by Katy Baker
"Dinna worry, lass," Quinn said. "I'm not here to toss ye out. I just need to know if ye've seen Darcy."
"Yes," Lily replied. "She brought me here to see Fraser."
"So she was outside the room with ye?"
"She came to see who Fraser was talking to before I came in," Lily said, looking a little puzzled. "But she didn't stay for long."
A horrible suspicion was creeping up on Quinn. That sound he'd heard by the door. Could that have been Darcy? Had she been listening to his conversation with Fraser? How much of it did she overhear?
"What's wrong?" Rebecca asked, laying a hand on Quinn's arm.
"She's gone," Quinn croaked, suddenly certain of it. "She's left."
Lily's hands flew to her mouth. "Surely not!" she cried. "She wouldn't do that. Not after last time. She's happy here. What could possibly cause her want to leave?"
"I think she may have overheard something she shouldnae."
"But...but...she wouldn't leave. She doesn't know the land around here. Where would she go?"
The color drained from Rebecca's face. "She does know the land," she said.
"What do ye mean?" Quinn asked.
"Maps," Rebecca replied. "She's been studying our maps."
"Show me," Quinn commanded.
They left Lily and Fraser staring after and hurried upstairs to the map room. Once there Rebecca pulled out some of the ones Darcy had been working on. Two of them bore inscriptions in Darcy's neat hand and a route had been plotted from Dunbreggan to a point on the shore of the loch - a point near where Quinn had first found her.
"She's trying to get home," he breathed. He snatched the map and then whirled on his heel.
"Where are ye going?" Rebecca called after him.
"Where do ye think? To find her. Tell Robert I'll be back as soon as I can!"
"Be careful!" Rebecca cried as he stalked through the door. "Ye know there are Murray brigands about."
"Aye, that's what worries me," he muttered.
He tore through the castle and out to the stables. The startled stable boys saddled his horse in quick time and then Quinn was up and mounted, galloping along the causeway and out into the countryside, following the route Darcy had marked on the map. His heart thundered in his chest. His hands were slick where they held the reins. He was terrified. More terrified than he'd ever been. If anything happened to Darcy...
He didn't finish that thought. He'd find her. He'd find her and bring her safe home.
DARCY FOUND THE ROUTE much easier going than last time. For one, the time she'd spent administering to the MacFarlane animals meant she knew the landscape much better than she did before. Secondly the weather was being kind and it was a clear day with a light breeze that made traveling easy.
And thirdly she had a map. That always helped too, of course.
Darcy made good time as she traveled south. She'd found the trail easily and now followed it along the contours of the loch shore, pausing every time she came across a fork in the path so that she could check her route. Early on in her journey she’d encountered other travelers and farmers working in their fields. They all waved at Darcy and gave her a friendly greeting, no doubt assuming she was out on her rounds.
Each time she'd waved back, plastering a smile on her face, even though a lump formed in her throat. She'd never see these people again, these people who’d been so welcoming and accepted her into their hearts as though she was family. Each time she'd raised a hand and waved and whispered, "goodbye," under her breath.
After two hours of steady traveling she pulled the horse to a halt and dismounted, allowing her mount to graze whilst she stretched her arms over her head and worked the kinks out of her back. She took a sip of water from the leather bottle tied to the saddle. She'd not eaten anything since breakfast and in her haste to leave she hadn't bothered to pack any provisions. Still, it didn't matter. If all went to plan, she’d be stuffing her face in a twenty-first century restaurant in a few hours.
For some reason that thought filled her with sadness rather than excitement.
The horse suddenly raised her head and gave a whinny of recognition, her ears pricked forward. Darcy froze. A spike of alarm went through her. She scrambled back up the hillock to where she'd left the horse, heart thumping wildly.
Idiot! she chided herself. What if it's those brigands again?
But it wasn't. It was Quinn.
He'd pulled up his horse by her own and sat with his hands resting lightly on the pommel, watching her.
