Jogging down the stairs, she smiled politely at the maid who’d pinched her yesterday. “Can you tell me where to find Collin?”
“Aye, Miss Thatcher.”
“My friends call me Quinn, and since we’re already on a pinching basis, I guess that includes you.”
“Your friends pinch you?” she asked, her brows dipped in confusion.
“That and worse.”
“I’m Abigail, miss. If you’ll just follow me, the others are sitting down to morning breakfast.”
“Thanks, Abby.”
Quinn walked alongside her as she made several turns down different hallways. They passed by another large entrance where Quinn slowed to get a better look. Old-timey paintings hung on the wall, along with a crest and crossed swords. Suits of armor did indeed line the wall, making her chuckle. “Must be the ballroom.”
“Yes, miss.”
“Quinn,” she reminded her.
“Yes, Miss Quinn.”
“Just Quinn.”
“Quinn,” she repeated. “I’ll be happy to help you if you need anything during your stay. The staff has been informed of your presence, and we are at your service.”
“I don’t suppose you know how to fly a plane.”
“No, Miss…Quinn, afraid no’.”
Abby stopped at the entrance to the dining room and gestured. Quinn gave her a good old southern smile and stepped inside the room, expecting to find Collin sitting alone at the table. She was wrong.
Chairs scratched the floor as three men stood. A blonde-haired woman sitting next to Collin at the table ignored Quinn’s arrival and continued drinking from the fine china. Quinn had learned early in life to ignore the aura’s around everyone’s body, but this woman’s color was hard to ignore. It was the same color as baby poop
Good thing the food didn’t smell the same way. The smell of fresh bacon drifted to her nose, making her stomach growl.
“Quinn, please come in and join us for breakfast.”
“If I can just get a lift back into town, I can grab something from the pub.” Quinn gestured with her thumb over her shoulder as she silently wondered if Abby knew how to drive.
“Great idea. I can take her.” The woman at the table shoved back her chair and raised her brow with a forced smile. Quinn had seen that smile before. She’d given it a time or two. It oozed “woman on her period ready to fight to the death for the last piece of chocolate in the universe.” Game on, sister. Quinn gave her a lopsided grin and sauntered into the room straight up to Collin, ignoring the others. She rested her hand on his bulging bicep and met his gaze. “Thanks for letting me sleep in your room last night. It was magical.”
Ian busted out in laughter as the woman’s eyes narrowed in contempt. The other man at the table rested his palm on Blondie’s arm as if ready to stop her from scratching out Quinn’s eyes. Quinn wasn’t worried. There was plenty of silverware within reach.
Collin’s eyes sparkled as he smiled down at Quinn and cupped her cheek. His palm was warm and soft to the touch as he lowered his head, never dropping her gaze until his lips were mere inches from hers. “You thought last night was magical? You havenae seen anything yet.”
He slipped his arm around Quinn’s waist and pulled her flush against his hard body as he kissed her lips. She didn’t question why he was helping her bait the blonde woman; she didn’t care. The heat of his mouth seared Quinn to the soul as her heart raced frantically in her chest. His tongue toyed with hers, sipping, taking, and meeting hers at every move. Touché.
He slowly pulled away. “You’ll stay and eat, then I’ll show you the grounds.”
“You win.” She grinned, already spying the biscuits on the table. She’d planned to grab one on her way out, but this was so much more fun than eating alone. She silently wondered how many locals she could piss off before Johnny got well.
“Ian, you wouldn’t mind moving down to make room for Quinn, would you?”
“Of course not. I've finished anyway.” Ian moved his plate and put a fresh one in its place before holding out Quinn’s chair.
Blondie snapped her mouth shut and tossed her napkin on her uneaten food.
“Well.” She huffed. “I’ve lost my appetite. If you’ll excuse me.” She stomped from the room.
“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Quinn called out after her, hoping for one last jab, even though she really wanted to sing, Booyah, I got your boyfriend, and then do a chair dance that would make her mother cringe. Okay, so maybe that was a dick move, or what men would refer to as a cock block, but she didn’t like Blondie’s sneer or her puke-green aura.
