by Katy Baker
Darcy laughed. Neither Rebecca nor Robert had mentioned her running away this morning and Darcy was profoundly grateful. She'd been dreading explaining herself to Robert but it appeared Rebecca had done that for her. She hoped she'd be able to repay these people's kindness somehow. Perhaps setting up her veterinary practice would help her do that.
After the meal Darcy returned to her room to change and refresh and then went looking for Quinn. He wasn't in the main hall or on the practice field. After asking around she was directed to the blacksmith's shop.
Darcy approached the building and stopped outside. It was growing dark and candlelight was spilling through the windows. The door to the cottage which stood next to the smithy was open and through it laughter floated out into the dusk.
Darcy halted at the open door. Inside she could see one large room with a fire merrily dancing in the hearth. Quinn was standing by the fireplace, holding a girl of about eight upside down by her ankles. The girl shrieked with mock outrage and three other children of varying ages clustered about Quinn howled with laughter. Quinn put the girl down and she scrambled up, laughing every bit as hard as her siblings.
A large man who Darcy guessed was the blacksmith sat at a well-scrubbed table. "Will ye leave Quinn alone ye little beasts?" the man said. "He canna walk through the door without ye all mobbing him!"
The children took no notice. One of them, a boy of about six, piped in a shrill voice, "Will ye come and see my cat, Quinn? She's having kits she is!"
Quinn leaned down and ruffled the boy's hair. "Aye, of course I'll come and see, William. Just let me have a word with yer da, first."
Quinn seated himself next to the big man who poured them both a dram of whisky. One of the children, a girl little more than a toddler, crawled into Quinn's lap. He wrapped one arm around her as she leaned back against him and went to sleep.
Darcy blinked. She felt like an intruder watching this homely scene. Was that really Quinn in there? Laughing and joking and playing with children like he had not a care in the world?
She had no right to intrude on this private moment. She turned to leave. But the smith's voice suddenly called, "Who's there?"
Darcy froze.
The children came pelting to the door. "It's that new lass!" the elder girl cried. "The one from America!"
Ah. It seemed everyone had heard about her.
Quinn passed the sleeping toddler to her father and came to the door. "Darcy? Is everything all right?"
Darcy found herself blushing. She felt stupid for coming over here. "Yes, of course. Everything's fine. I just-"
"Don't leave the lass standing out in the dark, Quinn!" the smith bellowed. "Bring her in!"
Darcy followed Quinn inside. The children went quiet, staring at this stranger with large eyes.
"Don't stare so, ye little monsters," their father chided them. "Have nae I taught ye better manners than that?"
The smith held out his hand for Darcy to shake. "I'm very pleased to meet ye, my lady. My name's Owen, and I'm the clan blacksmith."
Darcy shook his hand. It was rough and calloused from long days at the forge. "Very pleased to meet you, Owen. And please, call me Darcy."
"As ye say. Now, be seated, please. Quinn was just passing around the whisky again."
Quinn raised an eyebrow at Owen. "Ye are a devil, Owen MacFarlane," he said. "I've told ye I canna set to drinking tonight. I'm on early patrol in the morning."
Owen chuckled. "Aye, I know. Just one more then, to welcome our guest."
Darcy took the cup she was offered and sipped the whisky. It was so hot and fiery she almost choked. The children soon overcame their shyness and began firing a hundred questions at Darcy, so quick she could hardly keep up.
"Where's America?"
"Do they have kittens there?"
"Did ye ride yer horse over the sea?"
"Do ye live in a castle like this one?"
Darcy laughed at the onslaught. "Whoa!" she cried. "One at a time!"
She answered their questions patiently and then shifted along the table to allow the elder girl to set up a stones board which she insisted Darcy play with her.
"Ye've done it now," Quinn said. "Mary will have ye here for hours. Stones is her latest fad."
Mary stuck her tongue out at Quinn. "Ye just don't want to play because I always win!"
"Exactly," Quinn agreed. "Yer too clever for me by far, Mary."
Mary beamed at the compliment.
