“I have nothing in particular to tell,” she said, feeling a twinge. “You may see good as well as bad. But you must look for yourself.”
“Aye, that’s wise. I shall speak to Catie right now, before we gather for the evening.” He quickly pressed her hand and gave her a wry smile, nodding behind him at a chessboard on the table. “I should rather have a quiet game with ye, than what we’re certain to be put through.”
“I’m sure it’ll be lovely,” she said, but silently agreeing that spending a few quiet hours alone with him sounded heavenly.
When she’d gone to borrow the jewelry, Lady Hollingsborn had told her she would be sleeping downstairs with the servants, and any other time the sting would have been worse than any wasp could deliver. Today, she merely pushed down the slight humiliation she felt and smiled sweetly at the smug woman. Perhaps she wouldn’t have anything to be so smug about soon, and would have to start a fresh hunt for a different heiress. Lizzie told herself she didn’t care and vowed not to find out from any old social registers when she made it back to her own time.
Feeling she’d done the best she could, her heart was as light as it was going to get. She gave Catie an extravagant hairstyle, glad to see she seemed in a better mood than before her nap. However, she didn’t seem in any mood to share what she and Quinn talked about and Lizzie found she could barely contain her curiosity.
As soon as dinner was over and everyone gathered together again for the impromptu musical entertainment, she began hissing questions at Quinn, practically pulling his head into her lap so Catie wouldn’t hear.
“How did your conversation with Catie go?”
He grinned at her eagerness, then shook his head. “She’s quite angry with me,” he confessed. “Again. It’s a good lesson not to have children really, as it seems there is no making them happy.”
He scowled at his sister over her head and she turned to see Catie returning the look with heaping helpings of venom. After she made a show of sitting down next to Edwin, causing a muscle to nearly burst in Quinn’s jaw, he finally settled into telling her how badly the conversation went.
“It seems she is determined to marry him,” he said sourly. “I canna outright forbid it, as I have no reason to do so.” He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, wincing at the first strains of the musician’s instruments warming up.
Say something, the annoying little voice in her head urged, all the while making her chest ache with some odd emotion she didn’t want to identify.
“Give it a day or two,” Lizzie said. “She’s emotional today, and the rain has thrown everyone off.”
“We are from the Highlands, lass,” he reminded her incredulously. “A wee bit of weather has never put her in such a state before.”
Lizzie hid her smile behind her hand. “Well, love can make you quite mad.”
His eyes widened at that unsavory thought. “I pray it hasna come to that. I shall keep an eye on him as ye suggested. Perhaps he’ll get drunk and pick a fight and give me a reason to deny his claim.” He stared at the back of Edwin’s head.
“Yes, or perhaps he’ll give you reason to believe he’s a good match for Catie,” she said. “Don’t propose a game of cards, though. It’s said he’s not very good at them.” She tried to keep a neutral face as Quinn’s expression turned thoughtful. If she planted the seed, he could find out from any loose tongued gossip just how bad a gambler Edwin was.
“I dinna mind an easy win,” he said. “If he cares to part with his money, I’m happy to take it from him.”
Lizzie had to look away to hide her eye roll. Quinn was as bad as Edwin when it came to gambling, and he was being positively thick headed. None of her hints were getting through that golden-maned skull of his and she didn’t know how she could be any more obvious.
“You’re incorrigible,” she laughed.
“Aye, it’s been said,” he agreed.
When Edwin’s mother suggested the older guests retire for the night, Lizzie saw the shameless gleam in her eye. The unprincipled woman probably thought a few unsupervised hours would throw Catie and Edwin closer together, perhaps even into something compromising.
Lizzie felt a sick jolt of shock, hoping that wasn’t the reason she’d been ignominiously moved down to the servant’s quarters. No, surely not. At any rate, she’d warn Catie to make sure her door was firmly locked, maybe even risk scaring her into pushing a chair in front of it until morning.
