He led the way up the north tower where Gwinnie’s ghost was reportedly lingering. He didn’t believe in such nonsense. Her ghost had never appeared to him, and he was related by blood. She’d been a new daughter-in-law in the household all those years ago when the emerald had vanished. It was her mother-in-law, Lady Menzie, who had commissioned the gypsy to paint, based off what the crazy gypsy woman saw in her visions.Not so crazy now, Collin thought.
Using his shoulder, he shimmied open the jammed door to one of the few rooms in the castle that the staff avoided at all cost. The solid wood flew open, slamming into the wall as if an unseen restraint had been removed. Dust floated in the sunshine coming through the windows that surrounded the empty room. The paintings had hung in the ballroom as a constant reminder of things to come, until Margarete had started redecorating. She’d stored them in the tower where they were leaning against the wall and covered in old sheets. Ian and Collin removed all of the coverings before standing in complete silence, staring at the painting of a woman who looked like Quinn Thatcher. Theresemblance was uncanny, down to the freckles he’d noticed on her neck.
Collin rubbed the stubble on his chin, trying to remember the story that accompanied the paintings. He shouldn’t have bothered. Ian knew the first few lines word for word.
“A woman with hair of fire, and eyes the color of the stolen stone, will descend from the sky.”
Collin’s lips twisted into a nervous smile. Her eyes were the first thing he’d noticed before his gaze lowered to the generous curves of her body and breasts. The mysterious woman was a beauty.
“Her word will carry a bite and sting worse than the fiercest beast.”
“Nailed that one,” Collin grumbled, much to his dismay. She wasn’t timid by any stretch of the imagination, if her actions portrayed her personality. She’d sauntered into the middle of a fight, commanded attention and had managed to bring Ian to his knees. Stronger men had tried and failed.
“Making the lines of past and present blur,” Ian continued.
“What do you suppose that means?”
Ian shrugged.
“What was the rest?”
“Disease will spread; death will follow; walls will crumble, and men will fall.”
“She’s already conquered taking down a man. I suggest you try not to manhandle her, like your other women, until we know what’s going on.” Collin ignored the need to lay a protective hand over his own balls, remembering Quinn’s determination. Pissing her off should be avoided at all cost.
“Friend or foe, it is she who controls the Menzie destiny, and will bring down the deceit of once noble men, making them fall from grace into hell,” Ian said, repeating the last verse of the tale.
Collin ran his hand through his hair, ignoring the other paintings, and moved to the window to look out over the vast land. On most days, the view of heather-covered braes bathed in sunlight and the distant view of the ocean managed to bring peace to his soul. Today wasn’t one of those days. An unease he couldn’t explain settled into his bones. A warning of things yet to pass.
“Friend or foe, she controls your destiny. What are you going to do?” Ian asked as Collin rubbed at the stubble on his chin. That was the million-dollar question. What was he going to do? He could ignore her, and hope she went away, or press for answers in an attempt to resolve the legend once and for all.
“I guess I donae have a choice,” Collin answered, spinning around. “I’ll go find her and see what else she might know.”
“Are you sure the lass is still here?”
“Aye. Angus told me she’s staying until the morn.”
“Well, she’s got to eat, and we both know they donae serve food at the hotel. It should be easy enough for us to track her down.”
“Go get cleaned up, and I’ll meet you at the pub in an hour.”
A plan formed in Collin’s head, one that had Quinn Thatcher singing like a canary. Not many women could withstand his charm, but he had a feeling she might be the first. Leading the way out of the old room, Collin walked Ian out of the castle, not giving him any time to pick his next conquest. Stopping in the study, Collin grabbed his cell phone before returning to the north tower. He snapped a picture of the painting to compare face to face. The lass would need proof if she were to believe a word he said.
Chapter Four
After being dropped off,Quinn hit a small boutique filled with flannel and boots. Thirty minutes later, she walked out wearing a red plaid lumberjack-looking shirt and even thicker jacket. The added layers hid her soft curves but kept her warm. She sighed at the lengths she was willing to go to help Clarence resolve his issues.
The warmer clothes and shower did wonders for her mood as she sat patiently inside the pub next door waiting on her order of fish and chips to arrive. She sipped a pint of light colored beer. The bitter ale coated her tongue and slid down her throat with ease. The request for a Miller Lite had gone ignored. Pizza and burgers were not on the menu, sealingQuinn’s resolve to cross this vacation spot off her list. A noxious smell came from the kitchen that made her stomach roll, and she wondered if it was haggis, the main dish that Scotland was so famous for pushing on unsuspecting tourist. A prior internet search had saved her from her upchuck reflux.
A group of old timers surrounded a table, engaged in lively debate. A few patrons sat farther down the bar, and the atmosphere was friendly and ghost-free. She hadn’t known what to expect when she walked into the pub, but an impending unease left her gut churning. It could have easily been from her empty-stomach alcohol buzz.
Scotland was rumored to be overflowing with ancient ghosts. Either they were playing a good game of hide and seek, or they just disliked haunting the tourists. Quinn closed her eyes, thankful for the brief reprieve. The angry glare from the female ghost in the castle tower remained tattooed behind her lids, forever branded into Quinn’s mind like the look on her baby sister’s face when she caught Quinn trying to feed her goldfish to her pet parakeet.
A man slid onto the bar stool to Quinn’s right and another one on her left. The two big bodies squished her arms into her sides. She dropped her head and gavean aggravating shake. Of all the stools, in all the pubs, these two just ended up next to her.
“A simple thank you would have sufficed.”
Karma was a funny bitch, and it appeared Quinn had a target stamped on her forehead in flashing neon green that read…Bring...It…On.
