Page 8 of A Scottish Lord for Christmas
“Let me escort you,” he murmured, his low voice a little gruff as he met her gaze.
They walked over the rocky path to where Leo and Ivy had set out a light picnic.
“There you are!” Ivy smiled. “I was worried you’d vanished. They say the fairies still roam these hills, you know.” Her honey-brown eyes twinkled as she offered Rowena and Quinn plates of food.
Rowena settled herself onto the corner of the large woolen blanket, just a foot from Quinn. The small space between them seemed to crackle with energy and her body still hummed from that almost-kiss.
“Do you believe in fairies, Ivy?” Leo asked. He and Quinn shared amused looks, one Rowena had seen upon her father’s face too often. Indulgence and amusement.
Ivy continued to smile. “I suppose I do. Gypsy culture is full of superstition and beliefs. Fairies are a natural part of that.”
Rowena nibbled on a bit of cheese as she studied the hilltop. It was easy to imagine a dozen glowing sprites dancing about the ruins, calling upon their magic to whisk away unsuspecting travelers. She caught Quinn’s lips curled in a crooked, charming grin, as though he was inwardly laughing at the conversation. But the moment he noticed her watching him, the smile vanished and his eyes darkened with shadows again. Was he afraid to enjoy himself?
“What about you, Quinn?” she asked, curious to see what a Scottish lord would say.
“Oh, aye, the wee folk. I’d be lying if I said I dinna believe in them. There is a reason I never leave my daughter unattended for long. A human bairn is a prized trophy for the fairies.” Quinn’s tone was serious, but the glint in his eyes warned Rowena he was teasing her.
“Very funny,” she laughed. The Scot chuckled and stole a glance at her, their eyes meeting. A flush crept across her skin and she prayed it would not pinken her cheeks too much. She’d known men could be snobbish, stubborn, and prideful—at least that had been her older sister’s experience—but Quinn’s behavior didn’t fit with what her sister had said about men.
“Quinn, I believe we might be in the presence of two fairy queens ourselves.” Leo chuckled and Ivy shot him a smile and everyone laughed.
The next half hour was pleasant and not too awkward as the four finished their picnic and talked about mutual friends back in London.
“I’ll take the picnic basket back to the Stanley,” Leo announced.
“I’ll help you.” Ivy collected the plates.
Quinn rose and stretched in a show of leonine grace. “I’d like one more tour about the ruins,” he said.
Rowena watched Ivy and Leo preparing the basket, and they didn’t seem to need her assistance. Could she be bold enough to offer to go with Quinn alone to see the ruins once more? She wanted to be with him again, just to talk, or not talk. It was so easy to be around him, yet he filled her with a wild excitement that she wanted to experience again.
Yes, yes, I can be bold.She squared her shoulders and stood.
“May I accompany you, Quinn?” Rowena asked, hating how breathless she sounded.
“Of course.” He waved for her to join him. The thought of it sent a flurry of nervous butterflies through Rowena. Was it being close to any man orthisman that made her feel so…strangely excited?
They walked up the sloping hills and paused beside an archway. Below them the distant figures of Leo and Ivy were fast becoming as small as ants as they traipsed down the hills to the motorcar. The once-faraway clouds began to roll overhead. It would likely rain soon.
“Are you bound for London after this house party?” Rowena lifted her yellow skirts, following Quinn as he strolled idly through the crumbling edifice. She paused again by the window ledge he’d lifted her up onto earlier, remembering how having him hold her close had been…wonderful.
“I suppose,” Quinn mused as he came around the other side of the window and leaned one elbow on the ledge to watch her.
“You are not certain, then?” A breeze tugged a lock of her pale hair free of its carefully arranged coiffure. Before she could tuck it safely back into place, Quinn reached over and stroked the unruly lock of hair behind her left ear. His warm fingertips lingered against the line of her jaw, the touch burning in a delicious way that made her tingle all over.
“I might stay here a while longer.” Quinn’s sensual lips parted slightly as his eyes dropped to her mouth. “If something persuades me to stay.”
Without conscious thought, Rowena started to lean forward, hoping he’d lean closer, too, and he’d kiss her. Her heart pounded as he stared at her lips and started to lean in—and that was when the skies overhead opened up and rain fell in the thick, hard sheets.
Damnation!She’d wanted to kiss him.
“Come, we must return to the car,” Quinn ordered gruffly, briefly disappearing from view. Gasping, Rowena looked about for her plaid cloak. It was a particular favorite and she didn’t want to lose it. The cold rain was thick and hard upon her skin as it poured from the clouds, forming a heavy mist upon the warm earth of the ruins.
“Devil take it,” Rowena cursed, brushing her hair away from her face. The rain had tugged down the delicate coiffure and it hung lank about her shoulders. “Where did I leave that cloak?” She clutched her skirts, trying in vain to find the garment.
“Rowena?” Quinn’s shout was muffled by the rumbling build of thunder. She’d have to leave it behind.
Lightning flashed above her, the bright light sharp and piercing. Her foot caught on a stone and she cried out as she fell. Something sharp twisted in her already hurting ankle and pain lanced up her entire leg.
