Smitten by the Spinster

by Cassidy Cayman

  Lizzie looked up abruptly from the unpacking. The poor girl looked frightened out of her wits, when she should have been eager and excited. She probably wished she was back on her farm. As much as she dreaded having to spend time with the brother, it would most likely be for the best to have him around. A sense of familiarity and comfort.

  “There’s nothing lacking about you, Catriona,” she said fiercely, thinking of all the agents and casting directors who’d ever made her feel inadequate. She held up a brown dress and grinned at her then. “But your clothes could use some help. Would you like to visit the dressmaker tomorrow?”

  Once again the young girl’s face was transformed by her radiant smile. “I would,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her.

  Lizzie suppressed the twinge she felt in her heart region, unsure why this particular young lady was making her feel all soppy and protective. Probably because she wasn’t a terrible, monstrous spoiled brat. The last girl she’d squired about town looking for a husband had pinched her incessantly and pretended to cry over every tiny thing that didn’t go her way. She didn’t know who she felt more sorry for, that little harridan or the money grubbing lecher she’d ended up engaged to.

  “We shall go first thing. In fact I’m going to send the messenger to Lady Amberly’s dressmaker this evening so she’ll be ready for us. I think rose would look lovely with your coloring, maybe some cream and pale lavender as well.”

  Catriona’s eyes shone with fashion lust, just her kind of girl. Perhaps these next few months wouldn’t be so horrible, the brother notwithstanding. They’d just make him stand outside the shops and hold their purchases. He’d be running back to Scotland soon enough.

  “My brother promised to let me buy a new bonnet every time he swears,” she leaned close to confide. “And he swears a lot.”

  Lizzie closed her eyes. Of course he did.

  Chapter 4

  Dinner went remarkably better than Lizzie could have hoped. While still a bit shy, Catriona had perfect table manners and a likeable, demure air about her. Lady Amberly was still in her tailspin trip down memory lane and after a few glasses of wine, mostly dominated the conversation with stories about what a wild girl her sister had been. It got a little bit uncomfortable near dessert when she told the story of how she’d ended up running off with a drunken Scot to spite their father. Lady Amberly didn’t seem to recall the same drunken Scot who featured in her story was Catriona’s father. Even then, Catriona had just nodded and smiled, though a bit tremulously. After dinner, Lizzie pointed out how tired Catriona looked and she latched onto the suggestion, agreeing with an exaggerated yawn.

  “Then you must go to sleep child, especially as Miss Burnet has arranged for you to visit the dressmaker first thing.”

  When asked if she would be joining them, Lady Amberly fanned herself and shook her head, looking as if the thought of stepping out onto the London streets might kill her instantly. Lizzie didn’t know how she would handle their first party. The nervous woman hadn’t left the house since she arrived, and sadly hadn’t even had one visitor. She’d been holed up in the country so long, no one remembered her.

  Lizzie walked with Catriona to her bedroom and showed her how to ring for a maid. She said goodnight and was about to leave, but the dejected look on Catriona’s face made her pause and ask if there was anything else she could do for her.

  Her previous charges had all been on their home turf, and had been so built up by their doting mothers, they never would have considered doubting themselves. Catriona was alone in a strange new environment, and had been raised by two roughneck brothers and an elderly aunt.

  “Was it difficult hearing stories about your mother and father?” she asked, hoping she didn’t cause offense.

  “I didna mind the stories,” she said. “In truth I dinna remember either, and I’m glad to find out what my ma was truly like. Lachlan and Quinn speak of her like she was a misused angel, but ye know how it can be when a loved one is gone? Ye never really hear the truth.” She sighed and shrugged, a wry smile making her look older than her years. “Except of course with my da it is the complete opposite. I never hear anything good about him.”

  “Everyone has a bit of good in them. Your mother saw it,” Lizzie said, feeling well out of her depth. “My parents died when I was very small,” she continued, not sure why she felt the desire to share, perhaps orphan solidarity. “In a … carriage accident. My grandmother raised me all on her own.”

  Catriona gave her a look of understanding. “I dinna know whether to say it’s a shame ye didna have brothers, or if ye were lucky.”

