“Catie, do you love me?” he asked, squeezing her hand almost painfully.
“Aye,” she responded instantly, her eagerness to forward her agenda passing close enough for passion.
“Then we must elope.”
She’d never felt so victorious, not in any foot race against any of the farmhands, not in haggling for the best prices at market. She tipped her chin down and looked up at him, fluttering her lashes, while inside she was whirling in circles and hollering.
“Ye canna be serious, Edwin,” she whispered, taking his hand and pressing it to her pounding heart. “Ye mustn’t tease me, not when things have turned so dire.”
“My darling, I would never jest about—” he paused, his face turning confused. “What is distressing you? And only tell me how I can make it right,” he hurried to add.
“My brother is going to take me back to Scotland,” she said. “If we are to act, we have to do it soon.”
Edwin nodded. “With all haste, my love,” he assured her. “Only tell me the day, and I shall be ready to lead you into our shared life.”
She held back the snort that threatened, and told him exactly when she wanted to meet him. If she didn’t exactly feel happy, she felt satisfied, and everything was settled by the time the butler returned with refreshments.
Chapter 18
Quinn didn’t know off the top of his head how many women he’d been with. A fair few. It was one of the many vices his brother always harangued him about. He didn’t see any harm in it though, if a young lady wanted to spend time with him. He learned early enough they were mostly interested in his looks and he learned not to get attached since they were never interested in the life he led. He was the less dangerous, and more fun of the two handsome brothers who lived on the remote, unforgiving land in the far north. Up until now he was happy to let them approach him, working very little to gain their attention, short of offering a smile or joke. It was always meant to be Lachlan who settled down and continued the Ferguson name. Quinn would have rather taken a solid punch straight to the face than consider working to get a woman to marry him.
Up until now he’d planned on living out his days, giving selflessly of his time to any lovely lass who showed interest. Now all he wanted was Lizzie. He didn’t quite understand it. She teased him mercilessly, and he still thought she was the most beautiful, charming and desirable woman he’d ever known. As far as he was concerned, he was done. She was the last. He only hoped she felt the same, sure that he’d die alone if she wouldn’t have him, celibate for the rest of his days. He didn’t think it would be hard, as he now knew no other woman could ever compare to her, but he certainly hoped it didn’t come to that.
What might be hard was convincing her he had anything to offer. He loved his land, as forbidding and lonesome as it was up there, but knew that forbidding and lonesome weren’t especially good selling points, especially to someone as cosmopolitan as his Lizzie.
She was such an odd, wee thing, obsessed with the story he’d told her the night they’d first been together. He kicked himself every day for that harebrained slip, but he’d felt so comfortable with her, and it was terrible never being able to speak about what really happened to Lachlan..
She thought she was so subtle about it too, casually asking him questions about witches. He almost thought she really believed him, and coupled with his first, daft impression that she was from the future, the fact that she continued to bring up the story did bother him a bit. If ever he’d done something stupid, it had been telling her that tale. However, it was a drop in an otherwise vast sea of happiness.
The days since they’d returned from the Hollingsborn estate had been the best he’d known. He’d expected her to go back to her prim, stiff self once they were back in town, pretending nothing had happened between them, and he’d been prepared to fight for her, make her see they should be together. When she had instead been glad to continue, he felt as if a long dormant seed started to grow in his soul. He stopped and grimaced at the poetic turn his thoughts had taken. It seemed love had turned him into an even bigger idiot.
The soft triple knock sounded at his door and he quickly opened it and pulled her inside.
“Catie’s downstairs with Lady Amberly,” she said, coiling her arms around his neck and pressing her entire length against him, setting his blood to boil. “There might be callers in a bit, then we can go to the park.”
“Do ladies never get sick of strolling?” he asked, not sure where he wanted his hands to land first, and letting them roam at will all over her soft body.
“Oh certainly,” she said, nipping at his neck and nearly driving him mad. “It’s a good thing there’s always so much needlework to do to fill the non-strolling hours.”
He grabbed her by the waist and maneuvered her backwards to the bed, knowing they had no time. “Dinna forget the fittings. And the mulling over fabric colors.” He breathed in the scent of her hair, smiling down at her when her legs hit the side of the bed.
“I don’t know how we manage to stroll at all.” She let herself fall backwards and he followed, lying beside her.
He took in her face, her soft pale hair all scraped to the back, a few wayward strands curling against her glowing cheeks. He longed to pull it all free from its pins but satisfied himself with pushing the tendrils behind her ears. Her lips parted as her eyes drifted shut and he leaned down to kiss her.
“I know there isna enough time,” he murmured against her throat.
“Do your best,” she said, sliding her hands down his shoulders, her eyes full of invitation.
He kissed her deeply then pulled away. He’d been wanting to have a serious conversation with her for days, but she always managed to confuse and distract him.
“Ye make me verra happy,” he said, tracing the line of her cheek to her chin.
Her eyes widened with surprise and he felt a slight pang. If she looked so shocked at that simple declaration, would she run screaming at the question he’d been longing to put to her? He kissed her again, for courage, and also because he knew she liked it. He’d use any means necessary to convince her.
