Smitten by the Spinster Read online

  “I canna believe how terrible I am at fishing,” she said, trying not to roll her eyes. “Am I doing it right?” As if she didn’t regularly bring home supper, whether it be fish or fowl or even a deer. She was a very good hunter and fisherwoman, but she once again copied what she saw the other girls do, which was act like they couldn’t do anything, all to make their chosen target feel important.

  Edwin smiled kindly and adjusted her stance for her, helping her recast her line. She tried to shake away her bitter anger. Edwin was no worse than anyone she’d met, and he seemed sincerely nice in most things. She didn’t respect him, having sussed out that he was in debt due to his own shortcomings, but she couldn’t blame him for trying to salvage his estates and family’s name, even if it meant marrying her without loving her. It made her unaccountably sad to be an heiress, because once she figured out what to do about Lachlan, she truly wanted to fall in love and be married. But due to her fortune, she’d never be sure if a man really loved her or only wanted to pay off his debts.

  She thought of Oliver, who wasn’t at the Hollingsborn estate that day, and smiled her first real smile in more than a week. Edwin smiled back and nodded encouragingly, pointing to some fish he saw swimming under the water. Well, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to let him think Oliver’s smile belonged to him.

  If anyone seemed interested in her for herself, it was Oliver. It was probably because he counted himself too young to marry just yet, so viewed her only as a friend. The strolls they took under the hateful eyes of Miss Burnet and Quinn were full of lively conversations about everything from animals to world travel. He surprisingly thought it was quite fascinating that she came from so far away, and earnestly assured her he wanted to visit Scotland some day. He’d even gone so far as to shyly hint he was interested in seeing her far northern farm, and her aunt’s land that was closer to the coast.

  Even with Oliver, who was the easiest person to be around, she had a hard time concentrating on anything other than what really happened to Lachlan. She wanted desperately to talk about it to someone, try to get another point of view, but knew she’d be seen as mad. She longed to ask Quinn straight out what really happened, see if he flinched at all. He was such a seasoned liar, she knew she wouldn’t bother trying.

  Edwin cleared his throat uncomfortably and she noticed that the object of her scorn was striding toward them, Miss Burnet on his arm, as usual. In any other circumstance, Catie would have been sure they were just having a flirtation, but since she’d seen the letters, she’d done the simple addition necessary to figuring out that her brother hadn’t hired her chaperone by chance. Using all her dwindling energy to make her face pass for pleased, she greeted Quinn and Miss Burnet.

  “Have ye not caught anything yet, lass?” Her wicked brother asked, outing her usefulness.

  He then further mortified her by towering over Edwin, causing his face to go purple, and probably gripping his hand too tight. Did he want her to get married or not? It would serve him right if she married someone he hated. To be contrary, she moved closer to Edwin. When she caught Miss Burnet’s eye and saw her knowing smile, she had to tamp down her anger. She’d been fooled by Miss Burnet’s so-called kindness for exactly the amount of time it took her to figure out she was probably involved in Lachlan’s disappearance and definitely involved in time traveling, then she hadn’t trusted her one bit.

  “Edwin is teaching me,” she said, her voice laced with syrupy sweetness. Quinn raised a brow, and she couldn’t be sure if it was due to her tone or the fact that she’d boldly used Edwin’s first name. “I’m sure I’ll catch something eventually.”

  “Even if she doesn’t, we’ll still have a fine dinner,” Edwin said, trying to be funny.

  Catie did her new tinkling laugh, which turned into a real one at Quinn’s look of horror. She could tell he wanted to shake her and ask her where the real Catie’d got to, and part of her wanted him to. The part of her that wished she was still just a Scottish farm girl, that wished she could still trust her brother. She had to look out at the lake to keep anyone from seeing her eyes well up. Thankfully another harsh gust of wind blew past so she could blame her watering eyes on that if she had to.

  Miss Burnet grabbed Quinn’s arm to keep from being swept into the lake. The wind had really picked up and Catie could see some black clouds rolling in from the north. Perhaps they were from Scotland.