  Lizzie laughed. “You’re definitely the lucky one, Catriona.” To her surprise, the girl threw her arms around her and gave her a quick hug, retreating before she could think to return it.

  “Ye must remember ye said that when ye meet him tomorrow,” she said, her eyes brighter than when they’d first come up.

  Lizzie was glad she’d stayed a few minutes to make sure she was all right, and made her way to her room with a warm feeling that almost blocked out the dread of meeting the brother the next day.

  ***

  They were in the sitting room the next morning, waiting for the carriage to be brought around for their trip to the dressmaker, when Quinn Ferguson was finally announced. Catriona breathed a gusty sigh of relief and bounced out of her seat when she caught a glimpse of him following Franklin through the door.

  Lizzie steeled herself for the worst and glanced up from her embroidery to await her introduction. And kept glancing up, and up and up. Goodness, he was tall. It took her forever to reach his face. And then she had to adjust her jaw, because she felt it drop almost to her chest.

  The man was handsome. Seriously gorgeous. She blinked, sure she must be overreacting, a side effect of not getting any action for more than a year. When he came further into the room and nearly made her lose consciousness with his smile, she could see her impoverished libido wasn’t deceiving her. She didn’t think she’d be able to stand to greet him when his dark blue eyes fixed on her. She certainly wouldn’t be able to rise out of a curtsy, as her legs were definitely turning to jelly under his continued perusal.

  His golden brown hair fell in luxurious waves nearly to his incredibly broad shoulders. His chiseled jaw was clean shaven, not covered with a gross mountain man beard like she had imagined. And his tall, muscular body wasn’t swathed in a ratty old kilt, but stylish buff breeches hugged his powerful thighs and a dark navy jacket was buttoned smartly across his strong chest.

  She felt like she might be ill. This was the man she was going to have to continually deal with for the coming months? This was her charge’s brother? Her heart skipped a beat when he was fully in, dominating the small room with his massive body. She swallowed hard, fearing she might actually drool.

  With a start, she jerked her head to see Lady Amberly’s reaction to this hunky specimen. Her husband was not only cruel, but bald, liver-spotted and toothpick legged, and she was a sucker for a handsome man. And this one was handsome with a capital H. Lizzie didn’t doubt Lady Amberly would start embroidering him a new waistcoat straight away.

  And she wasn’t disappointed. Lady Amberly’s mouth was open, her eyes nearly crossed at the magnificent portion of man meat that was in front of her. Lizzie almost felt sorry for her, since her husband treated her like dung when he condescended to notice her at all. Lady Amberly had probably gone even longer than herself without the attentions of a man.

  Catriona finished the introductions and they both still gawked at him. Lizzie recovered and stood, dropping a quick curtsy, unable to take her eyes off his face. He gallantly took her hand and nodded before turning back to Lady Amberly.

  “Laird Quinn Ferguson, how lovely to meet you at last,” she said, glancing wildly at Lizzie.

  “You’ve come just in time to join us at the dressmaker’s if you’d like, sir,” she said calmly.

  Yes, the man was handsome and tall and built like a brick wall
she wouldn’t mind climbing, but she had to stay focused. This was her charge’s brother, essentially her employer. This was the eighteenth century. She needed to keep her eyes up. Even as she offered these self recriminations, her eyes slid down to the front of his breeches and she had to press her lips together hard to keep from groaning. Why couldn’t he have worn a baggy, tattered old kilt? His breeches fit him far too well. How was she going to concentrate, following him around all day? The view was probably just as spectacular from the back.

  “Aye, of course. I should be glad to be of help to ye,” he said and she cursed his deep, melodic burr. Stupid sexy Scottish accents. He was supposed to talk like he had a mouth full of sheep’s wool and be barely intelligible.

  “I trust your hotel is agreeable?” she asked.

  “Aye, the Fox Inn was recommended by our coach driver. It’s quite as good as any I’ve stayed at,” he said.