Darcy's heart thumped at the sight of him. She longed to run to him. She opened her mouth to call his name and then snapped it shut again. She brought to mind the words she'd overheard in Dunbreggan.
She’s my responsibility. I'll do my duty to her.
The memory was enough to harden her resolve. She stood her ground, crossed her arms and stared at him, waiting. Silence stretched between them and neither moved. The breeze picked up, sending Quinn's black braids streaming out behind him. Slowly, he shifted his weight and, with the creaking of leather, swung one leg over the saddle and dismounted. He pulled the reins over his horse's head and stood there, holding them lightly in one hand. Still he said nothing.
Annoyance bubbled in Darcy's stomach. What was he doing here? Had he come after her out of his twisted sense of duty again? Did he expect her to babble her gratitude as though she was some weak-willed girl who needed his protection?
Well, if he expected her to speak first he could go to hell. If he expected her to do as he wanted, he could go to hell. She wouldn't do what he wanted any more. She was going home and there was nothing Quinn MacFarlane could do to stop her.
QUINN GRIPPED HIS HORSE's reins to give his hands something to do. Otherwise he might just reach out and grab Darcy. He might pull her hard to him and hold her so close that she could never leave him again. But he knew instinctively that would be the wrong thing to do.
She stood only a few paces away but it may as well be a hundred miles. She wore that look on her face again. That fierce, determined look, that told him if he didn't tread very carefully he would pay a heavy price. So he just stood there, waiting for her to speak, knowing she wouldn't, and not being able to think of a damned word to say.
He'd ridden hard all morning. Darcy was no woods-woman and her trail was easy for any moderately trained tracker to follow. He'd not stopped to rest and his horse was lathered by the time he'd spied Darcy's own horse cropping grass in the distance. For a moment, sheer panic spiked through him as he spotted the horse rider less and then as Darcy emerged up the hillock, a strange mix of relief, joy and anger had enveloped him.
He'd thought it best not to speak. If he had, he wasn't sure what would've come out of his mouth. A tirade of angry words at her desertion? A hundred questions as to her welfare? Or would he have simply begged her to return with him, baring his soul in the process?
"Darcy," he said finally. "It seems I spend half my life chasing after ye. What are ye doing out here?" He already knew the answer to that question of course, but he had to say something to break the silent tension between them.
Darcy snorted. "Well I thought I'd take in the morning air. It's said to be good for your health." Her voice was heavy with sarcasm and Quinn winced. She wasn't going to make this easy on him.
"If it were yer health ye are worried about, riding out on yer own when there's brigands about isn't the way to help it."
"Is that so? Well, I think I'll take my chances. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd best be on my way."
She took a step towards her horse but Quinn moved to block her path. She glared at him.
"I'd thank you to get out of my way."
Quinn held a hand. "Now, listen, lass-"
"If you're going to tell me what to do again, you can keep your god-damned mouth shut!" Darcy snapped. "I'm leaving."
"No yer not, lass," Quinn growled.
"And how are you going to stop me? Tie me up and throw me over your saddle?"
"Aye, if
that's what it takes to make ye listen!"
"Try it!" she hissed. "I don't think you'll find it that easy."
Quinn scrubbed a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. This wasn't going how he wanted. "Listen, lass, please. I've ridden a long way to find ye. The least you can do is hear me out."
She narrowed her eyes and then crossed her arms again. "You’ve got one minute."
"Very well. But first, answer me one question. Why did ye ride out here? Why did you leave like that? Without even saying goodbye?"
"Because I have to go," Darcy replied. The defiance had gone from her voice and now it was filled with hurt instead. "Because I heard what you said to Fraser. I have a little self-esteem left, Quinn. I won't stay with a man who doesn't really want me."
Her words were like a sword thrust to his guts. The raw pain in her voice twisted his insides.
"Oh, Darcy," he said. "Ye should have come to me. Why do ye never speak to me about these things? Ye should have given me a chance to explain. If ye'd stayed perhaps ye'd have heard the rest of that conversation."