  “My goodness,” Miss Burnet said. She was really quite good at being a damsel in distress, clutching at Quinn’s arm and leaning into him. “Perhaps we should go indoors.”

  Catie couldn’t help but take notes, and when the next gale blew past, she tottered and grabbed Edwin’s sleeve, half hating herself and half having fun. Edwin was handsome in his blond, green-eyed way, with nice broad shoulders. The arm she now held onto as if for dear life was firm under her hand. And it didn’t hurt that Quinn looked like he wanted to pry her fingers off and toss Edwin into the now churning waves of the lake.

  “Aye, it’s going to let loose any second now,” he said, glaring at Edwin.

  Edwin waved around at the others who were fishing, pointing up at the house. The rowers were being tossed around as they furiously made their way back to the dock. If Catie’s dark mood hadn’t surpassed the storm, she might have been a bit alarmed at the sudden squall.

  They were soaked nearly to the bone by the time they were half across the huge lawn, and Edwin kept a tight hold on her hand so she wouldn’t slip. By the time they made it to the covered terrace, they were drenched, and turned to watch the stragglers trying to fight their way through the torrent.

  Catie and the other ladies of the party huddled, shivering and wringing out their skirts, until a few maids came to show them upstairs, herding them into different bedrooms and promising towels and hot water. Miss Burnet helped her out of her dress and wrapped her in a dressing gown before wrestling herself out of her own sodden clothes. Catie took pity on her and helped with the laces.

  “I’ve lived in England my entire life, and I’ll never cease to be amazed at how horrid the weather can turn,” Miss Burnet said, peeling off her shift and putting on another dressing gown. They spread their clothes in front of a newly stoked fire.

  “Aye, Scotland’s quite the same,” Catie said miserably. “Are we trapped here for the night, do ye think?”

  Miss Burnet swiveled around and looked at her, confused. “Aren’t you having a good time?”

  She sounded so concerned, it almost hurt Catie’s heart, so wanting things to be the way they seemed. She would have given anything for Miss Burnet to truly like her and want the best for her, and not be involved in some strange plot to keep Lachlan away.

  A sudden idea wrenched its way into her jumble of theories. What if Miss Burnet were trying to help get her brother back? Those instructions were to get her to the future, which was presumably where Lachlan was. Perhaps Miss Burnet was trying to rescue him.

  Catie’s moods had been swinging so violently the past week, she barely knew up from down, and this new thought that struck her hit hard, knocking her for a loop. Every thought she’d had lately bordered on the kind of madness that got one locked away. Deep down she had the niggling fear she had created a fantasy because, as horrible as it was, it was better than Lachlan being dead.

  “Catie, sweetheart, are you all right? You’re quite pale.” Miss Burnet reached out and felt her brow, the last straw.

  Catie dissolved into pathetic tears. “I miss my brother, Lachlan,” she admitted, too tired to make anything up. Because she was so tired, she let Miss Burnet hug her. “He was a bit stony-hearted, but I did love him.”

  “Oh, poor dear,” she said, patting her hair as she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’d like to take a wee nap, if ye think I may?” Catie never knew what would be frowned upon.

  Miss Burnet hustled around her, turning down the blankets on the bed and fluffing the pillows. “Certainly. They can’t expect us back downstairs any time soon,” she sai
d, pointing to their damp clothes. She patted the mattress. “Come along and lie down. I shall make myself very small in the corner and not make a peep.”

  “Thank ye, Miss Burnet,” Catie said, letting herself be tucked in like a wee child.

  Her eyes burned from her many recent sleepless nights and the tears that hadn’t quite stopped yet. As she rested her head against the cool, smooth pillow, she thought Miss Burnet might take pity on her and tell her something comforting, perhaps something truthful that would give Catie a bit of much needed hope. But she merely stroked her hair for a moment before settling quietly in the corner armchair like she’d promised.

