Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Quinn plopped back against the satin sheets and clutched them to her chest. She hadn’t lied about the library.
She was going to find that book if it was the last thing she did.
Collin might not understand. No, he’d be pissed if he knew she was hunting the answers to questions she didn’t even know to ask.
All she knew was that the book held the key, and she was going to find it.
Renewed enthusiasm propelled her out of the bed and into her clothes. A quick shower in her room and change of clothes would get rid of the cobwebs in her head, not to mention ease her deliciously sated body. If she’d made a bucket list, she would have been able to cross off several touchdowns.
She left Collin’s room, opened the door to her room, and froze with her hand still gripping the knob. A copy of a newspaper clipping she knew all too well was stuck to the wall with a knife. “Son of a bitch.”
Quinn hurried to close the door and glanced around the room.
Everything else was in place but a few pieces of clothes that were hanging out of her suitcase.
Someone had violated her space. Anger strummed through her body like an agitated wasp nest. She moved cautiously through the room to the knife sticking in the picture of her head and yanked it free, catching the paper as it fell.
The picture was of her when her ex-fiancé Danny had died.
Unlike the copy in her apartment, this one had the eyes gouged out and a red mark across her neck.
She was more surprised that someone had gone to the trouble to find a copy of the article than she was that someone wanted her dead.
Had Collin seen this? Surely he would have said something before letting her seduce him.
The article had tainted her as a fraud and black widow after the event.
Her space had been violated, her past on display, and whoever was responsible was playing a deadly game that they would not win. They thought this would scare her. Not by a long shot. She smiled and narrowed her eyes.
After showering and dressing, Quinn jogged down the stairs and into the kitchen to grab a blueberry muffin. Mavis was behind the stove.
“Well, good mornin’, Quinn. How are you on this fine day?” Mavis asked like a mom who knew Quinn had spent the night having the best sex of her life.
“Wonderful as usual, now that I have your muffin.” Quinn raised the muffin and took a bite, letting the blueberry flavor fill her mouth. “Can I ask you something, hypothetically?” She covered her mouth and mumbled, not wanting to give her a show of the food in her mouth. Mom would be proud.
“Sure, dear.” She leaned against the counter.
Quinn swallowed. “If I wanted to learn more about Gwinnie, where would I go?”
“Ahh. You’re still trying to figure out the curse, arenae you?”
Quinn shrugged. “Well considering someone painted my face into one of the starring roles, I thought I’d give it a good go.”
Mavis wiped her hands on her apron. “Follow me.”
Quinn should have known that Mavis would have the answers, cook or not, so she followed slowly behind, leaving the confines of the kitchen to another spiral staircase.
Mavis surprised Quinn with her agility on the steps.
Just when Quinn was certain they were headed toward the tower, Mavis turned in the opposite direction toward the fire-stricken part of the castle.
“Collin only keeps some of the relics in the ballroom, but not all.”
“No?”
She threw open a pair of double doors, seemingly untouched by the fire, and stepped aside, watching Quinn’s face.
Her mouth dropped open as she walked into a beautiful room with the finest of silks and silver.
Antique furniture filled the walls, along with tapestries, and the finest of carpets covered the floor.
Quinn stepped over to the closest mannequin and ran her fingers over the dress covering it.
It was the same dress in the portrait. “The portrait doesn’t do this dress justice. It’s stunning.”
“It’s yours. Made and designed by Lady Menzie, after the portraits were commissioned, for the woman who returned the emerald.”
“Gwinnie?” Quinn asked.
“No, her mother-in-law.”
“Noooo.” A smile split her lips. “Old Iron Fist did this?”
“She did.” Mavis walked over to the mannequin and held out the skirt. “And it looks like it will fit.”
A special garter sat on the mannequin’s leg beneath the skirt. It held a blade, encased in a sheath, with an emerald encrusted gem handle.
Mavis slipped the handle free and held out a dagger. “She had a smaller emerald placed in the handle above the blade as a token of appreciation for whoever returned the emerald. She gave a matching one to the psychic who foretold your coming.”