He risked taking a step closer and was pleased when she didn't back away. "If ye'd stayed ye'd hear me tell Fraser how my duty to you is no real duty at all. It's the opposite in fact. It's a joy because I love ye. I love ye so much it takes my breath." He shook his head. "When I learned ye'd left... I've never been so terrified in all my life."
"I...I..." Darcy stammered. She straightened her shoulders and glared at him again. "So why did you say those things about duty to Fraser?"
"Because I'm a fool. I'm a fool who tries to appear strong, even when I'm not. Even when I want to sing it to the world how I really feel about ye."
"And how is that?" Darcy asked.
"Lord, above! How many times must I say it? Do ye want me to shout it to the skies? Very well." He threw his arms wide, leaned back and bellowed in his best battle-voice, "I love Darcy Greenway!"
His words echoed off the rocks around them and seemed to take an age to fade into silence. Darcy's eyes went wide and he saw tears glittering in them. She came to him slowly, like a nervous animal and then gently laid her hand in his.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "When things get tough I have a habit of running away. My bad. It was just hard to hear you say that to Fraser because I've loved you for a long time, Quinn."
The breath left him in a whoosh. It was such a relief to hear her say those words. He felt as though a weight lifted from around his neck. He took both her hands in his and kissed them. Then he leant down and placed his forehead against hers. This close he could smell her. That warm, beautiful scent that was uniquely her.
"Stay with me, Darcy. Forever," he whispered. "Say ye'll be my wife."
DARCY STARED AT QUINN, struggling to process what she'd heard. Had Quinn just asked her to marry him? She wanted to believe it. Good god, she wanted to believe it more than anything.
She opened her mouth and closed it again. Then tried a second time. "I..." she stammered. "I beg your pardon?"
Quinn cupped her face in his large, strong hands and looked down into her eyes with a gaze so intense it took her breath away. God, she could drown in those eyes of his.
"I said, will ye agree to be my wife, Darcy Greenway?"
So. It hadn't been a dream. It was real. This beautiful, strong, amazing man was asking her to be his. Forever.
Darcy began to tremble. She looked up into Quinn's eyes, although now she could barely see him for the tears swimming in her own.
"Yes," she whispered. "Of course I'll marry you."
A grin spread over his face and it was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. Then he gave a whoop of delight, picked Darcy up by the waist and spun her round until they were both laughing and breathless. Only then did he put her down and she stumbled against him, her palms going against his hard chest. One of his hands went round her waist to steady her, the other lifted her chin gently.
"Ye have no idea how happy ye've made me," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I'll be a good husband to ye, love. I swear I'll spend my life trying to make ye happy."
Darcy nodded then reached up, tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him down to kiss him. His arms tightened around her, pulling her against him.
A deep ache lit in her body, tingling along her nerves. She wanted him. Needed him. God, she wanted him more than she'd wanted anything.
Before she knew it, she was pulling him down into the grass and he followed eagerly. His hands explored her body, gently brushing down her back then along her sides. She grabbed his plaid and tugged, managing to get it over his head so his chest and shoulders were exposed.
"Are ye sure ye want this, love?" he murmured.
"I'm sure," she answered breathlessly.
It was all the permission he needed. He flipped her onto her back in the soft grass. His lips found her earlobe, gently licking and nibbling whilst his hand slipped under her top and the tips of his fingers circled her nipple. She gasped, arching her back as his grip hardened, caressing and kneading her breast, his tongue darting in and out of her ear.
He was good at this. Holy crap, he was good at this.
He pulled at her shirt and she obliged by yanking it over her head and tossing it away. Her bra went next and she lay back, skin prickling in the cool air. Quinn paused, his eyes roving over her bare torso.
"Lord, but ye are beautiful," he whispered. "So beautiful."
He bent his head and took a dusky pink nipple in his mouth. Darcy groaned, her eyes sliding closed as delicious sensations rippled through her body. Dimly a part of her worried that they were out in the open where anyone could see. But another part of her didn't care. She'd seen nobody for hours and the horses had wandered away up the hill to graze. There was nobody here but her and Quinn.