  Chapter 12

  Lizzie curled into a plushly upholstered chair and pulled the dressing gown tighter around her legs, wishing there was something she could do for Catie. She felt clumsy in her awkward attempt to pat her hair and pull the blankets over the weeping girl, remembering how despondent she’d been in the months after her grandmother had died. Some days things would seem normal and some days the grief would pile on her like a rockslide, or just trip her up like an unexpected bump in a sidewalk and make it feel impossible to carry on. And you never knew which it would be or when it was coming.

  Something might have made Catie suddenly remember her brother, or maybe she’d been fighting her sadness for days. She’d seemed different lately. Her change started sometime after the first ball, and Lizzie feared someone might have said something untoward to her, but the mood had lingered. Catie had gone from a bright, vivacious and curious girl to someone acting like that person. And not doing a very convincing job of it, Lizzie thought wryly. It took an actor to see through someone else carrying on a front, and Catie was doing just that.

  Of course, now it all made sense. As far as Lizzie knew, Lachlan Ferguson had died fairly recently, and now Catie was thrust into a completely foreign situation. And it all came crashing down on her all at once. Lizzie resolved to speak with Lady Hollingsborn at the first opportunity. There was no reason to continue making Catie go to party after party if she was firmly engaged. Lizzie herself would feel better knowing Catie’s future was assured when she went back to her own time.

  She turned her gaze from her fitfully sleeping charge and rested her eyes on the fire. Less than two weeks and she’d be home. She prayed and hoped and crossed her fingers. Once she got back, it was going to be a mess trying to explain her disappearance, but she’d find a way. The thought of the press that would surely be involved turned her stomach, but the publicity, no matter how unpleasant, would hopefully help her find a new job. For a moment she couldn’t help wondering what had happened with her last big audition for that action movie, and who got the role she wanted, who the leading man ended up being.

  Foolishly, her mind wandered to Quinn. The ultimate leading man, and perfect action hero to boot. She blushed at her idiocy and tried to veer back onto more practical thoughts, but couldn’t help feeling a sense of calm when Quinn crossed her mind. If Lord Ashford couldn’t get her home, would it be so very awful if she got to spend more time with Quinn?

  Her heart thudded nearly to a halt. Yes, it would be so very awful and she needed to stop being so fanciful. This wasn’t her time and she didn’t belong here. Her hopes and dreams were all left in the twenty-first century and she’d never be truly happy in this time, regardless of any brawny Scot and his deep blue eyes.

  A soft knock made her jump out of the chair and run to open it before they knocked again and woke Catie. She opened it wide, thinking it would be footmen with hot water, and quickly shut it all but a crack when Quinn stood in the doorway, wearing some very ill-fitting but dry clothes, his hair still slightly damp and tousled. Her fingers curled in the fabric of her robe, wanting to smooth the disheveled locks. She groaned out loud.

  “That happy to see me?” he asked and she shushed him, opening the door a bit wider and nodding at Catie’s sleeping form.

  “She’s resting,” Lizzie said sharply, still irked at herself for getting thrown every time she saw him.

  He raised a brow. “Worn out from all the flirting, no doubt,” he grumbled.

  Lizzie sighed, glanced down at herself and seeing that she was as covered as she could be, pushed him back into the hall and followed him out, hoping no one else would be around. He too gazed down her body, smiling a little at her stocking feet. She blushed, highly doubting he was scandalized, and gave him her best spinster stare.

  “Actually, she’s quite distraught.”

  Quinn’s mocking smile instantly turned to concern. “What is it?” he asked, ready to push past her into the room.

  She held out her hand, meeting his chest with her palm. The solid muscle under her hand almost made her forget what she was about to say to him.

  Frowning, she dropped her hand. “She misses your brother.”

  He deflated and took a step back, his blue eyes full of their own sadness. “Ah, poor wee thing.” He paced a step and then turned. “I dinna think we’ll be able to leave this evening as we planned. It’s still raining and apparently the road back to town is easily flooded. That’s what I came to tell ye,” he said. “Young Lord Hollingsborn is going on about the festivities he’s going to have for us tonight since we’ll have to stay. Music and cards and such.”

