tilted his head. “My lady…”
“I have something I’d like to discuss with you. A preposition.”
Her words contained a subtle slur. Combined with the hiccup and the swaying… His mind latched onto her words, and he frowned. “A preposition?”
Lady Bentley’s lips pursed, and her forehead wrinkled. “Propetition.”
His lips twitched. Despite the fact that she being here in his room, a wee bit drouthy, and him half-naked, was nothing to laugh about.
“Have ye maybe had a touch too much to drink, my lady? Why don’t I escort you back to the manor?”
“No, I’m exactly where I wanted to end up. Though I might have been a bit too generous with my brandy. I was trying to work up the courage. To propose to you.”
Malcolm’s eyebrows flew to his hairline.
And she broke out in a fit of giggles. “Oh dear.Propositionyou. Not propose.”
She snorted. An adorable, unladylike snort.
“I think, Lady Bentley, I should get ye back safely home. Aye?”
“Nae.” Her blue-green eyes glittered at him. Teasing. Was she being saucy with him? Throwing a bit of his brogue back at him? “I like when your brogue thickens,” she said breathlessly.
Och. Fook. Shite.It wasnae just his brogue that was thickening.
“It seems to do that when you are excited or angry or worried.” Her lips pursed and, egads, he wanted to kiss them. “Whenever you seem to be feeling strong emotions, it seems. It’s more prevalent right now.” Her gaze whisked up to his.
Aye, it was. Because he was feeling strong fooking emotions.
She stepped up to him, one finger tracing between the muscles of his chest. A horrible reminder that he wasn’t wearing much for clothes.
“I should don a shirt. I forwent one in my haste to see what the ruckus was about.”
“No, thank you.”
“Pardon?”
Her finger trailed lower, outlining the muscles in his abdomen. His skin quivered. As did another part of him. His hands fisted at his sides.Shite.
“You’re much larger than the last time.”
She glanced up at him, her neck craning back to meet his gaze. She was so much shorter than his six-foot-four frame. A wee bonnie thing.