“Seriously?” Iron Fist was sentimental? “Have you heard any tales about what happened to the psychic?” Quinn asked, moving around the room taking in all the beautiful pieces.
“She stayed, worked for the mistress and handed down her blade to the women in her line.”
Her words made Quinn pause and then turn to face Mavis. “Are her relatives still here in town?”
Mavis smiled and lifted her skirt, pulling a dagger from her leg holster. “As a matter of fact, we are.”
She dropped her skirt.
“You’re a psychic?” Quinn asked.
“’Tis true.”
“Did you see me coming?” Quinn asked, stepping over to her; she took the woman’s hand, feeling an instant kinship from one weirdo to another.
“I did, and when Angus told me he was picking you up, I dinnae know if I should be mortified at what it meant or excited that you were real.”
“So you know the secrets of the curse?”
“No, dear. I only know what was told to me by my ancestors and the reasoning behind this dress. Lady Menzie took ill no’ too long after the emerald went missing, and Laird Menzie, along with the rest of the castle, mourned her loss.”
Everyone must have thought Lady Menzie had lost her mind to believe in psychics and God knows what else.
Quinn was surprised someone back in those days didn’t think Lady Menzie was a devil worshiper for even employing someone who could tell the future.
Quinn’s respect for the Menzies was growing on a daily basis.
They were kind, caring and crazy, just like Quinn.
“Collin wants me to call the tailor if the dress disnae fit you for the dance tonight.”
“He wants me to wear that?” Quinn turned back to the beautiful garment and eyed it with renewed interest. Tilting her head, she let her gaze travel over the beautiful piece of art and the exquisite detail put into making it.
The dress would fit, even if she had to wear multiple layers of Spanx and gobs of butter to slide that sucker on. That bitch was hers.
“Aye,” Mavis answered, walking to the back of the mannequin and untying the corset. “Strip and let’s see if it fits.”
Ten minutes later, Quinn stood in front of a floor-length mirror in the room inhaling little breaths. The tightness of the corset made it difficult to breathe, but it sure did make her breasts look fabulous.
Quinn grabbed her boobs and grinned. “Margarete only wishes she had these babies.”
“I’m sure Collin is pleased with them as well.”
Quinn blushed, not from Mavis’ comments, but from remembering just how pleased Collin had been.
“You look lovely, dear, and it fits perfectly,” Mavis said, coming to stand beside Quinn.
“I’ll be lucky if I don’t pass out.”
“You’ll live,” Mavis said, moving behind her to untie the torture device. “And you’ll be the prettiest Menzie at the ball.”
“I’m not a Menzie,” Quinn corrected her.
“No’ yet.”
“I’ll tell you what. You learn to make pizza, and I’ll consider coming back to visit, as long as you promise I won’t have to eat haggis.” Quinn chuckled, relieved her lungs had expanded as the garment loosened.
Quinn slipped back into her clothes as Mavis held the dress. “I’ll get this steamed and leave it in your room.”
Her room. Her room where the knife-wielding killer had been. “Uh…can you just leave it in Collin’s room?”
“Of course, dear. I just dinnae want to assume.”
“No assuming. I slept there last night, and apparently, someone entered my room while we were busy.” Multiple orgasms busy. She kept that comment to herself.
“Oh dear.” Her brows dipped, and her lips turned down. “Have you told Collin?”
Telling Collin would require a deeper conversation about the message that was left. Quinn still hadn’t decided what, if anything, to tell him. Her past was her past. She was proud of many things in her life, but Danny’s death wasn’t one of them. “Not yet. I don’t want to worry him.”
Mavis rested her palm on Quinn’s arm. “Trust Collin. He’s a good man.”
Quinn pasted her most sincere look on her face, which she normally reserved for funerals and her mother.
“I do and I will, just not today. This party is a big deal for both clans, and I don’t want to start another clan war when he starts accusing everyone within earshot.