She grabbed the back of his head and parted her lips, making what had meant to be a quick peck go on much longer. When he pulled back, her eyes were dreamy.
“You make me happy, too,” she said, tugging at his shirt.
He took her hand and held it still against his chest. “Catie does well here,” he started, hurrying on at her look of confusion at his seeming jump of subject. “It’s clear her aunt cares for her.” He let out a long breath. “I shall have to return to the Highlands soon.” Quinn watched carefully for any sign of anguish to cross over her features. She blinked and nodded, looking nothing more than resigned.
Lizzie pushed his hair back off his face, twirling a strand around her fingers. “I’m going to miss you,” she said, a hitch in her voice.
That small sound of emotion was what he needed to move forward. “Lizzie, I want ye to come with me.”
If he thought she looked shocked a moment before, he hadn’t been aware of what shock really looked like. Her eyes flew open and she scooted backwards into a sitting position, making a distressed noise in her throat.
“What do you mean?” she asked, turning red. “In what capacity would I go with you?”
He smiled, sitting up to be on a level with her. “As my guest.” No, that wasn’t right. He was mucking it up. He’d never made an offer before, had never had to be serious like this. So much counted on his doing this right, in a way that she would want to remember, and remember without cringing. “I want to know ye better, to spend all my time with ye, and show ye how I live.”
“I-I don’t know,” she said, pulling at the neckline of her dress. “I don’t think I can.”
“When your employment is finished here, ye can do what ye want, aye?” His words sounded harder than he meant, almost accusatory. He laced her fingers with his and kissed her fingertips. “Will ye think about it?”
Lizzie stared at him, then wriggled out of his grasp and put her face in her hands. “I’ll think about it,” she promised, then looked up at him again. Something was different. She looked less confounded and more calculated. “Will we pass through the land where the witch was? The one who sent your brother away?”
With a sigh, he stood up and paced away from the bed. “No, we needn’t pass anywhere near it to reach my land.”
“But what if we could find her, and get Lachlan back?” she asked.
“Lizzie, lass, it was only a story.” He turned and looked at her in frustration, struggling to keep his voice low. How could she think of that right now?
She shook her head, opening her mouth to argue when a knock sounded at the door, startling them both. Quinn swore, and Lizzie flung herself to the other side of the bed, crouching down out of sight.
He opened it a crack and took the message from one of the lads he’d given some coins to keep him informed of various goings on, then slammed it shut.
“Bugger it. Edwin is here, has been for some time. The lad says Lady Amberly is asleep at her post. I must get downstairs.”
He met her in the middle of the room, where she put her arms around him and rested her cheek against his chest. This was all he wanted, to be close to her. Kissing the top of her head, he said, “I only want to continue to be with ye.”
She nodded, squeezing him tighter. “Better get down to Catie. I shall join you soon.”
***
Lizzie stood frozen in Quinn’s room, staring at the door. She felt as if she’d been dashed against the rocks after being thrown from a sinking ship. Panic, confusion, then the excruciating pain of momentarily wishing she could go with him. How could Quinn do that to her? He of all people should have understood the rules of a fling. She still had four more days here, and had wanted them to be fun and lighthearted. She knew she’d crash hard when she got home and started missing him, but kept those thoughts firmly in the back of her mind.
Stealthily, she left his room and made her way slowly downstairs, taking a detour in the empty dining room to gather her wits before having to see him again. God, the way he’d looked at her, it had torn right through her. The first second he’d told her she made him happy and invited her to his home, her heart had soared before plummeting.
The week since they’d returned from the house party had been the most glorious time of her life. Quinn was funny, and sweet, and easygoing. He rubbed her shoulders when she snuck into his room, or he snuck upstairs to hers. He read her passages of books that he liked, and the look on his handsome face when one especially moved him melted her heart every time. And his face. She never got tired of looking at him. And she seriously thought she might be physically addicted to him, feeling twitchy and irritable if she had to go a few hours without him touching her. Having a secret love affair with a gorgeous Highlander in the eighteenth century was the most fun thing she’d ever done.
But of course it had to end. She had to meet Lord Ashford in four days and return to her own time. When Quinn made his declaration, she nearly had a heart attack, certain her dreadful corset was suffocating her. She didn’t want to hurt him, it hurt her enough to think about never seeing him again. The thought of causing him pain was too much. She stood up from the dining room chair and pulled at her gown, unable to get enough air again.
After she’d first told him she couldn’t go, she thought it might be wise to have a back-up plan if Lord Ashford didn’t show up, or if he failed to get her home. Ever since that nutter Solomon Wodge had gone on about witches, then Quinn had featured one in his bedtime story to her, she knew there had to be another way to time travel.
Lizzie absolutely didn’t want to have anything to do with witchcraft, but she wanted and needed to go home. If all else failed, she could get up north and find one of the witches, perhaps buy her way back with the bit of money she’d saved.
It was too much to think about at the moment, and after several deep breaths, made her way to join the others. Edwin was gone, it was just Quinn, Catie and Lady Amberly in the room. Lady Amberly, absorbed in her needlework, didn’t notice the death glares that Quinn and Catie exchanged with one another.