Her concern was cut off by Quinn taking her by the shoulders and whirling her into his arms for a dance. With a gasp, she pulled away and quickly looked around. It was like any hedonistic house party she’d ever been to in the twenty-first century, with couples swaying in each other’s arms, and loud boisterous laughter from every direction. One of the guests plinked out a tune on the harpsichord, but it could barely be heard over the din. Thankfully, Catie was safe, chatting with a group of young ladies. Lizzie turned to Quinn, who smiled down at her, his eyes bright against his slightly flushed cheeks. He licked his lips and she felt herself do the same. The happy gleam in the blue of his eyes turned to something else, something infinitely more wicked.
“Dance with me, Miss Burnet?” he asked with a bow. “I do so like holding ye in my arms.”
Had she just imagined him saying such a thing? And the look in his eyes? She’d only had one glass of wine since dinner, but felt tipsy nonetheless from his nearness. Before she could answer either way, he swept her close to his chest, swaying seductively, his smile questioning. She knew she should haughtily inform him that he was drunk, and push away, but instead reached up to rest her hands on his broad shoulders and returned the smile.
“It’s only a dance,” she sighed against his chest, thinking he wouldn’t hear.
“Aye, only a dance,” he assured, pulling her tighter against him.
The inner turmoil that she thought she might dodge for once, pounced out at her, attacking with its sharpest knives. It told her to collect Catie and go upstairs without delay, barricade her in her room and then hide out in the servant’s wing until morning, when the roads would hopefully be passable and they could get back to normal.
But you’re going home in a few days, she told herself as she rested her cheek against his solid chest. His fingers ran down the middle of her back and rested at her waist. She wanted his hands to keep moving downward and slid her arms around his neck. He looked down at her with a tender smile. What could it hurt to indulge?
Yes, you’re going home in a few days, she repeated to herself, this time with a new, harsh tone to her thoughts. And when you get back, he’ll have been dead for hundreds of years. That line of thinking tore through her painfully and she quickly shied away from it.
She tilted her head back to return his smile, then leaned close again, feeling how warm and alive and now he was. She was sick of waiting to get her life back and wanted to live in the moment for the first time in more than a year. At that very second she didn’t care if she never got back to her own time, content for once right where she was.
Lizzie tipped her chin up again and saw Quinn looking over her head, a frown on his face. He set her away from him, causing her to sway at the loss of his big, strong body. She turned around to see what he scowled at. A few of the boys had begun a game of cards in the corner and boisterously called out wagers and challenges. Her stomach turned over to see Edwin heading that way.
“I think I should go see what he’s about,” Quinn said, absently taking her hand in his. “Do ye agree?”
She did not agree, but even with his thumb moving back and forth against her palm, her good sense returned. Really, what had she planned on doing? She needed distance from him, and fast, because she had been that close to making a fool of herself.
“This will be the perfect opportunity to see if Lord Hollingsborn is a gambling wastrel,” he said, clearly excited about the prospect of finding fault with Edwin.
Were her feelings hurt? She found that they were, a little. She’d been about to
, what? Offer herself to him, and all he wanted to do was go spy on his future brother-in-law? Or worse, win some money off him? She felt so stupid, she had to sit down. With a grimace of shame, she waved him away.
“Go get him,” she said, as she made her way to the bank of chairs set up on the other side of the room.
She spent a while sitting alone, sipping at some wine and trying to get a grip, keeping up a mental stream of contempt toward herself until she was exhausted. Quinn clearly had a reputation, this was something she knew from Catie’s hints, and with his extreme level of good looks, of course he got action wherever he went. She was a dalliance, nothing more.
She felt more hurt and outrage as she watched him throwing back drinks at the gaming table. He didn’t give a whit about her. She might as well have been one of the maids. In fact, he’d probably been sleeping with a steady supply of maids since he’d got to London. She accepted another glass of wine and wracked her brain, trying to remember if any of the girls at the Amberly’s house seemed especially smug or satisfied during the last weeks. Her fists curled in her lap. For some reason, the possibility made her even angrier, and the fact that it did made her angrier still. As if she cared who Quinn was with.
