Smitten by the Spinster (7 page)

“This is from my time,” she said, showing Lew the paper and envelope. Lew ran his thumb over the still sticky underside of the flap. “He must have been in my time, or thereabouts.”

“What does it say, Lizzie?” Lew asked, his voice strained.

“Oh! Yes, of course.” She held it so they could both read it at the same time.

Miss Elizabeth Burnet,

My apologies for the delay. If I am correct it is now 1729 and you have been gone from your own time for a year or more. Rest assured I am doing all that is in my power to recover you. The portal to that particular time is difficult to project, even with near constant monitoring. By my calculations, however, I seem to have devised a pattern. There are two dates that should be in your near future, that I believe I should be able to come through and fetch you. If my first assumption proves incorrect, please do not fear. Merely arrange to meet me for the second date. I am sorry they are so few and far between.

—  Ashford

The first date was less than a month away, with a meeting time down to the second, late in the evening. Her pounding heart sank to see that the second date, should the first one fail, was another year away. She sat with the paper getting crumpled in her sweaty hands until Lew gently pulled it out of her grasp.

“Let me copy these dates and times, dear,” he said, taking the paper with him. “One moment.”

He left, while she sat trembling on the bench. The times and dates were burned into her brain, the news that she finally had a light at the end of the tunnel not yet sunk in. Lew returned, pressing the neatly folded note into her hand.

“Lock that away, child,” he said, looking unaccountably frightened. “You don’t want anyone to find it.”

She nodded, turning away so she could stuff it down her bodice, worried she’d lose it if she put it in her reticule. Could it be possible that she’d be home in a month? The news finally hit her and she had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from making a noise. Lew squeezed her shoulder.

“This is it,” he said. “The time will be upon us before we know it.” He looked a little sad, as if he would miss her.

She couldn’t think about that right now. She wanted to run through the streets, tear off her corset, set it on fire in Lady Amberly’s garden and dance on its ashes while she laughed at everyone’s horror at her impropriety. Then she could use her meager savings to hide out in an inn until the day arrived, drinking and trying to think of a possible explanation for her disappearance and long absence.

“Lizzie, you should get back to your young lady, should you not?” he asked, shaking her out of her dazzling day dream.

“Of course,” she said, getting up and straightening her clothes, patting some life back into her cheeks. “Oh dear, I left Catie and her brother at the dressmaker.”

Of course, she had to get back to the way things were. There would be no corset bonfire and no drunken month-long binge. Not when there was the possibility of the first date not working. She’d have another long year here if that were the case.

“Thank you, Lew,” she said.

He offered to find William or another boy to walk with her, but she waved away the offer, too shaken and excitable to be able to walk primly beside some kid. She needed to stomp off some of her nervous energy before she got back to Catie and Quinn.

Quinn. The thought of him took some of the spring out of her step as she got closer to Miss Juliet’s shop. The one thing she couldn’t do was lose her grip just because she might only have another month here. She had to stay on top of things until the last second, until she landed securely back in her own time. She would take Catie around to the parties, introduce her to a titled gentleman who needed her fortune to fix his roof or settle his gambling debts, and she would stop noticing how well Quinn filled out his clothes. If only Lady Amberly hadn’t invited him to stay at the townhouse. How was she going to live with him for the next month?

***

Having Quinn in the house didn’t turn out to be the trauma she thought it would. She’d thought she’d have to spend all her free time skulking in her room, but Quinn turned out to be surprisingly mellow. He’d come upon her in the sitting room the first evening, and before she could flee, he merely chose a book from the shelf, and settled his large frame onto one of the couches.

“Please dinna mind me, lass,” he said, as she goggled at him like an idiot.

His whole body relaxed into the cushions as he opened the book and began to read. He looked so cozy and inviting, she wanted to curl up in his lap and purr.

“Do you like to read?” she asked, mentally kicking herself for opening her mouth when he seemed content to ignore her.

He glanced up, taking a moment to focus on her. His direct gaze rattled her, so unlike many of the men of the time, who either leered uncomfortably or scanned past her like she was a piece of furniture.

“Aye. Things have been quite eventful of late and I havena had the chance as much as I like. I’m grateful to have a bit of peace.”

Abashed at disturbing him, she left him alone. After a while, she became accustomed to seeing him turn the page of his book out of the corner of her eye, and after an hour or so, he invited her to play chess. She agreed without thinking, she felt so comfortable with him.

She beat him, badly, and suspected he let her, or at least was a very good sport about it.

“What sort of things kept you from having time to read?” she asked as they set up a new game. He raised a brow at her and she blushed, hoping she wasn’t prying.

“Ah, difficulties with a neighboring clan. I was accused of kidnapping. Falsely of course.”

“Of course,” she interjected, trying not to let her jaw drop.

“She was my brother’s wife, and I was escorting her back to our land while he, ah, tended to some other things. I knew the marriage was false from the start, but didna know her father was privy to it as well.”

“Oh dear,” Lizzie said.

He glanced at her with a wry smile. “It mostly worked out in the end.”

She remembered with dismay that his brother had recently died. She opened her mouth to apologize and beg him to say no more on what had to be a distressing subject, but he reached across and tapped her lightly on the hand with his king.

“The board is set, shall we start anew?”

The mood lightened during the second game as he told her about his farm. Though she was a city girl through and through, he made it sound delightful, even the stories of the harsh Highland winters. Though his family was every bit as fractured as hers, his mother dead by the time he was three and his father a drunken rabble-rouser, he only seemed to have fond memories.

