Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
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.
“How’s Scotland?”
“It’s trying to kill me,” Quinn answered.
“The country?”
“Yeah, but never mind that. Johnny has the measles, so we’re stuck here for a while. Can you let everyone know that we’re going to be delayed?
“It’s the curse, isn’t it? Did you get rid of the emerald?”
“Within minutes of arriving, but apparently the Menzies commissioned a gypsy to paint some portraits about how the curse would play out, and you won’t believe it, but one of the portraits depict someone who looks like me.
Now everyone is in an uproar.” Seeing the picture on the phone left Quinn bewildered, if not a bit intrigued, not that she’d tell her sister.
Cara would personally fly over to drag Quinn back kicking and screaming to reality. Well, at least she’d try.
“I told you not to go. I warned you that thing is cursed. You need to come home.”
“Not yet.”
Cara let out a loud, long sigh. “So how is Scotland trying to kill you?”
“Oh, you know.” Quinn waved her hand as if Cara could see her and began tapping her foot. “The flowers are on steroids and are everywhere. There’s a pissed-off woman who thinks I’m out to steal her man. Oh, and there was an incident where someone tried to push me off a cliff.”
“What!” Cara’s squeal made Quinn’s momentarily deaf and caused her ears ring.
“Get on the next plane and get out of there. Now,” Cara demanded as any good sister might.
Quinn gave her props for trying, even if she’d ignore Cara’s demands.
She couldn’t order Quinn around in person, so why did she think she’d accomplish it from another country?
“When have you ever known me to run from a fight?” Quinn’s nervously jumping leg stopped mid-bounce.
“This isn’t a joke.” Cara’s voice lowered to a scolding boil.
“I’ll be fine. I can’t leave the hunky Scot to fend for himself. He’s not equipped. Not until I figure out what’s going on.”
“Quinn Elizabeth.”
“That doesn’t even work when Mom is mad.” Quinn chuckled. “Collin needs a savior, so I’m going to give him one.”
“Quinn, be reasonable. You don’t know what you’re up against, and you don’t know those people. They could all be psycho crazy killers. Come home.”
“I can’t. Not even if I wanted to, but you’re right. I might not know what I’m up against, but I do know three ghosts that can give me all the juicy details. Gotta go, sis, love you, and if I die, you get my shoe collection and you can say you were right.”
“Quinnnnnn,”
Cara meant well, but was it bad that all Quinn heard was blah, blah, blah?
Cara was blood. She should know better than most that Quinn would do things her way.
Changing her mind wasn’t easily achieved.
She’d been talked into it once and her ex fiancé had paid the ultimate price and lost his life.
Never again. Danny was a prime example of what happened when her gut instincts weren’t heeded.
His handsome face flashed before her eyes, making her heart clench and her stomach roll.
It was hard to believe that five years had passed since that fateful night when he’d turned her life upside down.
She’d survived losing him; she’d damn sure survive Scotland.
Quinn left the office, stopping Abby in the hall. “Do you drive?”
“No, miss, but Angus does, and he’s in the kitchen?”
Quinn wasn’t stranded and at anyone’s mercy. Hallefreakinlujah. There was a God, and at the moment, he was on her side. “Thank you.” Quinn all but sang the words.
“Would you like me to show you the way?” she asked.
“Nope, I’ll find it but thanks for your help.”
Ten minutes later, after multiple wrong turns and questionable looks, Quinn followed the delicious smell of fresh-baked bread until she finally found the kitchen.
Angus had a woman wrapped in his arms, engaging in a sensuous lip lock with both hands squeezing her backside. Quinn would have been embarrassed, but she was too stunned that the old coot was getting some action.
“That better be Mrs. Angus, or I’m telling your wife to double your chores.”
The couple pulled apart. The white-haired woman’s cheeks were as pink as the stew meat on the counter ready to be tossed into the pot.
She smoothed her hair with one hand and playfully tapped Angus on the arm with the other.
Thank God Quinn had gotten there when she had.
She’d need to bleach her eyes if she’d caught them getting busy on the counter. Some things just couldn’t be unseen.
“Aye. You must be Quinn Thatcher, my new best friend. I’m Mavis, the keeper of Angus’ chore list.”
A giddiness claimed Quinn, and her grin grew.
This woman was the creator of the amazing muffins.
No wonder Angus was getting frisky. “Your muffins have ruined me from enjoying the processed foods back home, but no matter. I have every intention of sneaking you back into the States.” Quinn knocked Angus on the arm. “You can come too.”
“I like you, Quinn Thatcher,” Mavis said, picking up a plate of cookies. She held it out to Quinn. “I baked you some American cookies to make you feel more at home.”
“Mavis, dear, she just had breakfast,” Angus said as he moved to take the plate.
“You’ve got to be quicker than that, old man,” Quinn said, snatching the entire plate out of his reach.
She coveted the chocolate chip cookies as if they were the oxygen she needed to survive.
She took a bite into the warm cookie. The melted chocolate coated her tongue.
