“You’re a feisty one.” Menzie chuckled. “But he deserved it.”
“And more. My momma always told me to act like a lady, unless some schmuck tried to treat me like a piece of meat.”
“Wise advice,” he said as they approached the car, where Angus was waiting with the door open. A smile split his lips, and his eyes twinkled in approval.
“I would say it’s been a pleasure, but it hasn’t. Good day, Laird Menzie. I hope you have a long life with your prize.”
“Who are you?”
She let out a resigned sigh. “Quinn Thatcher. You have your emerald, so my work here is done.” She patted the large muscles on his sweaty, bare, tanned chest. Yes, okay, she copped a feel. It was the least he could put up with to repay her for her hell of Mr. Grabby and the obnoxious ghost. “Have a nice life.”
“Wait.” He reached for her arm. She raised a brow in challenge, making him pause in midair before returning the currently uninjured hand to his side. She’d guessed wrong. This one did have brains. He smiled warmly down at her; his ruggedly handsome face made the butterflies in her stomach flutter to life. “Where did you find the emerald?”
“At the grave of Clarence McNolte in Florida.” Quinn slipped inside the car, and Angus shut the door before he could ask more questions she wouldn’t be able to answer. Menzie exchanging a few words with Angus before climbing in behind the wheel.
“I must say, lass. Only a strong woman would dare bring a McDougall to his knees.”
More like his ass, but she didn’t correct Angus. She met his aged eyes in the rearview mirror. “Low blood sugar makes me cranky, and his momma should have taught him better manners.”
“Where to?”
“The hotel so I can shower and change.” Before her foot turned green and fell off from some sexually transmitted disease, but she kept that comment to herself. When in Rome, it was probably better not to piss off all the natives. “Then I’m getting dinner and a beer at the pub. I won’t need the car again today.”
“Aye. Sounds like a fine plan.”
Fine was an understatement. Quinn leaned back into the seat; the worn leather creaked in protest. Resting her hand over the flutters in her stomach, she pondered whether she’d done the right thing by taking this trip.
Chapter Three
Collin Menzie stareddown the driveway and watched Angus drive the redhead away. The legend had been true. Criminy. He was sure that the legend had been a lie, perpetrated by whoever had stolen the stone. The cool breeze that he’d enjoyed earlier caressed his skin but didn’t stop the blood from boiling in his veins. Why had he been the one to be saddled with the legend and not an ancestor before?
“Looks like the emerald has returned, and under my watch.” McDougall chuckled as he slapped Collin’s back. “If the story stands true, the jewel shall finally find its final resting place among my colorsandon her finger.”
With friends like Ian McDougall, a man didn’t need enemies. The old wives’ tale foretold that a member of the Menzie clan would wed with a part of the stone before handing it back to a McDougall. Not likely since it had been a peace offering from the McDougall clan to the Menzies, not to mention the thought of putting a ring on the American’s finger. His fate was his own, no matter what the gypsy had proclaimed.
“Care to consult the paintings to get a fresh perspective of what to expect.”
The infamous paintings depicted a tale of what to expect in the coming days. The so called Savior was among them who’d be changing Collin’s life forever.
“Aye.” Collin spun to find the entire staff waiting. Each held a worried look in their eyes and rightly so. The legend coming to life, and the omen that followed wasn’t something any smart man would ignore. Disease, death, fire, and ruin were eminent if the old tales were to be believed.
“If I were you, I’d have Ramsey hide your gold and monitor the accounts.”
It had been years since Collin had studied the text and the paintings. He’d laughed it off as a cocky young lad, convinced no imaginary redhead from the curse would ever get the best of him. Had he been wrong all these years?
“Shows over.” Collin clapped his hands, dispersing the crowd to lead Ian inside the castle. The thud of the heavy doors reverberated through the hall as the doors shut behind them. Ian and Collin had been raised by their fathers to hate each other, but the opposite had happened when Ian returned Collin’s favorite horse, which had taken off from the first of many fires. He’d since been one of the few souls that Collin trusted, along with Ramsey, Collin’s accountant.
Collin had no more than cleared the door when Margarete came rushing forward. Her enthusiasm about furniture and décor wasn’t the only thing she wanted within these walls. Many a night Collin had brushed off her advances, but it appeared as though she had some crazy inner radar to know when he was home. “Collin. We must talk about the tapestries.”
Margarete was a beautiful woman in her own right. She was educated and held a regal air of title in the way she presented herself. She was slender with blonde hair and a stick-straight figure. Many a man would have been proud if she showed them attention. Collin wasn’t one of them. Her beauty did little to hide her pretentious attitude toward the staff. He’d hired her due to her eye for detail in interior decorating. He hadn’t beenexpecting her to turn her eyes to him. He should have known.
“No, wench, we have much more pressing matters to discuss,” Ian complained.
“What your brother meant to say was, can it wait?” Collin asked, trying hard to soften Ian’s words.
“Sure.” Her cheeks flushed pink, and she pasted a hardened smile on her face and lifted her chin. Whenever Ian visited, he managed to piss off everyone in his path, whether he intended to or not. He’d turned his brash attitude into a game of sport to flirt with the women he encountered. He had a way with words and with women. More than one of the maids had been found in a closet with her skirt up to her chest. Ian was truly gifted in the art of seduction.
Having Margarete beneath Collin’s roof seemed to only make things worse. It was as though her presence alone managed to set the staff’s nerves on edge with her constant demands, as if she were the lady of the castle. Hiring her had been a favor; keeping her content had been the challenge. She was here to do a job, one that Collin had no desire to perform, and Ian’s rudeness always seemed to aggravate her more. Restoring and redecorating the part of the castle that had succumbed tofire wasn’t Collin’s idea of a good time. Ever.