Darcy followed Mary's instructions and soon got the hang of the game. As they played, Darcy glanced at Quinn. He was sat back in his chair, the toddler on his lap, watching with a smile.
When she'd come to find Quinn tonight, this wasn't what she'd expected. He seemed different. Relaxed. Happy, even. He and Owen bantered back and forth like old friends, Owen's children butting in and demanding Quinn's attention which he gave with a smile and a laugh.
Just as predicted, Mary won the game of stones. The eight year old's obvious delight made Darcy smile.
"Quinn was right, Mary. You're just too smart for me."
"Best of three?" Mary asked hopefully.
Darcy held up her hands in surrender. "Oh, I think I've learned my lesson going up against you."
"Quinn!" William, the six year old whined. "Will ye come and see my cat now? Ye promised!"
Quinn laughed. "All right! I'll come. Here, Owen, take Martha, I dinna want to wake her."
He gave the toddler back to her father and rose. "Right, ye little terror. Where's this cat of yers?"
"This way!" cried William, spinning towards the door. "Will ye come too, Lady Darcy? Will ye?"
"Of course," said Darcy, pushing back her chair.
William grabbed her hand and led her and Quinn round to the smithy. Tucked in the corner of the room was a blanket-filled box. A large orange tabby lay inside.
"Isn't she grand?" William beamed. "I reckon she's gonna have ten kits at least!"
Darcy crouched by the cat. She looked to be a good body weight and her eyes and ears were clean. She purred loudly as William stroked her.
"Ten?" Darcy said. "I'm betting on eleven!"
"Ye reckon? Da! Lady Darcy reckons Tabs will have eleven kits!" William went racing off to tell his father this momentous news.
Darcy straightened. Quinn was leaning against one of the workbenches with his arms crossed, watching her with a small smile on his face.
"It seems ye have a way with children as well as beasts, lass."
"I could say the same for you," Darcy replied. "You were a natural with Owen's children. I never would have believed it."
Quinn shrugged. "I've known them their whole lives. I was apprenticed to Owen for many years. When his wife died I became something of a surrogate older brother to the little uns."
"You're a blacksmith?" she asked, surprised.
"Was," Quinn corrected her. "I dinna have the time to practise these days." He cocked his head at her. "I didnae expect to see ye here tonight. Why did ye come, lass?"
Darcy glanced at him and away again. "I...um...I..." She pulled in a deep breath and schooled herself to calmness. Why did he make her thoughts flutter like this? Dratted man! "I came to apologize."
He lifted an eyebrow and she could swear he looked amused. "Apologize?"
Darcy frowned. Trust him to make this harder for her. She plowed on regardless. "For this morning. I gave no thought to the effect it might have on you, on the clan. Especially after what happened to your brother. I'm sorry, Lily told me. Quinn, why didn't you tell me?”
He was silent for a long time and Darcy began to wonder if she'd overstepped the mark by mentioning his brother. But then he sighed.
"It was three years ago but it still feels like yesterday. Duncan and I were on the road when we were attacked by John de Clare and his men. He wanted revenge on Duncan because he'd exposed him to the king for taking bribes in return for favors at court. Cost de Clare his land and title - almost his life. So de Clare killed Duncan in
an ambush. I couldn't save him. Until then I’d never taken my warrior training seriously ye see. I was the youngest of three brothers and my life was destined for the forge. If I had been a better warrior things might have turned out differently. Since then I know I've become a little... what's the word? Stern? Brooding? They're the words Rebecca uses. She's always telling Robert and I to put it behind us. But, Lord, it's hard."
"But not here?" Darcy asked, gesturing at the smithy around them. "You seem so different when you're here. Carefree. Happy."
"Aye, well, I loved being a smith. I loved taking an ordinary piece of metal and creating something wonderful. They say that warriors earn all the glory. I disagree. It's the craftsmen that deserve our songs. They're the ones who create beauty."
"But now you're the leader of the clan's warriors and heir to the lairdship. And you never wanted either position?"
From the tightening of his jaw Darcy knew she'd guessed right. His hand, resting lightly on his thigh, curled into a fist. "Aye. Something like that. I have a duty. To protect my people. My clan. I willnae let what happened to Duncan happen to anyone else."