“You make it sound so wonderful,” she said. The thought of being surrounded by loved ones on a peaceful, secluded farm seemed idyllic.

“Do I?” he asked. “It’s really verra dreadful. I didna mean to misrepresent it so.”

She tilted her head and studied him, his face completely innocent and perplexed. It took her a moment to realize he was teasing her and she swatted his hand with a giggle.

Quinn asked her about her childhood home and she tried to tell the truth as much as she could. For some strange reason she wanted to tell him more, like how she’d got her first starring role as Wendy at thirteen, the zit cream commercial she’d been so chuffed about at sixteen but now prayed never saw the light of day again, the countless auditions and classes, but it only made her melancholy for her old life and against the odds, she was actually enjoying herself with Quinn right now.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed right now. She’d become accustomed to regretfully looking back or desperately hoping for when she’d be able to get to her own time again. She hadn’t felt so relaxed in ages. Danger, a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered, but she ignored it.

“And how did a fine young lady like yourself, surrounded your whole life by the gentry, not get scooped up by some lord of something?” he asked, eyeing her boldly. “I beg you’re pardon if that’s too forward.” He didn’t look sorry at all, and she considered ignoring the question, but he seemed awfully sure he knew all about her and she wanted to set him straight.

“I’m not a fine young lady at all,” she said. “Working class all the way. My grandmother worked hard and gave up a lot to make sure I got the best education.”

He frowned then. “I wonder if we didna do well enough by Catie. She canna dance or play any instrument, and barely knows two words of French.”

“And are they swear words?” she asked, nudging him with the pawn she captured. He grinned, and for the first time, she didn’t almost get knocked out of her chair by it, but was glad she was the cause.

“Truly, your granny did well, lass. Ye’re verra accomplished,” he said.

“I wasn’t trying for a compliment.” Lizzie felt her cheeks burning. “And Catie seems to have had a lovely upbringing. Her manners are beyond reproach.”

He kept smiling at her, making her smile back like a loon. “All that from merely trying to find out if ye were attached in any way,” he said.

Her smile disappeared as she remembered herself. Or the way she was supposed to be. “Now, that is too forward, sir,” she said, softening the blow with a wave at the board. “Are you going to retaliate against my ruthless taking of your pawn?”

She managed to recover from his basically asking her if she was single and tried to keep from wondering why he cared. They played in near silence, though it wasn’t awkward. He seemed to know she needed a bit of space and she appreciated the quiet friendliness that settled over them. They could have been at her apartment in her own time, just having a nice evening in.

“Are you setting me up?” she asked after she beat him a second time. There was no way someone who was so bad at chess would ever have suggested the game in the first place. “You’re going to propose we wager on the next game and then mop the floor with me, aren’t you?” She leaned back in her chair and enjoyed the false look of outrage that took over his handsome features. She really did like looking at him.

He burst out laughing, unable to keep up his charade. “Ye’re verra savvy for someone who’s so poor at chess.”

“So, you did let me win! And I’m not so bad.”

“Aye,  and ye are. It was difficult to lose to ye. But I didna mean to make an unfair bet. I just wanted to see a smile on your lovely face.”

He grinned at her, the monster, and she didn’t know whether to feel insulted or complimented. Her damn cheeks felt hot just because he’d said she was lovely.

“And now flattery. Sir, you are a rogue, indeed.” Lizzie was flustered, not sure if he was teasing her.

His smile seemed open and guileless, but her pounding heart warned her to run. Everything seemed suddenly dangerous, their shared laughter, the stories of their childhoods, the fact that she was beginning to like him as if he were a real person and not some historical figure she might read about when she made it home.

She got up in a hurry, nearly knocking her chair backwards, and nodded curtly at him. “Good night, Mr. Ferguson.”

He blinked and his smile faltered, almost as if she’d hurt his feelings. Hell. She had to get out before she reached out to soothe his troubled brow. Her hand acted on its own accord and actually reached out for him. She turned and walked from the room at what she hoped was a steady pace, her traitorous hands held tightly at her sides. When she got in the hallway, she ran until she reached the safety of her room.

She flung away her shawl and loosened her garments, turning to look at her flushed face in the scuffed mirror.

Get it together, she warned herself to no avail. Dear God, his body was amazing and she burned to press against him. It had been more than a year since she’d had sex. How could she in this time, when her reputation would be ruined. She’d become a target for all sorts of lecherous fiends if she so much as made out with someone and the word spread. She had to keep her job, set a good example for her charges, or she’d be destitute.

And it hadn’t been all that bad after a while. She enjoyed reading, and learned how to play chess, though apparently she could use some practice. Many evenings the family she stayed with had musical entertainment to which she’d be invited, and there was never a lack of needlework to do. If she kept busy, she rarely thought about sex anymore.

Until now. Until bloody Quinn Ferguson. Now she couldn’t think about anything else. And with him being Catie’s guardian, he was completely off limits, not that he’d ever look twice at her in that way. Though he flirted outrageously, he seemed to hold her in the highest esteem, which was nice. It was nice to be held in any esteem. Most people barely saw her except when they needed her to do something.

It sucked being a spinster with no means. It was far, far better being an independent woman in her own time, even if she didn’t have a whole lot of money then, either. At least people respected and sometimes even admired her. She could smile at a man without word getting around that she was of loose moral character and should be disgustingly propositioned at every turn.

She tossed herself onto her bed, completely worked up. She had half a mind to march down to his room and brazenly slip through the doorway and into his bed. She’d bet all her savings he wouldn’t turn her away. And she’d bet any future earnings that it would be a mighty good time, too.