Chapter 4 #2
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 nursery 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 felt 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.
He wondered what possible games Miss Burnet might want to play with him.
“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 gratified 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 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.”
“That’s right, miss, it’s about your uncle. He needs you straight away.”
All the color drained from her face and Quinn stepped forward to steady her if need be. She turned to him and frowned.
“I really must go,” she said. “He’s been ill. I’m terribly sorry.”