“All of the rooms in the castle have been renovated. What’s the problem with this room?”
She pointed an accusing finger at the room. “I’m highly allergic to the flowers, and that room is covered in them.”
She grasped her throat as if it was difficult to breathe, so Collin quickly shut the door. “I’m sorry. I dinnae know.”
The hand at her throat moved to cover her heart. “Do you have any other spare rooms that aren’t overflowing with those killers?”
Collin stifled his smile. That was the first time anyone had ever referred to beautiful flowers as killers.
“Aye, there is only one room in the castle without the killers.”
“Good, I’ll take it.”
Collin pushed open his bedroom door and gestured for her to enter.
She walked inside. Her eyes scanned the entire room before walking over to the bed and picking up Collin’s kilt, which he’d discarded earlier. “Is this your way of trying to get me into your bed?”
Collin locked eyes with hers and slid the kilt from her fingers, slightly grazing her knuckles with his touch. Her emerald eyes lightened to the shade of grass covered with morning dew. Her red, plump lips lifted in a smile. He was finding Quinn was unabashed. Where most women would have blushed from the touch or his proximity, Quinn looked as though she reveled in the playfulness.
Clearing his throat, Collin grabbed the shirt he’d worn earlier from the bed and stepped back out of her personal space. “Nay, when you sleep with me, it willnae be because there was no other place for you to rest your head. I’ll sleep with thekillers until I can have them all removed in the morning.”
“When and if I take you to bed, I can guarantee sleep won’t be on the agenda.” She winked, gave him a full grin, and pressed her heated palm against his chest, pushing him backward toward the door. “Good night, Laird Menzie.”
“Collin,” he corrected.
“Good night, Collin.” She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her soft lips to his cheek before flicking the door closed in his face. His heartbeat quickened, and his pants grew tight, while he wondered what those lips would feel like elsewhere on his body.
Collin stood in the hallway, momentarily stunned, when the door suddenly flew open. Quinn cupped his cheeks and pressed her lips to his in a full-out assault. He’d barely had time to drop the items he’d been holding to free his hands when she broke the kiss and stepped back.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Maybe next time you can play dress up and wear the skirt.” She grinned again and shut the door.
“Only if I get to pick out your dress, wench,” Collin called out and grabbed the clothes off the floor. Her laughter rang out as he tossed the clothes onto the bed in the middle of the killing fields. He wasplaying with fire. The thought made him pause. Fire was in the curse. Could it have been referring to the sparks of chemistry that they shared, or were heated flames really a possibility?
Collin jogged down the stairs and into his office to find Ramsey waiting inside with a file in his hands.
“I wasnae expecting you,” Collin said, heading to the crystal decanter across the room. He poured himself a double shot of whiskey and threw back the shot, welcoming the fire in his throat.
“How long have I been your financial advisor?”
“Five years, but we both know you’re more than my advisor. If it wasnae for you, I’d still be dealing with the castle reconstruction from the fire and having to contend with the architects and insurance people.” Collin answered without hesitation. He’d trusted Ramsey with his entire portfolio after a stock market tip that had quadrupled the worth. Not to mention the headache he saved from having to figure out the castle blueprints.
“I’m surprised you dinnae call me,” Ramsey said and sat in one of the chairs opposite Collin’s desk. “I hear your family emerald was returned by a redheaded American who resembles the lady in the portrait.”
“You heard correctly. I put the emerald in the safe, and Quinn will be staying here until her sick pilot has recovered.”
Ramsey gave a slow nod and tossed the file in his hands onto the desk. “Yes, I heard her name was Quinn Thatcher. Did she tell you she’s a medium?”
“She told the whole bar.” Collin chuckled, remembering the way she unceremoniously announced her profession as if she’d be viewed as a leper. If she’d thought her words would make them leave, she’d been wrong. Collin was nothing if not more intrigued. He picked up the file. “What’s this?”
“I did a background check on your guest. It isnae every day that a mysterious woman shows up at your door to return something so valuable. Have you figured out her angle?”
“She disnae have one. She’s stuck here by circumstance.” Collin’s smile fell as he flipped the folder open and read the report inside.
Quinn Thatcher, single, age 35. Ms. Thatcher is a co-owner of Linked Inc., a multimillion-dollar company well known as a psychic hotline and detective agency in the States. It went on to state that she worked with numerous law enforcement agencies to help find missing people and solve homicides.
“This proves she disnae have any ulterior motive. She hasnae asked for a reward or money, and she’d actually planned to leave in the morning, until her pilot got sick.”
Collin closed the file.