“Lord Hollingsborn had to leave,” Quinn said. “I fear we’re on our own for the morning stroll.”
“I’ve suddenly got a headache,” Catie said, causing Lady Amberly to jump up and start tutting over her. “I willna be walking today.”
Her narrowed eyes could have been a side effect of her headache, but Lizzie didn’t think so. Something had gone on before she got down here. She hoped Quinn hadn’t been too rude to Edwin. Catie seemed determined to have him, and gossip had begun to spread that they were as good as betrothed.
“Catie can stay with me,” Lady Amberly said. “I do believe we’ll have more callers, but I can always send them away. Lizzie, I was going to send someone out for some new thread. You wouldn’t want to go, would you? If it’s trouble, I can arrange for it to be delivered.”
Quinn looked at her hopefully over Lady Amberly’s head. “I will be pleased to accompany ye.”
Catie made a retching sound, sending Lady Amberly into a fresh round of agitated concern, while Quinn scowled at her. Lizzie broke out into a cold sweat, already distressed enough about Quinn, and now this reaction from Catie. It seemed they weren’t being secretive enough. Catie clearly knew what they were about and was expressing her displeasure. Lizzie glanced from her charge, who wouldn’t meet her eye, to Lady Amberly, who waited expectantly for an answer, to Quinn. With his comforting smile and cool blue eyes, he was a calm oasis in the middle of her turmoil. All she wanted in these last few days was to spend as much time as possible with him. If Lady Amberly found out and dismissed her, she’d deal with it.
After she gathered tiny snips of all the colors of thread Lady Amberly needed, they headed out. As soon as they rounded the corner, Quinn tucked her arm under his and pulled her close to his side.
“I believe my sister is suspicious of us,” he said with a grin.
“Suspicious? I’m certain she knows.” Lizzie tried to frown at him, to convey the severity of the situation. “If she were to tell Lady Amberly, I’d be tossed into the street.”
“Then I should catch ye,” he said.
She couldn’t help smiling back at him. His happiness was infectious, and the fact that she was the cause of it, added to the glow she felt. “You might be tossed out as well,” she told him.
“Ah, imagine it,” he said, dropping her arm, but taking her hand and kissing it. She looked around quickly, but no one she recognized was in the street to see them acting so wanton. “I could get my room back at that disreputable inn. Ye could pose as my bride and we could have our honeymoon.”
He stopped walking and looked down at her, his face suddenly way too serious by half. He rested his hands on her shoulders, his eyes searching hers. The part of her that wanted to go to a shabby inn with him and never leave was screaming at her to take the deal, and the part of her that used her brain, not her body, not her damn emotions, needed to shut it the hell up.
Shaking out of his grip, she laughed, surprising even herself at the quality of her acting. She sounded quite merry and teasing. “A disreputable inn and a sham marriage is what every girl dreams of, Mr. Ferguson.”
She flounced off, but he reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “Dinna do that,” he pleaded, leading her off the street into a small alley between shops. He glanced around to make sure they wouldn’t be accosted and took her hands. “I shouldna have said it like that.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as if in prayer before continuing. “I want ye, Lizzie. Ye must know I do. Truly, never a sham.”
“What are you saying?” she asked, shaking all over. Why had she asked that, why didn’t she run? She found she held her breath while waiting for his answer.
“I love ye,” he said, in a rush. His face went red, then pale, then he seemed to find his equilibrium and nodded once, firmly. “I wa
nt ye to come home with me. Make it your home as well.”
Her legs shook under her skirts, her heart hammered against her corset. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face, wanting to memorize him, burn every feature forever into her mind. She knew she’d take this moment out again and again, replay it in her memory until the day she died.
Not knowing how she found the strength, she wriggled her hands out of his grasp and stepped back. “I have to get the thread for Lady Amberly,” she said in a stranger’s voice, and took another step away.
“Lizzie.”
“I can’t,” she said, trying to convey how sorry she felt. “Please let me go. I’ll see you later, at the house.”
She turned and walked away, not looking back, but knowing he didn’t follow her. She knew he wouldn’t because she’d asked him not to. He’d respect her wishes, because he was a good man, kind. The best she’d ever known.
She got to the notions shop and stood outside, straightening her hair and trying to lose the crazy from her eyes, which had to be there, she felt so flustered. It hit her again all at once, the thing she’d fled in terror from a few minutes before. Longing. To be with Quinn, see his home, make it hers, just as he’d asked. He’d said he loved her, and in so many words, had asked her to marry him. Hadn’t he?
She walked further down the street, trying to sort her thoughts and reliving the last moments with Quinn. The look on his face, she’d never seen anyone look that way at her. She wanted to see it again, but this time, throw her arms around his neck. He’d pick her up around the waist and twirl her, laughing into her hair and telling her again and again that he loved her. And she would…
“Oh, no.” She stopped dead, causing an elderly gentleman to shake his walking stick at her. Hurriedly getting out of the way, she huddled under a pub sign. “Oh, no,” she repeated, frowning at a lady who looked like she might offer some help. There was no help for her now. She’d fallen in love with Quinn Ferguson.
Smitten by the Spinster Page 15
