by Quinn, Paula
Skye was quite sure she sweated like a lathered racehorse beneath her many layers of clothing, and if Quinn didn’t arrive soon, she’d be forced to start peeling clothing from her person.
“I really should insist someone chaperone ye, but I wouldna force anyone into the frigid weather.” Aunt Louisa glanced up from whatever the black thing was she knitted. “I shall ask ye to stroll along the terrace, so I can see ye from the window.”
Located on the rear side of the house, the terrace enjoyed afternoon sun when there was any to be had. As the clock had not yet chimed ten, deep shadows covered the flagstone and the frost hadn’t begun to thaw there.
Skye had rather hoped to walk in a sunnier location, but she’d not argue the point for fear a chaperone would be procured, and then any opportunity to converse privately with Quinn would be lost.
“Of course, Aunt Louisa.”
Her aunt must know she wouldn’t do anything improper, but now that Liam was her guardian, she supposed they must take a more active interest in Skye’s activities and whom she entertained.
Earlier, when Quinn had entered the breakfast room, her heart had fluttered like a wild bird in her breast. Such giddiness had sluiced through her that her doldrums of the night before seemed trite and nonsensical. The promise in his warm, green gaze when it had rested upon her had given her great hope.
Careful not to appear too eager, Skye slid a sidelong glance to the still empty doorframe then to the mantel clock. Quinn was six minutes late but, likely, he’d left his overcoat in his bedchamber which was in the manor’s other wing.
Even as she finished the thought, he strode through the doorway with animalist ease and grace, holding his black cocked hat. That charming smile, which never failed to make her stomach do strange things, quirked his mouth. Lord but he was striking. If she lived to be a toothless, gray-haired, old tabby, he’d never fail to stir her this way.
“Please forgive my tardiness.” He didn’t offer an explanation but canted his head toward the Dowager Baroness Penderhaven as he extended his elbow to Skye. “Are ye ready?”
“Yes.” She gathered her muff and placed her hand in the bend of his elbow.
“Quinn, I already advised Skye, and I’ll request the same from ye. Make yer stroll up and down the terrace so that I can see ye. It wouldna do to raise eyebrows or create gossip fodder.”
“As ye will, my lady,” he intoned quite formally with a slight tilt of his head as he placed his hat atop his light brown hair.
Skye prudently refrained from reminding her aunt that she’d walked alone with him dozens of times before he’d departed. No doubt, Aunt Louisa had noted Quinn’s marked interest in her at breakfast—as had Liam—and decided to take her duties as chaperone more judiciously.
Neither Skye nor Quinn spoke as he escorted her to the entrance, and Simmons opened the double doors for them. The sun had melted the morning frost on this side of the house, but Quinn was still careful as he guided her down the steps, lest she slip.
They circled the manor and, as directed, stepped onto the terrace and proceeded to wander its length. Wiggling his gloved fingers in a cocky manner, he winked at the dowager baroness as they passed the window.
Skye smothered the giggle rising to her throat at his antics, not at all certain in her current mood that Aunt Louisa would appreciate her mirth.
Her aunt gave him a somber nod before returning her attention back to her knitting. Skye hadn’t missed the corners of her aunt’s mouth twitching at his silliness.
Only he could take a severe situation and, with a dab of mirth, lighten the mood.
Tucking her palm more firmly into his elbow, Quinn placed his other hand atop hers. “I missed ye, Skye.”
She’d already learned he wasn’t a man prone to flowery phrases or poetic nonsense, despite his witticisms. He said what he thought and what was in his heart.
“I missed you, too. Very much.” So very much she feared her heart would truly break when he hadn’t returned when he said he would.
They’d reached the far end of the pavers, and she gasped, pointing to a frost-covered cobweb spun between a nearby shrub’s bare branches. “Oh, Quinn, look. It’s as delicate as spun lace. Isn’t it beautiful?”
“’Tis, indeed.” He smiled down into her upturned face, grazing a fingertip over her cheek. “Ye are far more exquisite.”