Darcy didn't reply. She found herself staring at him. This man was such a tangled up ball of emotions. She didn't know what to make of him.
Quinn pushed off the bench. "I've got something for ye, lass. Follow me."
He led Darcy to the back of the shop. A wrapped bundle was sitting on the bench surrounded by tools. Quinn picked up the bundle and held it out to Darcy.
"For me?" Darcy asked, taking the package. It was heavier than she expected. "What is it?"
"Something to keep ye safe," Quinn said. "Especially if yer gonna insist on more escapades like this morning."
Ignoring his jibe, she unwrapped the bundle to reveal a long dagger. The handle had been carved into the semblance of a wolf. It was beautiful.
"You made this?" she asked.
"Aye," Quinn replied. "I've been working on it for a while, not sure who I would give it to. Seems I was making it for ye without knowing it. Do ye like it? I can change the handle it you dinna-"
"It's perfect," Darcy breathed. "Beautiful."
She ran her hand over the handle, feeling the detail of the running wolf. It was exquisite. No wonder Quinn missed working the forge when he had skills like this.
"I thought the handle did suit ye," Quinn said. "As brave and fierce as one of the noble creatures. A little she-wolf."
Darcy looked up to find he'd stepped closer and was looking down at her, his eyes deep and mesmerizing. Longing flashed through Darcy.
"Quinn, I-"
He cupped her face in one hand and kissed her.
Darcy's eyes slid closed. She melted into his embrace as his arms encircled her. His kiss deepened, growing hungry. Darcy’s thoughts scattered as desire raced along her nerves.
Then he suddenly broke away, stepping back and leaving Darcy dazed and breathless. He shook his head as if to clear it.
"Darcy, I'm sorry," he murmured. "I shouldnae have done that. I don't know what came over me."
The mask was coming down again. The stern warrior replacing the carefree blacksmith.
"Don't I get a say in this?" Darcy said, exasperated. "You think I'd let you kiss me if I didn't want it?"
He frowned. "Ye don't know what yer saying. Yer confused, a long way from home and I have duties. I'm bound to my clan, while yer-"
"An outsider?" she finished for him angrily.
"That's not what I meant, lass." He scrubbed a hand through his hair and blew out his cheeks. "Look, let me escort ye back to yer room."
"Don't worry," Darcy snapped. "I can find my own way back."
She spun on her heel and stomped out of the smithy. All the way back to the castle she seethed with a mixture of hurt and anger. She was angry with Quinn for blowing hot and cold but most of all she was angry with herself. She was angry she'd started letting down her defenses. Insufferable man! Who the hell did he think he was playing with her emotions like this?
She clutched the dagger to her chest. A gift. Why had he given it to her? Did he even realize how confusing he was? Darcy pressed her mouth into a tight, flat line and made a promise to herself. No more of this. It would be better for everyone if she kept out of Quinn MacFarlane’s way.
QUINN WATCHED DARCY disappear into the night. He wrapped his arms around himself as if cold. He longed to run after her, take her into his arms and kiss her into submission.
Which is exactly why he didn't move.
He couldn't go down this road. Darcy turned his world on its head. When she was around he couldn't think straight. One minute he was annoyed, the next he was breathless with longing. She filled his thoughts every minute and turned his emotions into a tangled knot. He couldn't allow it. Now, more than ever, he had to be focused, clear-headed. The clan was in real danger from de Clare and his men and it was Quinn's duty to keep them safe.
And besides, Darcy had made it clear she would be going home the second she got the chance. Where would that leave Quinn?
No, he thought. I have to stay away from her. Being close is too dangerous.
Dougal was taking a long range scouting trip out tomorrow morning. They'd be gone for days at least, maybe weeks. Perfect. Quinn would volunteer to join them. Some time away was exactly what he needed. Maybe that would help him forget Darcy Greenway.
Chapter 11
"WHAT ARE YE THINKING of?" Rebecca asked. "Ye look like yer miles away.”