This was their place, their moment.
Quinn's hand roved lower, undid the zip of her jeans with an expert hand and slid down into her panties. The hard pad of his thumb found her sweet spot and gently began to caress the nub. Darcy jerked under him, screwing her eyes tight shut as something akin to electricity shot through her. She moaned and writhed, every nerve seeming to come alive.
Quinn grabbed her jeans and yanked them down. Darcy kicked them away, her panties following. Quinn's plaid was only tied round the waist and the sight of his semi-naked body sent Darcy giddy with desire. The way the plaid tented round his groin told her just how much he wanted her. She grabbed the knot that held the plaid and tugged it roughly. It tore a little as it came free but neither of them cared.
The plaid fell away and Quinn lay in the grass beside her. Darcy's eyes roved hungrily over his body. His manhood stood proud and straight, a thin sheen of sweat highlighting the contours of his thighs and the muscles of his stomach.
Almost hesitantly Darcy reached out and ran her fingers along the length of his shaft. His eyes slid closed and he moaned. Loving the power she held over him, she moved her hand, stroking him slowly, sensually, until his muscles were almost quivering with need.
"Ye must stop that, love," he said. "If ye carry on I dinna think I can hold off taking ye."
"Who says I want you to hold off?" she asked in a breathless whisper.
With a growl, he rolled on top of her, his weight pinning her to the grass. The heat of his skin against hers sent her pulse wild. She felt reckless and full of need. She ran her hands down the bare skin of his back, feeling the dips and ripples of his muscles. He stared down into her eyes as he nudged her knees apart. The tip of his manhood bumped the spot between her legs and she tilted her hips towards him.
Slowly, eyes locked on hers, Quinn eased himself inside her. She welcomed him, tilting herself up to meet him, taking all of him deep inside. A breath hissed through his teeth and she felt his muscles bunch as he slowly began to thrust. It felt amazing. It felt...right.
She was consumed, lost in this man. In his smell, his presence, the sensation of his body atop and inside hers. For that moment, as he slowly made love to
her on the soft grass, there was only him, only him in the whole world.
She moved in time with him, her hips rising to meet his thrusts, her hands caressing his back, one leg wrapped around his waist. Their tempo increased, becoming more urgent, more frantic. Little gasps of pleasure escaped Darcy as the fire burning inside began to increase, to rage into an inferno. Quinn growled each time he thrust, their bodies coming together in a tangled heat of passion.
"I love ye," Quinn whispered as he thrust deep inside. "I love ye."
It was too much. The fire ignited like gasoline, burning along Darcy's nerves, incinerating all thought. She arched her back, threw her head back and screamed Quinn's name into the sky as her climax swept her away. A moment later Quinn shuddered as he reached his own peak.
For a long, unknowable moment they just lay there, tangled with each other, Quinn still buried inside her. Then he rolled onto his back and pulled her into the crook of his arm. Fuzzy with sated desire, Darcy nestled against him, resting her head against his shoulder and throwing an arm across his hard chest.
"Well," she murmured dreamily. "That was worth waiting for."
A laugh rumbled in Quinn's chest and he kissed the top of her head. "There's plenty more where that came from, love."
"Hmm. I like the sound of that."
Quinn grabbed his plaid and pulled it over the two of them. Darcy snuggled closer, loving the sensation of his hot skin against hers, of the smell of him all around her. She could lay her forever. She drifted into sleep.
Some time later Quinn woke her with a kiss. He was lying propped on one elbow, watching her with a slight smile on his face.
"How long have I been asleep?" she asked.
"An hour or so."
"Why didn't you wake me?"
He shrugged. "I like watching ye sleep. Ye look so peaceful. Apart from the snoring of course."
"I don't snore!" she threw a mock punch at his shoulder.
With a laugh he caught her hand and kissed the back of it. "Oh ye do, lass. Loud enough to wake the dead."