She permitted her eyelids to flutter closed, and a contented sigh whispered past her parted lips, certain he meant to kiss her.
“We’d best keep walkin’ else the dowager baroness will come lookin’ for us, love,” he murmured in his soft brogue.
That was another thing she adored about him. When he spoke, she could listen forever to the musical lilt of his deep voice. She opened her eyes to find dual green pools gazing at her longingly. Swallowing and wresting her desire under control, she yanked her gaze away.
They took up their stroll again, but they’d only gone a few paces before Skye chuckled. “I don’t understand the sudden need for all of this propriety. We’ve been alone many times before, and neither Liam nor Aunt Louisa was the least concerned. Why the sudden change?”
“Och, well, they’re nae numpty fools.” He cast a quick downward glance to meet her eyes before staring straight ahead once more. “They ken that I have the highest regard for ye.”
Regard?
That was a far cry from love; at least to her way of thinking.
Gaze lowered, she idly noted the soft crunching sound their feet made on the frosty flagstone. She had the highest regard for several men, none of whom made her breath hitch in her lungs, her heart beat with the cadence of a hundred African drums, or who made her feel wholly complete, as if her soul had found its other half.
Disappointment reared its pointy little head and proceeded to mockingly poke her with its sharp talons.
Had she misunderstood Quinn?
His happiness at seeing her again?
Surely not. He’d held her hand beneath the table, risking Liam’s wrath if caught.
But…he had been slightly reserved and lost in thought since entering the parlor. Just what had transpired between him and Liam?
They passed the salon windows, but neither glanced toward the house this time. She was afraid Aunt Louisa would read the frustration and pique on her countenance and mistake its cause. She hoped her bonnet’s brim hid her face sufficiently not to raise concern.
Skye brought her gaze up to meet Quinn’s pale green eyes. Gentleness and warmth glinted in their depths, yet a flintiness hardened his jaw that hadn’t been there at breakfast.
“Skye…?”
Drawing her to a stop next to a quaint wrought iron bench, he shifted his attention to the frost-laden lawns. This reticent man before her had replaced the charming, carefree rogue from breakfast. The air was surprisingly still and quiet, and if her nerves hadn’t been rattled by his change in demeanor, she would’ve savored the peace.
Instead, she studied the planes and angles of his face, the flexing muscles, the air of bleakness about him. Whatever he wanted to say, it wasn’t a marriage proposal. Dying a little inside, she forced her lips upward at the corners.
“Yes?” My, she sounded composed and not the least befuddled.
“I asked Liam for yer hand in marriage.” His mouth pulled into a taut ribbon, he gathered one of her hands in his. He didn’t act like a man who’d had his request granted. A man facing the gallows showed more cheer.
“What did he say?” Fearing she already knew the answer, she swallowed the sudden constriction in her throat.
How could Liam? How could he?
And what was more, why?
Why had he refused Quinn?
She knew why, the wretched addlepate.
I’ll never forgive him. I shan’t.
Because, even though Quinn was his close friend and welcome in his home, Liam considered him an irresponsible libertine.
Quinn wasn’t good enough for her.
But he is. He is p
erfect for me.
How dare Liam?
He’d only been her guardian for two months, and he thought he had the right to make such a life-altering decision for her? Without even discussing Quinn’s proposal with her? Didn’t she have any say in the matter?
She dragged in a juddery breath, putting a halt to her wildly cavorting thoughts. She must give Quinn time to explain before stirring herself in a froth.
He laced the fingers of his hand with hers, a wry smile playing about the edges of his mouth. The humor didn’t soften the rest of his features. “He dinna say aye, but I’m no’ ready to quit the field, just yet.”
Determination emphasized the last few words.
What, precisely, had Liam said then?
All her earlier cheer about the prospect of planning a Christmas celebration flew away on the whisper of a breeze that gently flicked her bonnet’s ribbons. She bit the inside of her cheek to smother a very unladylike retort about her cousin.
