Chapter 6 #2
Quinn shouted with laughter and she went cold, wondering what about him made her drop her guard enough to speak ill of her employer.
For all she knew he would run back to them and tell what she’d said.
She vowed to be more reticent, and shook her head as if it was just a jest. Something told her she could trust Quinn, but he threw her off so badly, she wasn’t quite sure she could trust herself at the moment.
Normally, she could withstand deep blue eyes in a handsome smiling face, all attached to a big, rugged man dressed smartly in close fitting breeches and a crisp jacket.
During her years in the acting business, she’d been surrounded by good looking men and had learned not to be affected by them, but there was something about Quinn.
He had a magnetism that went deeper than his looks.
“You haven’t worn your plaid the entire time you’ve been here,” she blurted, thinking that seeing him swathed in a tartan tablecloth would be far less distracting than the muscle hugging clothes he’d been provoking her with the last couple of days.
They arrived at the park and he helped them out of the carriage, his hands leaving a heated impression on her waist as he lifted her down.
She hurriedly checked to make sure no one saw, as she could easily exit a carriage without help, or at the very least only needed a hand to keep her balance.
She didn’t know what had possessed her to hang onto the carriage opening like a helpless damsel until he’d scooped her up and set her on the ground.
Catie turned around and blinked impatiently at her while she got her bearings.
Lizzie waved her on ahead, and she gamboled up the path like a colt.
Quinn held out his arm and with only the slightest hesitation, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.
It was as nice an early autumn morning as London ever had, the sun struggling to come out from behind a bank of low hanging clouds, the dew sparkling on the grass, and the smell of the river wafting in on the occasional breeze.
Leaning against his strong arm as they made their way along the winding path, she felt curiously close to content.
“Ye asked me about my plaid?” he asked as they endeavored to keep up with Catie.
“I imagined you’d be in full regalia down here,” she said.
He nodded at his sister. “I didna want to offend or make her stand out. I dinna mind these bloody clothes too much, but God, I’d like to wear my kilt.”
Lizzie laughed, he sounded so earnest. She hated the clothes too, though she couldn’t explain to him why. She wondered what he’d think of her in her workout gear.
“You should wear what makes you comfortable,” she said, glancing over at him.
He was pretty spectacular in day wear. When they started going to parties, she might expire instantly if she saw him all gussied up in more formal attire.
As much as she hated wrestling herself into her many layers each morning, she’d grown a fondness for the men’s outfits of this time.
They were just so flattering, especially when the man had a body that was easy to flatter, like Quinn did.
When she was back in her own time, she’d probably have to buy an elaborate costume for any new boyfriend, and hope he put up with her weird breeches fetish.
She turned her face into the cooling breeze.
She really had to convince him to start wearing his kilt so she could stop being mesmerized by his trousers.
“Ye dinna think I’ll start a fight?” he asked.
“Do you start many fights, normally?” She looked up at him to see he was giving her question serious thought.
“I didna used to. In fact, I dinna like fighting. That’s more Lachlan’s area of expertise. I’m a peaceful sort.” He patted the arm she had linked through his. “I can hold my own, mind ye.”
She giggled and chomped down on her lip to keep it in. “I’ve no doubt.”
He scowled. “With men my own size.”
She couldn’t help it and burst out laughing, recalling the little pickpocket who’d got the best of him on their first day in London.
“Are there men your own size?” she asked.
Human men, she wanted to clarify. Not Viking demi-gods. The look he gave her made her realize she was flirting with him, and he knew it. There was pure devilry in his eyes.
“Wear the kilt,” she breathed.
“As ye like,” he answered, tilting his chin to Catie, who’d met up with someone further up the path.
All the fun and sparkle darkened to concern when he saw the young man take her hand, and he stepped forward with purpose in his stride. Lizzie tightened her grip on his arm and dug in her heels, alarmed at the stormy look on his face.
“It’s just the neighbor boy. Catie made his acquaintance yesterday. He’s harmless.”
Quinn relaxed slightly, but the menacing look remained. Lizzie stopped in her tracks and tugged on his arm until he looked down at her.
“This is frightening,” she said, waving her hand around his face.
“If you look at every man who speaks to Catie the way you look right now, she’ll never even get one dance, let alone a marriage proposal.
” He slowly relaxed his features to mere stoniness.
“Come now, you can do better than that. Try friendly and inviting.”
His face bloomed into a smile at her lightly teasing encouragement and she dropped his arm.
Do not liken him to the sun, she told herself, even as she found herself leaning toward him.
But he was golden and big, and quite honestly, brighter than the actual sun at the moment, which had given up and retired behind the clouds.
“There you go. That’s perfect,” she said, unable to look at him anymore. “I shall introduce you. Please try not to give the poor kid a heart attack.”
Quinn laughed and took her arm again, pulling her against his side. “Ye must stay close,” he said. “It seems I need a chaperone as much as wee Catie.”
Oliver held his own just fine under Quinn’s fierce greeting. Lizzie unobtrusively poked him in the ribs when he thrust out his hand in an alarmingly aggressive manner, hoping he wouldn’t shake the young man to pieces.
“An honor to meet you, sir,” Oliver said, barely wincing at the firm handshake. “My family has a property in the lowlands. My grandmother was a Dunbar.”
Well, well. He was clearly working to impress Quinn, which meant he already had designs on Catie.
“We dinna get to the lowlands much,” Quinn said.
“Though I think I came across a Dunbar in a pub once. He liked to hear the sound of his own voice, got verra drunk and began to sing on one of the table tops. Someone tossed him into the street, and he kept on warbling, even after he got doused with a bucket of water.”
“That’ll be one of my relatives, I’ve no doubt,” Oliver laughed.
Lizzie had to struggle not to groan. She’d have to investigate Oliver further, but didn’t think he was suitable at all.
For one thing, his family wasn’t in any dire straits, and would have no need to be grateful to her for facilitating the match.
She needed to throw a wrench in soon, before Oliver got it in his head that he couldn’t live without Catie.
She clearly already liked him a lot, and Quinn seemed impressed with his good-natured ability to be teased. Double damn.
Oliver kept being charming, making Catie and Quinn laugh with mild, inoffensive stories about various London families, and even cracking Lizzie up once, to her irritation.
She had to remember it was early days still, and Catie would meet many more young gentleman, and hopefully one of them would overshadow this sweet, adorable pup.
If Lizzie made anywhere near a respectable amount of money from her wages alone, she’d be perfectly pleased to let nature take its course, but she didn’t. If Lord Ashford’s rescue effort didn’t work, she needed every extra shilling she could get for her freedom savings fund.
After an annoyingly enjoyable walk in the park, they returned to the house to find the hall loaded with newly arrived parcels from the dressmaker.
They all looked at one another with various expressions.
Catie, horrified and delighted at once. Quinn, a bit shocked that there were so many.
Lizzie, uncertain. Now the real work began.
Two footmen carried the packages upstairs and Catie tore after them, leaving Lizzie and Quinn in the front hall.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “So it begins,” he said, as if he’d read her mind.
“Indeed, sir,” she said.
“Tomorrow shall be the first grand event?” he asked. “I hope she does well. Though I shouldna doubt it with ye to guide her. Ye’ve done wonders for her.”
Stunned at his sincere compliment, she nodded stiffly. “Thank you. I assure you it’s all Catie.” She let go of his arm and climbed the stairs, feeling his eyes on her as she went.