Edwin skidded to a halt in front of her chair. She looked up at him in surprise, wondering why he wasn’t at the gaming tables anymore.
“Miss Burnet, please come at once,” he said. “Miss Ferguson is ill and asking for you.”
She bolted after him to the veranda, only pausing for a moment to wonder why they were out there in the first place, and shaking her head at the fine job Quinn had done at keeping an eye on Edwin. He was so wrapped up in his games, he didn’t even notice the two sneaking off to a romantic, secluded location.
Catie stood huddled by a potted pear tree, pale and grim. Her look of relief at seeing Lizzie made her feel a little better. For the last few days, Catie had been acting distant and moody, and Lizzie couldn’t figure out what she’d done to upset her. She hurried to her side and took her by the arm.
“Catie, dear, what’s wrong?”
Catie leaned against her. “Too much wine, perhaps. Please dinna tell Quinn. I only want to get to sleep.”
Lizzie shooed the hovering Edwin away and led Catie to her room and helped her undress. She stoked the fire herself and poured a glass of water to set on the bedside table, then tucked Catie tightly under the covers.
“Oh I forgot. You’ll have to get up and lock the door behind me,” she said.
Catie closed her eyes and Lizzie pulled the blankets back off her. “I’m quite serious, Catie. Everyone has had far too much to drink. You must lock the door behind me and push a chair against it as well. Open if for no one in the night.”
Her eyes flew open. “Am I in danger?” she asked.
“Most likely not, but I’d rather err on the side of caution. Would you rather I stay with you tonight?”
Catie sighed and swung her legs over the side of the bed, hoisting herself up as if it was the greatest chore. “I’ll lock the door and push the chair in front of it,” she said.
Lizzie felt her cheeks flame at the dismissal, and searched her face for an answer to why she’d started disliking her. She knew she shouldn’t care, that Catie was her charge and nothing more. The last girl she’d worked for had hated her outright to the point of physically harming her with pinches and slaps and that had barely irritated her, not twisted her heart like Catie’s eagerness to be rid of her did.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, not wanting to leave.
She wanted to make things right, and make sure Catie stayed safe through the night. She patted her arm and gave a smile which wasn’t returned.
“Good night, Miss Burnet,” Catie said.
Lizzie waited to hear the click of the lock and nodded when she also heard the scraping of the chair being dragged over, a soft thunk as Catie pushed it against the door.
Not at all wanting to return to the party, she wound her way down the back stairs, trying to find the room she was supposed to share with another of the servants. That girl would probably kick her in the night for taking up her bed, and the bed would probably be hard and lumpy, and there might not even be a fire in the room.
Lizzie walked slower, actually dragging her feet, and was disconcerted to find tears in her eyes. Of all the things to make her cry, it ended up being the prospect of an uncomfortable night’s sleep. That showed her exactly what sort of person she was. The hallway was dark and she had half a mind to hunker down against the wall and have a good cry, really wallow in her self pity.
“Hell no,” she said out loud, turning back the way she came. She’d be damned if a little rejection sank her like that. She’d be home in a few days, for God’s sake. This would all be over. She decided to have another glass or two of wine and not go to her room until she was ready to pass out.
“Miss Burnet, I’m glad ye spoke. It’s so dark down here I didna think I’d find ye.”
Just what she needed. Still, a little bit of her gloom was swept away by Quinn’s voice. He’d come looking for her, causing a bit of happiness to shine through her dark mood, only to be snuffed as quickly. He probably only wanted to report what he’d learned.
She snorted. “Did you find out anything about Lord Hollingsborn’s character?” she asked.
He stepped out of the shadows, right in front of her, and looked abashed. “Actually, I lost sight of him shortly after I sat down at cards.”