The other guy, who had been at the table, excused himself seconds after the woman, and Ian grabbed a biscuit and raised it in a wave. “It’s always a pleasure, Quinn.”
“Aww shucks, there’s no reason to lie to my face, Ian.”
Ian chuckled as he continued out of the room, leaving Collin and Quinn alone.
“I thought the blonde Barbie was going to jump me,” Quinn said, grabbing a biscuit and muffin from the table. She plopped down in Ian’s old seat.
“She’s jealous,” Collin said, retaking his seat. “She’s been trying to get me to kiss her like that since she stepped foot inside the castle. I’m going to owe you for the rest of my life, first returning my emerald and now getting Margarete to leave me alone. Avoiding her was a full-time job. I’m beginning to think you’re my good luck charm.”
“Now, Collin, I’m sure if you had just told her you only like brunettes or redheads with big breasts, she would have taken the hint.”
“I’m afraid you’re wrong. I dinnae think anything would have ever stopped her from trying. She would have dyed her hair and scheduled a breast implant.”
“If you don’t like her, then why is she here?” she asked before sinking her teeth into the blueberry muffin. She moaned in appreciation. The muffin was fluffy and flavorful, definitely not from a package of ingredients that she couldn’t pronounce. “I’m going to make your cook my new best friend.”
“She’ll be happy to hear that. You have a healthy appetite.” Collin grinned.
“Doesn’t everyone?” Quinn asked before taking another bite.
“Margarete eats like a bird and complains about the food much of the time.”
“Tell me again why you tolerate her.”
“She’s an interior decorator, restoring the rooms on the west side of the castle back to their former glory after an unfortunate fire.”
Quinn swallowed. “Ah, you need her but don’t want a booty call. I get it. It’s like that time my pool guy took off his shirt. Tempting, but he must have been drinking the pool chemicals because he was short a few screws. Well, not screws if you know what I mean.” Quinn wiggled her brows. “I’m sure he got plenty of action, just not from me. Speaking of screwing, is the universe still playing with me, or did my pilot make a miraculous recovery?”
“I spoke with the doctor last night before I tucked you in. Johnny is still very sick, and the official diagnosis is measles. Since a rash has appeared, he is contagious.”
“How long am I looking at?”
“Possibly two weeks, could be less. They’ve transported him to a hospital in the nearby town. One other housekeeper had a fever and was taken as a precaution.”
Quinn’s heart fell into her stomach. Her annoyance was replaced with concern. Poor, poor Johnny. Here she was sitting in a castle with amazing food, having fun pissing off the locals, and Johnny was stuck in a hospital, probably covered in anti-itch lotion. Quinn’s skin crawled. She pulled her shirt away from her chest and peered down at her creamy skin. She sighed in relief. False alarm. No rashes.
“Your ghosts are conspiring against me,” she announced, pouring a cup of coffee from the carafe. “I woke up to find three of them staring at me. Gwinnie thinks I’m here to set things right.”
“Who were the other two?” Collin asked, before sipping his coffee.
“Well, we didn’t have a formal intr
oduction, but one looks like an older version of you with red hair and beard, and the other was a white-haired fellow wearing Ian’s colors.”
“Sounds like Alastair, my four times great-grandfather, and his rival, Alexander McDougall. The stone was stolen during their time.”
“Well, now it’s returned. I’ve set things right; so why are they being creepy and watching me sleep?”
“The curse,” he answered as though he believed it himself. Quinn was starting to get the suspicion that he did. Who was the weird one now?
“I don’t believe in curses,” she announced. She didn’t even want to know what the curse entailed. No ancestor or dead gypsy had any say in her life or her future.
“You’ve made that abundantly clear, but arenae you the least bit interested?”
“I’m about as interested as a toll booth operator, on a road closed for construction, looking for the next car.” She shook her head. The thought of being the catalyst of the curse gave her a headache.