  “Oh my goodness, about that,” Lady Amberly piped up, untying her tongue at last. “It certainly cannot be as agreeable as staying here as our guest. Lord Amberly would be most displeased to know we’d let family stay at an inn. And such a substandard one at that. I’m sure you were just being polite, as I’ve heard that the Fox Inn isn’t agreeable at all.”

  Lizzie looked at Lady Amberly. Was she out of her mind? Now he was family? Quinn frowned, unsure of how to proceed, but Catriona clapped her hands.

  “Oh, that would be so lovely to have him near, Auntie,” she said, causing a fresh welling of tears to rise in Lady Amberly’s eyes.

  “We’re so happy to have Catriona with us at last,” she gushed. “You must stay, for her.”

  “Verra well, and I thank ye,” he said.

  “Erm, Quinn,” Catriona said, leaning on his arm and gazing up at him with sisterly pride. “Can ye please let them know it’s all right to call me Catie? Miss Burnet insists it’s proper to call me by my whole name, but it’s quite tiring. Can ye tell her ye always call me Catie?”

  Quinn looked over his sister’s head and caught her eye, a knowing twinkle in his. Once again she pressed her lips together, hoping she’d get used to the dazzle of his presence before she fainted from lack of oxygen.

  Well, Catriona,” he said, still looking at Lizzie, his rich voice going straight through her. “Ye must do whatever your chaperone says, as she is in charge of ye while we’re in London.” He winked at her, nearly knocking her back a step, before turning to Lady Amberly. “And your auntie as well, of course. What they say goes, lass.”

  Catriona lost her look of sisterly pride and humphed. Lizzie didn’t want her glowing image of the girl ruined by a tantrum, and suggested they be on their way. With Quinn accompanying them, they needn’t wait for the carriage, but could enjoy the crisp morning air. Really, the thought of being pressed up against him in the carriage, or sitting across from him, with the chance that their knees might touch, was too much for her senses at the moment. She and Catriona could walk ahead of him and he could follow, unseen and unable to turn her into a babbling puddle of goo.

  ***

  Quinn followed behind his sister and her chaperone, glad to be left alone with his thoughts. He tried to keep his eyes on the sights of London, the dirty streets and loud, brash vendors standing outside their stalls and shops. But they kept resting on the trim, curvy backside of Miss Lizzie Burnet. He had to admit he’d pictured someone skeletal, with thin wisps of tangled hair and claw-like hands, a permanent scowl etched into her gaunt face. He laughed at himself, having pictured the description of a banshee from Catie’s nurse’s stories when they were younger.

  Skeletal and gaunt were not ways he’d ever describe the wee spinster who now sashayed distractingly in front of him. No, he liked her proportions just fine. And her face was friendly and rosy, not a hint of a scowl, though, if he wasn’t mistaken, he thought he saw a hint of mischief in her smile. She’d certainly saved him from spending the morning visiting with Catie’s aunt, who looked like she wanted to eat him up with a spoon.

  Catie kept turning around to point things out to him and he nodded indulgently at her, letting her excited chatter wash over him like a waterfall. So, this was London. Did she belong here? Only time would tell, but so far, it didn’t seem so terribly evil to him, rude English and all.

  Just as he was about to say so to her, a miniature ruffian ran across his path, being chased by a portly man with a cane. The man stopped in front of Quinn, puffing for breath.

  “That urchin stole from me,” he yelled, tossing his cane at the lad. It bounced off his head, causing a yelp of pain but not slowing his steps.

  Seeing Catie and Miss Burnet looking wide eyed at the scene, he decided to show his heroic nature and took four long strides, grabbing the wee thief by the scruff of his neck and dragging him back to the old man.

  The man hurried to retrieve his cane, then took the boy roughly by the arm, wrenching him from Quinn’s grasp and hauling him away with barely a backward glance, let alone any thanks. As he was dragged past, the lad kicked him hard in the shin, splattering mud all over his newly polished boots.

  “Well, bugger,” he said, staring at the ungrateful man and the struggling criminal. The lad tossed him a rude hand gesture before he was jerked around the corner, hopefully to be beaten.