  “She’ll be all right by then. A bit of sleep will fix her right up.”

  He frowned at her. “If she doesna want to come down, I dinna think we should make her.”

  His concern for Catie felt dangerously close to melting her icy heart and she hurriedly backed toward the bedroom door. “I’ll tell her of course,” she stammered, slipping into the safety of the room. “I shall keep you informed.” She didn’t want Catie to be further distressed, but she so wanted to sit next to Quinn and listen to music.

  He smiled at her, knowingly or teasingly, either way it made her heart pound. Then he bowed his head before retreating. “I thank ye, Miss Burnet.”

  She carefully closed the door, barely making a click, and turned to find Catie still fast asleep. She turned the clothes and laid them closer to the fire, hoping that Catie felt well enough to go down later. For the first time in more than a year, she looked forward to something. She only had a little less than two weeks left here and she wanted to spend it with Quinn.

  ***

  Quinn thundered back to the room he’d been given, his mood as bleak as the weather. It was bad enough the clothes he’d borrowed were too tight everywhere, and now he’d have to spend more time than they’d planned at the simpering Lord Hollingsborn’s estate. The man wasn’t good enough by miles for Catie and he didn’t understand why she fell all over him. Really, none of the lads he’d met in the past weeks were good enough. The young neighbor, Oliver, was the only one he came close to liking, but Miss Burnet assured him he wasn’t interested in marriage yet.

  He reminded himself, it wasn’t him that had to like them, it was Catie. And she clearly saw something in Edwin Hollingsborn. It fairly turned his stomach, but he resolved to be civil to him that evening, maybe even endeavor to get to know him. He was always being told he intimidated people, which he really didn’t mean to do most of the time. He couldn’t help how tall he was, the same as Catie couldn’t help having a rich mother. Both blasted inconveniences.

  In his room, he shook out his clothes and hung them up as close to the fire as he dared, so they’d be dry in time for dinner and the festivities, if Catie felt well enough to go down for them. He had a double blast of guilt, because he really wanted to spend the evening in the company of the fair Miss Burnet, and because it was half his fault Catie was grieving Lachlan. Half, because he might have told her the truth. Even though Catie would never get to see Lachlan again, it was a far sight better than believing him dead.

  The other half rested squarely with Lachlan and the damn fool thing he had gone and done. There seemed no way to tell her the truth at this point. She’d think he finally drank too much raw whiskey and pickled his brains. The leaving was on Lachlan for sure, but it was
difficult being the one left behind to mind the pieces that scattered everywhere. He’d never be certain he’d made the right decision in keeping the truth from her. He’d just have to live with it. Catie would be fine when she was all settled.

  He got out of his borrowed clothes and lay down on the bed, letting the fire warm his bones and resting his mind for a moment on something more pleasant than his sister’s unhappiness.

  Miss Burnet had looked as pretty as ever, swaddled as she was in a massive dressing gown, only the tips of her toes peeping out. She’d actually blushed that he’d seen her feet. He’d like to hold her wee foot in his hands, caress her slender ankle as he slid her stockings down, then kiss her bare leg all the way up ...

  He stopped abruptly, his thoughts getting a bit too pleasant, the room becoming a bit too warm. Rolling away from the fire, he tried to get his thoughts on a more even keel. She was a fine young lady, and had been more than kind to his sister. It seemed evident she had Catie’s best interests at heart, the way she tirelessly helped her with her dress and manners. He saw the encouraging looks Miss Burnet gave her when she thought she might have faltered.

  Lizzie was beautiful, intelligent, and made him laugh. He didn’t understand why she should have remained unmarried, and wondered if there was a dramatic tale of heartbreak in her past. She puzzled him, sometimes seeming so shockingly forward, almost as if she wanted to share a secret with him, and then suddenly pulling away like a spooked rabbit, back to her burrow of propriety. But he liked puzzles. He liked a challenge, and wanted to see if he could get closer to her, close enough to see what she was really about.