“Disease, death, fire, and fallen men are foretold in the tale. Measles is just the start.”
“Hey.” She pulled at the blueberry muffin. “I wasn’t the one to inflict the measles. It’s just a coincidence that my pilot was the carrier. Did your curse mention that?”
“Actually, it reads: A woman with hair of fire, and eyes the color of the stolen stone, will descend from the sky. Her word will carry a bite and sting worse than the fiercest beast, making the lines between past and present blur.”
“Any redhead with green eyes fits that description.”
“Disease will spread; death will follow; walls will crumble, and men will fall.”
“That’s a lot to put on my shoulders, don’t you think?” Quinn sipped her coffee.
“Friend or foe, it is she who controls the Menzie destiny and will bring down the deceit of once noble men, making them fall from grace into hell.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit vague?” she asked. “That’s like saying one of your unborn children will be a girl. Why not give details and say one of your children will be a unicorn with rainbow hair? Now that would be interesting, and something I’d stick around to watch.”
Collin smiled. “You arenae quite right, Quinn Thatcher.”
“Words to live by,” she said, standing and slipping her phone with the half-dead battery from her pocket. “I need to call Johnny’s family and check in with my sisters.”
“Reception is best outside, if you’re going to use your cell phone.”
“Thanks.” She picked up her uneaten biscuit and headed for the door, only pausing before she stepped out of the room. She turned back to face him. “I promise not to bring down any of your walls.”
“Donae promise what you cannae control, Quinn.”
“See, that’s the thing.” Her face brightened as she smiled. “Tearing down walls requires effort and will. I have neither, so I think your castle and you are safe.”
“Only time will tell.”
Chapter 7
Collin watched Quinn through the kitchen window as he passed along Quinn’s compliments on the cooking. Mavis’ husband, Angus, stood beside Collin, watching as Quinn held her phone up to the sky, as if looking for the best reception.
“You dinnae tell her it was best near the cliffs?” Angus asked.
“Nay.” Collin inwardly smiled. “It’s best to keep an eye on her the entire time she’s here, and I cannae see her if she goes over there.”
“This woman is wise, no’ to mention fierce, bringing Ian to his knees. She’ll figure out the best place for reception and the curse.” Mavis chuckled, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron. “Did you ask her what Ramsey found?”
“How do you know what Ramsey found?” Collin asked, turning to face the white-haired woman who’d practically raised him.
“Nothing can get by that woman. She knows all.” Angus nudged his arm.
“Well, have you asked her about it?” Mavis asked, not answering where she heard the rumor.
“Nay,” Collin answered, turning back to find Quinn was walking out of sight toward the corner of the castle, in the exact direction of the cliffs. Damn woman.
“It’s probably wise you leave the wounded animal alone. We all have a past, and she’s apparently lost someone she loved. If she thinks you’re attacking her, you’ll likely find that her bite is worse than her bark. No reason to anger the lassie if you donae have to. I hear she’s already causing a stir with Margarete.”
“Aye, that she has.” Collin inwardly smiled, not wanting to let on that he whole-heartedly approved of Quinn’s method.
“Probably for the best you keep Ms. Thatcher close and warn her about Margarete. There’s nothing like a woman scorned on the verge of losin’ the trophy she’s been eyeing.”
“I think Quinn can take her.”
“I’d lay odds on your American.” Angus nudged Collin’s arm again. “She’s a fine lass, indeed.”
“That she is,” Collin answered, heading out the back door to hunt for Quinn.
He rounded the edge of the castle’s stone walls, expecting to find Quinn standing at the cliff’s edge with the phone pressed against her ear. The rocky cliffs were empty, not a soul in sight.
“Quinn,” he yelled out. His gaze searched the nearby forest as he moved closer.
“Help.”
He heard the faint cry over the sound of waves crashing against the rocks.
“Quinn. Where are you, lass?” he yelled louder. His heart pounded against his ribs as unease coursed through his veins. His boots pounded against the packed dirt as he ran toward the rocky ledge.