  Catie giggled and Miss Burnet looked like she was trying not to. “We feel verra much safer out here with ye, Quinn,” his sister said. “That lad looked to be about ten years old, aye? And dead accurate with his kicks.”

  A string of swear words slipped out before he could stop himself. It irritated him so badly he swore once more for good measure.

  Catie whipped around, a look of triumph on her face. “Did ye hear him, Miss Burnet? That was three at least. He must buy me three things, whatever I choose.”

  “Catie, lass, that isna how we’re counting it. It was one instance, so therefore ye get one thing.”

  “Aha, did ye hear him call me Catie?” She turned to Miss Burnet, who still looked like she was holding back laughter, and doing a poor job of it.

  He glowered at her, hoping she’d be easy to intimidate, and surprisingly pleased when she very clearly was not intimidated by him. At all.

  The cheeky spinster turned to his sister and nodded. “Very well, Catie, if that’s what you prefer to be called.”

  “And you heard three foul curses, aye? The one instance nonsense wasna agreed upon beforehand, so I believe he owes me three things.”

  Lizzie looked him up and down, but he turned his dark glower on Catie this time.

  “Actually, Catie, I heard four foul curses. It was quite distressing. And Mr. Ferguson, you did say I was in charge as long as you were in London, did you not?” She turned and smiled at him, a smile that could only be described as sensuous.

  A shudder of desire coursed through him as she continued to stare him down. He licked his bottom lip and she quickly looked away. That was better. It helped him get his equilibrium back when she wasn’t looking directly at him, especially when she had such a playful look in her eyes. What possible games could Miss Burnet want to play with him, he wondered.

  “Verra well, Catie, go ahead and empty my coffers.” He glanced back at Lizzie. “She’ll run roughshod over ye,” he warned. He knew Catie was just bedevilling him and would choose four wee biscuits or some other silly things that only cost a few pence.

  “I’ll take my chances,” she said, her voice husky and far too close to him.

  How had she moved so close to him? He could reach out and touch her. No, he couldn’t. He’d already cursed, he couldn’t flirt with Catie’s chaperone only seconds later. He shook his head and stepped back.

  “Let’s be on our way before we’re the next victims in this crime ridden city,” he said gruffly, making shooing motions at them.

  “I feel confident that will never be the case with you around, Mr. Ferguson,” she said.

  “Aye, he’d snap the necks of anyone who tried anything with us,” Catie agreed wholeheartedly, and he was gratifi
ed she was back to liking him again, but he wished she wouldn’t paint him in such a savage light. Miss Burnet turned around and raised a brow at him.

  He rolled his eyes. “I’d only crack their heads a bit.”

  She quickly faced forward and he could swear she was trying to hide her laughter. Quinn didn’t know what to make of that at all. She should have been horrified, even though he was clearly joking. Most ladies didn’t find threats of cracked heads amusing. There was something about her he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but she seemed familiar to him somehow.

  They arrived at the dressmaker’s shop and he crammed himself into a corner while the proprietress fawned all over Catie. He was glad to see she took it in stride and gracefully accepted all the outrageous compliments. To him, his sister was one of the loveliest lasses he’d ever seen. Her usually sweet personality and lighthearted ways transformed her into a true beauty.

  Miss Burnet barked orders and called out colors and names of fabrics with as much zeal as any leader he’d ever seen in battle. He folded himself into a dainty velvet upholstered chair, praying it wouldn’t snap under his weight, and settled in to enjoy the show. She pulled out a long swathe of some sort of airy, see-through fabric, and as it flew around her in the air, she caught his eye and winked at him before turning to drape it across Catie’s shoulders. It happened so quickly, he wasn’t quite sure he hadn’t imagined it. What was it about the lass that made him think he knew her?

  The bell on the door clanged as a harried footmen burst through, ducking into a bow before apologizing in every direction.

  “I do beg you ladies’ pardon, but Miss Burnet, please will you come with me?”

  Miss Burnet looked upset by the summons and cleared her throat, looking first at Catie, then nervously at him.

  Quinn stood up. “What’s this about?” he asked.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “What is it, William?” She turned back to Quinn. “He works with my uncle.”