Next thing you know, someone else will be painting a picture depicting me as the charlatan capable of breaking the bridge over the great divide. No, I think I’ll wait.”
The dress, along with the ruby broach, would be enough to incite an attack. An attack she could handle. Talking about the skeletons in her own closet? Not so much. Quinn turned to leave and paused at the door. “Can you make sure the dagger and sheath are included with the dress?
“Of course.”
“Thank you for this, and your secret.”
“All of my ancestors before me have taken care of the lady of the house. You might not officially be a Menzie, but you are the lady of this house. The returned emerald confirms it.” Mavis smiled as if she knew something Quinn didn’t.
The woman was a bit delusional, but who was Quinn to call her out on the misconception? Quinn had done a good deed and returned the emerald. It wasn’t as though she’d come riding in on a white horse with a sword to slay a dragon.
Quinn gestured with her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll be in the library if anyone needs me.”
“I’ll send in cookies and refreshments.”
An endless supply of cookies from Mavis, delusional though she may be, might have been worth the whole trip. Not to mention the sexy Highlander whose touch made her body sizzle. “Thanks.”
Quinn entered the humongous library. New and old books covered the floor-to-ceiling shelves. She stood overwhelmed by the sheer volume of books that waited. It was going to take her all day to find the magical book with the answers. A road map would have been nice.
Hours later, with a cookie in hand, she had cleared one wall looking for the intricate spine when she spotted a shadow by the door. She turned, and her heart stilled. Quinn clutched the cookie to her chest as if it would stop her impending heart attack.
The caretaker, Garth, stood on the threshold, blocking the entrance with his hands behind his back. She held his gaze, afraid to move, hell, afraid to breathe. That man could snap her like a twig. Without a word, he stepped into the room and came right toward her.
Quinn lifted her chin and refused to cower. “I’m Quinn.”
“I know who you are,” he answered in a deep, dark voice with his hands clutched behind his back. Did he have an ax ready to slice her in two? “You’re the one causing quite a stir.”
“Now listen here, you big lumberjack…” The words died on her lips as he moved closer, pinning her back against the wooden shelves. The sharp angles of the shelves and hard spines pressed into her skin. He reached over her head and slid a book back into place before grabbing another one.
He narrowed his eyes down at her and sniffed her hair before stepping back.
Okay, weird man had a scent fetish. Quinn restrained the urge to sniff her hair to figure out what he could have smelled.
Instead, her gaze went to the romance novel in his hand.
It was one that had bored her to tears. Quinn took the book from him and shoved it back into its place, walked to the wall on the right, and grabbed a better one.
She held it out. “This is one of my favorites, but the sequel isn’t due out for another few months. You can thank me later.”
“You liked that one?” he asked while flipping the book over to read the back.
“Yeah, it’s got romance, mystery, and intrigue. Give it a try.”
“You like this author?”
She smiled trying to ease the tension in the room. “Yeah, he’s good. You know, you two would look alike if it wasn’t for the beard and clothes. Do you have a twin that lives in the states?”
“Nay.”
She shrugged. “I guess they say everyone has a doppelganger. Yours happens to write romance. Enjoy the book.”
“You Americans are pushy.”
“Not all Americans, just me.” What a jackass.
Still a jackass that had access to an ax.
Maybe she should have let him read the boring book, but hopefully, the new one might hold his interest longer, which sounded like a much better plan.
A busy reader was too busy to chase her while swinging an ax to cut her into tiny pieces.
Quinn had a brain. Regardless of what her sisters thought.
Garth left without another word, and her racing heart slowed.
She spent the rest of the afternoon in the damn library, checking the spines for a book that wasn’t even in the room.
She stood at the window watching the sun dip below the horizon.
The book was a lost cause, making her heart sink into her toes.
Would she even have time to figure out who was trying to kill her before they succeeded?
Shoulders slumped, Quinn went back to Collin’s room to get ready and dress for the dance.