“I’m down here,” she called out.
He skidded to a stop, knocking a rock over the edge. The rock smacked her in the middle of the forehead as her fingers clung to one of the smooth boulders. Her body dangled over the edge.
“I thought you said that I’d make men fall, not that I would be the one falling.”
Collin lay down on his stomach and held out both hands. “I’m going to pull you up. Give me your hand, Quinn.”
She shook her head. “If I let go, I’ll fall.”
Her fingertips were turning as white as her cheeks. “I’m coming down.”
Hopping up from his position, he moved to sit on his rear and then eased down the rocky ledge until his foot found purchase on one of the larger boulders below. Wrapping his fingers around her arm for a firm grip, he lifted her and pulled her toward him until he had her tightly in his arms, refusing to let her go. Her racing heart pounded against his chest as she looked up into his eyes. Color started to return to her cheeks as he held her close.
“Thanks for saving me.”
“You donae strike me as someone who needs saving, lass.”
Glancing over her shoulder to the sharp rocks below, she trembled in his hold. “I’m normally not. I think Scotland might be bad for my health.”
“Let’s get you back on stable ground and you can tell me what happened.” Collin lifted her light body at the waist and hoisted her toward the ledge. Placing his hands on her gorgeous jean-covered ass, he eased her over the ledge before hoisting himself back up.
Quinn was lying with her arms and legs spread wide on the grassy knoll. Her chest rose and fell as she stared up at the forming clouds above. “I thought I was a goner.”
Collin sat down next to her. “No’ on my watch. You want to tell me how you ended up down there?”
“I must have slipped,” Quinn said, worrying her lip between her teeth. He could tell she was holding something back. She rolled toward him. “When you came out, you dinnae see anyone around, did you?”
“Nay.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said, getting to her feet. She peered over the edge. “That brings all new meaning to the phrase dead phone.”
Collin got to his feet and glanced over the edge. Her phone lay in pieces on another rocky ledge about ten feet down. “You can use the phone in my office to make your calls.”
“Thanks.” She patted his chest. “I guess that makes us even on one account.”
“What’s that?”
“I saved your life from Margarete’s advances, and a possible loveless marriage to a woman who would never truly appreciate you, and in return you saved mine.”
She gave a saucy wink and started back toward the castle. Was everything a joke to this woman? She’d almost died, and yet she was…optimistic. Most women would have been crying in his arms. Not Quinn, he was learning…Never Quinn.
Collin glanced back once more to the busted phone. If he hadn’t followed her, she’d potentially be dead on the rock. Maybe the curse had been wrong. He’d turned to leave when he saw something sparkling on the ground beneath the leaves. He squatted and moved the leaves and dirt away. A broach was poking out of the ground. Running the pad of his thumb over the stone revealed a ruby beneath the grime. He’d seen this piece before but couldn’t for the life of him remember where. How it had managed to be in that spot was yet another puzzle in a string of mysteries to solve.
Chapter 8
Quinn was led into Collin’s office to make her calls. Leaning back against the wood doors, she rested her scraped hands against her knees, trying to slow her racing heart as blood pounded in her temples. Her annoyance spiraled when she noticed her hands and arms shaking. Her fall hadn’t been an accident like she’d let Collin believe. She hadn’t slipped or lost her balance. That had been a real hand pressed against her back, giving her a tiny shove in hopes of giving her an untimely demise. Someone with a heartbeat and body had tried to push her over the edge. Anger stirred in her belly with renewed fire. She clenched her jaw as her chest tightened. They didn’t know who they were dealing with, but with a little help, they’d soon find out.
She rounded the desk and sat in Collin’s worn leather chair. It was cool to the touch and smelled of mink oil and saddle soap, like the one in her father’s study. The furniture in Collin’s office matched the rest of the house, solid with class and a little hint of manly added to the mix. Quinn picked up the phone and dialed. Her sister, Cara, answered on the first ring.
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