Quinn lifted her fingers to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Tell me I’m no’ mistaken, and ye return my affection? Because I vowed to him, and I shall to ye as well, if that is the case, I willna give up. Ever. I shall prove myself to him and ye and the whole world if I must.”
A tremulous smile bending her lips, Skye touched his cheek. “Oh, Quinn. I do return your affections. I…I love you, and I thought my heart broken when you didn’t return as you’d promised. I could see no future, no happiness, without you.”
Green fire sparked in his irises, and he dared edge nearer, until his thighs touched her cloak. “Skye, love, I am humbled and thrilled to hear those words from yer pretty lips. I love ye, my bonnie English lass. And I promise, somehow, we’ll be together. I’ve only to convince Liam that I can be a good husband to ye. That I can love and honor ye in the manner ye deserve.”
His sweet words caused her eyes to grow misty.
How she loved this man.
“We’d better continue our stroll,” he suggested with a side-eyed glance.
They resumed walking, lest Aunt Louisa send a servant in search of them.
“Why would Liam think otherwise?” she asked.
They’d reached the end of the terrace once more and turned to retrace their steps. Again, when they passed the salon window, he made a point of giving the dowager baroness a cheeky wave.
Chuckling, she shook her head.
“You are incorrigible, Quinn,” Skye admonished with a giggle. “Shouldn’t you be on your best behavior to win Aunt Louisa’s and Liam’s approval?”
Pointing his attention overhead, his countenance grew solemn once more. “Though I dinna consider myself to be a wicked man, Skye, I’ve no’ been a saint either. Liam kens this above all others. But he also kens how loyal and steadfast I am. And I’m countin’ on that to win him over. I confess, I admire him for protectin’ ye, even if it exasperates me.”
“We can convince him together,” she said. The Christmas house party might prove to be the perfect opportunity to do just that. “I’ll tell him I’ll have no other, and I know he won’t condemn me to a life of spinsterhood.”
At least she didn’t think he would.
Emeline and Kendra wouldn’t let him.
Neither, she strongly suspected, would Aunt Louisa. By no means was Skye a pampered, cossetted miss accustomed to having her own way. Even though an only child, her parents had taken great pains to ensure she wasn’t spoiled. However, in this instance, she would remain adamant.
She would be Quinn’s wife.
“I want ye to ken that I have my own fortune, Skye. That was one of the reasons I had to leave. I’ve been estranged from my family for some time, but I kent that to make ye my bride, I needed to set my affairs in order and accept my inheritance.”
“I’ll take you just the way you are, Quinn. That’s the man I fell in love with. You needn’t change anything for me.”
“I want to.” His arm tensed beneath her fingers, and she realized he spoke the truth. “Liam was surprised when I informed him that I possess my own wealth. He admitted to suspectin’ I might’ve had my eyes on yer inheritance.” Another rueful grin quirked his mouth. “If I wasna tryin’ to win his approval, I would’ve clocked him for the insult.”
Skye looked askance at him, all outraged, kittenish fury.
“I never for an instant considered you might be a fortune hunter.” She wrinkled her nose in remembered distaste. “I’ve been the unfortunate target of several previously—four to be exact—and I assure you, I know precisely what to look for. I’m surprised you’re not more offended that Liam would accuse you of such a dishonorable thing.”
He canted his head and hitched a shoulder. “He has reason to doubt me.”
She started to protest, but he held up his hand.
“Hear me out. I’ll have nae secrets between us. Ye must ken exactly the kind of man ye are agreein’ to spend the rest of yer life with.”
Examining his serious expression, she was half-afraid to hear what he wanted to tell her. Nevertheless, she dipped her chin. “Please, go on.”
“For the past decade, I’ve worked with a covert group to help no’ only West African slaves, but also children and adults forced into servitude and indentured service.” Scorn and wrath laced his snipped words.
Skye flinched, having never seen him angry before. He obviously had very strong feelings about these issues.
