“I’ll grab my keys,” Angus said, gesturing over his shoulder.
“Nay, I’ll drive Quinn. You can supervise the staff as they start setting up the ballroom for this weekend. Make sure they donae try to sword fight like they did last year.”
“Ohhh, a party. Will you wear your skirt?” Quinn teased, following Collin out of the kitchen.
“Aye, I’ll be wearing my kilt. It’s an annual tradition to keep the peace between the Menzies and McDougalls. Where the singles mingle in search of finding true love in the other’s clan.”
“Seriously?” Quinn asked, following him out of the castle to the truck parked out front. “Do you parade the women like a herd of cattle, or do you chaps prefer wet T-shirt contests?”
“Nay.” Collin chuckled, opening the truck door. He stopped her before she got in. Using the pad of his thumb, he swiped at the corner of her mouth. “You’ve got something right there.”
Heat swirled in his eyes as his body pressed against hers, making her stomach flutter in delight and her breath hitch from his touch.
“I was saving that for later.” Quinn slipped past him and wiped at the corners of her mouth. He was good. She could see how any woman might fall under his spell. She shoved the thoughts aside and cleared her throat. Her objective didn’t include taking the man to bed but saving Collin and herself from whoever had tried to turn her into fish food. Although… there wasn’t a reason why she couldn’t do both.
Quinn waited until Collin pulled out of the castle driveway before blurting out, “Who has the most to gain if the curse plays out?”
Collin was quiet, as if mulling it over. “Ian,” he finally answered. “The last portrait depicts someone handing him the emerald.”
“Are you sure it’s him in the picture?”
“Aye. He has a matching birthmark on his wrist.”
“And who has the most to lose?” Quinn asked, trying to remember some of the words from the curse. Each time she tried, the word death kept flashing in her mind.
“I’m no’ sure. Neither the gypsy nor the curse gave names. We have only theportraits and the poem. It said that you’d bring a once noble man to ruin.”
“Let’s not forget the part of the poem that mentions fire and death to contend with,” she reminded him.
“Do you trust all of your staff and the people close to you?”
“Aye. I trust them all.” Collin’s words were strained as he pumped the brakes. The truck was picking up speed going down the hill. “The brakes are no’ working.”
Quinn’s whole body stiffened. At the bottom of the hill was a sharp curve, and if he didn’t make the turn, they’d both turn into ghosts. She wasn’t about to live an eternity in this foreign land.
She reached for the door latch as her heart raced faster with each passing second.
“You cannae jump.”
“Wanna bet? We both are, on the count of three. One, two…” She didn’t wait until three before shoving the door open. Her body tensed at the sight of the gravel road beneath the tires. The grass was about a foot away. “Three,” she yelled at the same time Collin’s door opened. She launched away from the road and landed in the hard packed grass and leaves and continued to roll before coming to a stop. She sat up, rubbing her head and trying to refocus her eyes. Her gaze landed on Collin on the other side of the road before their gazes flew to the truck and they both watched in horror as it disappeared over the cliff and out of sight. The sound of crunching metal and burst of shooting flames filled the quiet afternoon. Quinn lay back in the grass, afraid to move and taking inventory of all of her body parts. Her back ached, but that was nothing compared to the invisible sledgehammer pounding against her head. The jump could have been worse. The side of the road could have been covered in heather. Quinn’s vision blurred and her head started to sway. She closed her eyes to fight the fainting feeling and lost her battle as a dark void consumed her consciousness.
Chapter Nine
Collin’s entire body ached,but that didn’t compare to the relief he felt in his heart when he met Quinn’s gaze. They both watched in horror as his truck disappeared from sight. The relief in his body was short-lived when he noticed Quinn collapsing back to the ground. Was she hurt?
He ignored his bruises and pushed through his protesting muscles, getting up to stagger across the road. Quinn lay unmoving. Only the rise and fall of her chest calmed his racing heart. Collin ran his hands over her arms and legs. Scrapes and bruises covered some of her porcelain skin, but nothing appeared to be broken.
“Quinn, luv.” Collin rested his palm on her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze. “Did your curse happen to mention cut brakes?”
“No mention of cut brakes, just disease, death, fire, and ruin.”
“If we hadn’t gotten out, that one ride could have taken care of all of it.” Her gaze lifted to something behind him before she narrowed her eyes. “Clarence, if you weren’t already dead, I’d kill you again.”
“Clarence, the ghost from the States that you’re trying to get rid of?” Collin asked, glancing over his shoulder to find the field and road empty. “I think you hit your head a bit harder than I thought. There’s no one here but us.” He turned back and felt the back of her head for any sign that he was right.
“He’s standing right behind you,” Quinn said, brushing his hands from her body. She tried to shove Collin away, yet he remained unmoving, unsure if she was really unhurt or just annoyed.