Her eyes closed in bliss, and she might have moaned.
She’d never tasted anything so divine. “It’s dangerous to stand between a woman and dessert. ”
“I’ll have to remember that,” Collin said as he entered the kitchen. He took a cookie from the plate and inhaled his in two bites. He went to take another one and Mavis grabbed the plate. “You’ll ruin your lunch.”
“He will, but I won’t,” Quinn said while slipping another one from the plate. A spatula came down against the top of her hand, but no amount of pain from the cookie warden could have made her drop that cookie. “I don’t suppose you know how to make pizza, do you?”
Mavis’ eyes twinkled as though she held all kinds of culinary knowledge over mere mortals. She probably did.
“I hear you need a ride,” Collin asked.
“Oh yeah.” Quinn had gone momentarily brain dead, first with Angus’ kissing escapades, and then because of savoring the melting chocolate chips.
She’d had her fair share of cookies and chocolate but nothing as orgasmic as Mavis’ treats.
It was official; Quinn was taking Mavis home with her if she had to beg, borrow, or steal.
It didn’t take much to make her happy. “The voyeurism and food made me forget. Had I known Mavis was such a great cook, I would have bartered her for the emerald.”
“I wouldnae have traded, but I’d consider time share.” Collin laughed, and Quinn broke the cookie in half and held it up to his lips, rewarding him like a child willing to share his toys.
“Mmmm.” He mumbled as he chewed. “Where’d you need to go?”
“Into town to grab my bags and buy some more clothes. I hadn’t expected to stay an entire week or more.”
“I’ll grab my keys,” Angus said, gesturing over his shoulder.
“Nay, I’ll drive Quinn. You can supervise the staff as they start setting up the ballroom for this weekend. Make sure they donae try to sword fight like they did last year.”
“Ohhh, a party. Will you wear your skirt?” Quinn teased, following Collin out of the kitchen.
“Aye, I’ll be wearing my kilt. It’s an annual tradition to keep the peace between the Menzies and McDougalls. Where the singles mingle in search of finding true love in the other’s clan.”
“Seriously?” Quinn asked, following him out of the castle to the truck parked out front. “Do you parade the women like a herd of cattle, or do you chaps prefer wet T-shirt contests?”
“Nay.” Collin chuckled, opening the truck door. He stopped her before she got in. Using the pad of his thumb, he swiped at the corner of her mouth. “You’ve got something right there.”
Heat swirled in his eyes as his body pressed against hers, making her stomach flutter in delight and her breath hitch from his touch.
“I was saving that for later.” Quinn slipped past him and wiped at the corners of her mouth.
He was good. She could see how any woman might fall under his spell.
She shoved the thoughts aside and cleared her throat.
Her objective didn’t include taking the man to bed but saving Collin and herself from whoever had tried to turn her into fish food.
Although… there wasn’t a reason why she couldn’t do both.
Quinn waited until Collin pulled out of the castle driveway before blurting out, “Who has the most to gain if the curse plays out?”
Collin was quiet, as if mulling it over. “Ian,” he finally answered. “The last portrait depicts someone handing him the emerald.”
“Are you sure it’s him in the picture?”
“Aye. He has a matching birthmark on his wrist.”
“And who has the most to lose?” Quinn asked, trying to remember some of the words from the curse. Each time she tried, the word death kept flashing in her mind.
“I’m no’ sure. Neither the gypsy nor the curse gave names. We have only the portraits and the poem. It said that you’d bring a once noble man to ruin.”
“Let’s not forget the part of the poem that mentions fire and death to contend with,” she reminded him.
“Do you trust all of your staff and the people close to you?”
“Aye. I trust them all.” Collin’s words were strained as he pumped the brakes. The truck was picking up speed going down the hill. “The brakes are no’ working.”
Quinn’s whole body stiffened. At the bottom of the hill was a sharp curve, and if he didn’t make the turn, they’d both turn into ghosts. She wasn’t about to live an eternity in this foreign land.
She reached for the door latch as her heart raced faster with each passing second.
“You cannae jump.”
“Wanna bet? We both are, on the count of three. One, two…” She didn’t wait until three before shoving the door open.
Her body tensed at the sight of the gravel road beneath the tires.
The grass was about a foot away. “Three,” she yelled at the same time Collin’s door opened.
She launched away from the road and landed in the hard packed grass and leaves and continued to roll before coming to a stop.
She sat up, rubbing her head and trying to refocus her eyes.
Her gaze landed on Collin on the other side of the road before their gazes flew to the truck and they both watched in horror as it disappeared over the cliff and out of sight.
The sound of crunching metal and burst of shooting flames filled the quiet afternoon.
Quinn lay back in the grass, afraid to move and taking inventory of all of her body parts.
Her back ached, but that was nothing compared to the invisible sledgehammer pounding against her head.
The jump could have been worse. The side of the road could have been covered in heather.
Quinn’s vision blurred and her head started to sway.
She closed her eyes to fight the fainting feeling and lost her battle as a dark void consumed her consciousness.