“I resigned my position because a married man needs to care for his wife and family foremost.” His sideways smile appeared almost apologetic. “It wouldna be honorable of me to take ye to wife, and then risk my life, kennin’ ye’d be left alone. Especially if there are wee bairns.”
A lovely feeling fluttered in her belly, because he’d make such a sacrifice for her. And because the idea of bearing his children thrilled mightily. It also humbled her and made her all that much more certain of his noble character.
“But,” he continued, “even though slavery and indentured service is legal, ye should ken that I shall continue to fight those atrocities in other ways.” A fierceness entered his voice and turned his visage stony. “I can never accept men enslavin’ their fellow man.”
Her eyes blurry from unshed tears, Skye nodded vigorously.
“I agree, Quinn. Slavery is awful. One time when I was in London with Mama and Papa, we saw people with their hands tied, being dragged onto a ship against their wills.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “There were small children crying and begging for their parents. I don’t understand how people can treat others like that.”
Quinn fished a handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to her.
After blotting her eyes and cheeks, she returned it to him. “Thank you. I didn’t think to bring a hankie out with me.”
“There are people who are good and decent and honorable to their verra core, and there are others who are rotten and foul to the marrow.” He scowled, brushing a gloved hand over his eyes as if unbearably weary or to erase a memory. “My father and grandfather were the latter. Ye should ken, they participated in the enslavement of innocent people. That’s why I was estranged from them, and why I refused my inheritance.”
She clasped a hand to her mouth, staring at him in horror and sympathy. “Oh, Quinn. I’m so sorry. How that must haunt you.”
“It did for a verra long time.” His expression grew intense, and he trailed his gaze over her face. “Until I met ye. Now though, leannan, I believe I can put that behind me, and I can use my monies to help others.” Mirth crinkled his eyes as he flicked the tip of her cold nose. “Isna that what Christmas is truly about? Carin’ for our fellow man?”
“It is, indeed.” Skye hadn’t a doubt her eyes shone with admiration and love. “What shall we do about Liam?”
A genuine smile wreathed his face. “My darlin’ bonnie lass, even though Liam has initially said nae, I believe he will eventually say aye. How can he stand in the way of true love?”
“He must agree, for as I said, I shall have no oth
er,” Skye vowed.
It was most unfortunate that Liam had control of her inheritance until she turned one and twenty. But she’d read her father’s will, and her bequeathment could not be withheld from her after that. For any reason.
Growing serious once more, Quinn urged her around the house’s corner. After looking in both directions, he enfolded her in his arms, and a delicious thrill zipped to her toes. He cupped her face with one hand, his emotion darkening his eyes to a riveting jade.
“Though I canna officially request yer hand, Skye, I humbly ask ye to consider becomin’ my wife.”
“Yes, Quinn. Yes. Yes.” The icy ache in her heart was thawing. Because of this brave, strong, and wonderfully unique man, she could feel happiness and joy again. “Yes, Quinn. I’ll marry you and, together, we’ll convince Liam that it is the best thing for both of us.”
“And if he still refuses?” He lowered his head until his lips were but an inch from hers.
Lifting onto her toes, she braced her hands on his shoulders, whispering, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Then his lips were on hers, taking her mouth in a searing kiss that made her forget all else.
Chapter Ten
The next fortnight was a whirlwind of activity. Invitations were sent out and accepted by all. Supplies were ordered, and instead of leaving to gather the various greeneries required to decorate Eytone Hall, Liam had requested the Duke of Roxdale to bring them with him.
The duke and his wards, Bethea and Branwen Glanville, had been the last to arrive two days ago with an entire wagon filled with various greens. Since then, amidst laughter and animated conversation, as well as copious amounts of tea, coffee, brandy, and various dainties, everyone had been about one task or another helping with the preparations.
With the help of Marjorie Kennedy, also an Englishwoman, Skye had delegated various responsibilities to others.
An air of anticipation and giddiness permeated Eytone Hall, and she smiled to herself more than once at the almost childish anticipation of the guests and her family. Quinn, too, seemed caught up in the spirit, although she’d come upon him deep in thought multiple times.