Chapter 18 #2
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 want 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, wanted 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.