Darcy startled and pulled her gaze away from the window. Gray rain sheeted down outside, obscuring the castle grounds and everything else within more than a few feet. It had been this way for days.
"Oh, nothing," Darcy lied. In truth, she was thinking of him again. It seemed that staring at the rain and thinking about Quinn took up most of her time recently.
She'd not seen him since the incident at the forge, over a week ago.
She missed him. Oh, she'd never admit that to him of course, pig-headed idiot that he was.
"Come on then. Try again."
Darcy sighed. "I'm never going to get the hang of this."
"Oh, ye will!" Rebecca said in a stern voice. "Ye just have to keep practicing."
Darcy pursed her lips, concentrating on the words in front of her and then carefully read the Gaelic sentence aloud, pronouncing each word slowly and deliberately.
Rebecca grinned. "Ye don't want to know what ye just said. I'm not sure it's polite to repeat it in civilized company!"
"See?" Darcy snapped the book shut with a thump. "I'll never get the hang of Gaelic."
"I don't believe it's really the difficulties of our language that have ye on edge this morning, my friend. Am I right? Is it not the presence, or lack thereof, of one certain dark-haired brute?"
God, was she that obvious?
"Of course not," she said indignantly. "Quinn's an idiot!"
"Ye'll get no argument from me there! But tell me, what's he done to ye for ye to arrive at the same conclusion?"
Rebecca's face was all innocent curiosity. For a moment Darcy longed to tell her everything. About the amazing kiss she and Quinn had shared. About the way her skin turned to flame when his lips touched hers. About the way her stomach twisted when he was near.
And about the way Quinn had rejected her.
That hurt more than anything and Darcy was annoyed with herself for feeling that way. After all, she was going home wasn't she? As soon as she found a way to find the stone arch again, she'd be gone. So why was she hurt by the way Quinn had reacted? And if he really felt nothing for her then why did he give her that dagger?
It was all very confusing.
Rebecca was watching her expectantly, head cocked to one side.
"Nothing," she mumbled. "It's nothing."
Rebecca sighed but didn't push the issue. She shifted uncomfortably, placing one hand on her swollen belly. A spasm of pain passed over her face.
"Are you all right?" Darcy said, laying a hand on her friends arm.
&
nbsp; "I'm fine," Rebecca replied. "It's this little devil. He seems to find it highly amusing to kick his mother whenever he gets the chance."
Darcy laughed. "What have the midwives said?"
"Any day now," Rebecca replied. "And it can't come soon enough!"
Darcy patted her friend's arm comfortingly. She looked around the room. They were in the castle's library, up in the east corner. It was a square room hung with heavy drapes at the windows. Shelves lined the walls packed to bursting with books and scrolls and documents of all kinds. The clan's history and genealogies were kept up here, along with the accounts and records, for which Rebecca as the laird's wife was responsible. Rebecca had offered to begin teaching Darcy Gaelic and Darcy had jumped at the chance. Anything to keep her busy.
Darcy's eyes fell on a stack of rolled-up parchments sitting on a shelf.
"What are those?"
"Maps," Rebecca replied, still stroking her belly. "Of our holdings, our neighbors holdings, and just about anywhere else Robert could get his hands on. He's got a thing about maps."
"Can I see them?" Darcy asked, feeling a stab of excitement.
Rebecca waved a hand. "Be my guest but they're not very interesting."
Darcy crossed over to the bookshelf. She pulled one of the maps down and unrolled it on the big table under the window. It showed a faded line drawing of the MacFarlane estate. Dunbreggan sat in the middle and the land roundabout was divided by lines which indicated each crofter's parcel of land and was labeled with names indicating who worked it.
Darcy leaned forward, biting her lip as she concentrated, scanning the map. The loch was clearly marked and she ran her finger along the shoreline, hoping to find the stone arch labeled somewhere. It wasn't.
Rebecca heaved herself out of her chair and waddled over. "What are ye looking for?"
A magic arch that will take me back to the twenty-first century, Darcy thought. But aloud she said, "Nothing in particular. I'm just interested in the geography around here."