He sounded so sad, she felt it was her duty to console him. That didn’t seem like the proper reaction to have and wondered if she’d had too much wine earlier.
“You needn’t worry,” she said. “I found him. Or rather he found me. Your sister wasn’t feeling well so I sent her to bed.”
“He was with Catie the whole time?” he asked.
“Perhaps not the whole time,” she said.
“Ah, bugger, I am everything Lachlan has ever said about me.” He took a step closer to her. She was inches from the wall, but even if she could have, she didn’t want to back away from him.
“Now, sir, I was just about to feel sorry for myself, so you’re going to have to stow your own self pity as I don’t have the energy to cheer you up.” She stood on her tip toes so her nose was level with his chin and gave him her sternest spinster look.
He laughed and put his hands on her waist. “Dinna call me sir,” he said, his voice a low growl that set off a thrum in her center, as if he’d plucked a string within her. He looked around the dim hallway. “What is this god awful part of the house?” he asked. “Let us go somewhere I can see ye better.”
She looked down, ashamed at first to admit she’d have to sleep down here, then shrugging it off. “I’ve been consigned to the servant’s quarters,” she said, looking up quickly to gauge his reaction.
He didn’t blink or flinch, but shook his head and leaned close to speak in her ear. “Then we must find ye a better place to sleep, aye?”
If she’d had any room, she would have staggered. The force of his proximity, his words, his breath near her cheek, all nearly knocked her over. Her heart sped up. His eyes locked with hers and he took her hand, leading her toward the stairs. She kept pace with him, not quite sure how since she’d gone quite boneless. Her mind pleasantly blank for the moment, she struggled to concentrate on his hand resting on the small of her back as he let her go ahead of him up the stairs. That warm, sturdy presence kept her from thinking, which would of course, ruin everything.
Back on a level where the light of the moon shone through the windows, reflecting off the polished wood floor and glinting in his burnished gold hair, the wheels in her head once again began to grind, once again reminded her this was a bad idea. She had scruples. She did not sleep with her employer.
As she opened her mouth to say something to that effect, he stopped in front of one of the doors and turned, smiling down at her.
“Ye’re lovely always,” he said, tracing her jaw with his fingertip. “
But especially so in the moonlight.”
“That’s not fair,” she argued faintly, unable to look away. He was distractingly lovely in the moonlight as well. His smile grew wider.
“God, I want to kiss ye,” he said.
He was drunk, she told herself. So was she, a little bit. Wouldn’t that even things out? Maybe neither one of them would remember this in the morning. Which would make it almost as if it hadn’t happened. Wait, nothing was going to happen. He placed a hand on either side of her face, his fingers sliding into her hair.
“You’re too young for me,” she said.
“I am not too young for ye,” he said, backing her against the door.
She tipped her head back to see him looking down at her, his eyes dark and intent. He ran his fingers down the sides of her throat, lingering at her collarbone. “Then you’re too big,” she argued, making him laugh.
“I think we shall be a perfect fit.”
His lips met hers, hot and forceful, and she melted against his powerful body. So much for scruples. Because she was gone. This was happening.
Chapter 16
His tongue brushed her lower lip and she opened her mouth eagerly to him, trembling at how amazing it felt to be kissing him. He worked to free her hair from the pins that held it in its severe knot at the back of her head, and unable to stand not having him run his fingers through it, she reached up and pulled them all out herself. Her hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back felt like freedom.
He loosely gathered a handful. “It’s like candle light, all golden and soft,” he said and pulled her head back to expose her throat, leaning over and kissing her beneath her jaw.
It was a good thing he had her pressed between his body and the door. There was no way she could have remained standing as his lips made their way down the side of her neck, as gentle as rain drops, but searing hot. She felt fizzy all over, and she couldn’t find a spot to rest her hands, greedily wanting to touch him everywhere at once.
Smitten by the Spinster Page 13
