“Gypsy witch.” Quinn’s lips twisted into a big smile. “You guys believe in curses and gypsies, but not in psychics? How is that possible?”
“Aye.” Collin picked up his phone again as she continued to eat her fries. “One foretold your arrival.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Quinn tossed her fry onto the plate and asked with a smile.
Collin turned his phone around, making Quinn’s lips part. She might as well have been looking in a mirror, minus the silk dress. “You did this, right? Someone snapped a picture of me while at your castle and you’re a whiz at Photoshop or something?”
Collin’s brows pitched as he exchanged a glance with Ian.
“You know… Photoshop? The photo editing software.”
“I know of no such…software. This portrait is in the north tower and was painted by the gypsy who foretold your coming, and the return of the emerald.”
And people thought she was weird. “That’s great, guys, really.” She rose and started loading up her napkin with uneaten fries. No way was she leavingthem behind. “She must have been right. I came and returned your emerald. I hope your family paid her well. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve had a long day.
“What is this, national screw with the tourist day?” Quinn mumbled beneath her breath while grabbing her jacket and heading for the door.
“She said other things,” Collin called out, stopping her in her tracks. Quinn slowly turned around to face them. The last of her energy drained as a headache started to form behind her eyes. “Did she tell you how to get rid of Clarence?”
He shook his head and rose. “No, nothing about a Clarence.”
She lifted the greasy napkin holding her fries. “Right, well, have a nice life. I have to go check on my sick pilot to make sure we can leave in the morning. Cheerio.” Or whatever. What did one say when parting ways in Scotland? No matter. She had no plans to use the word again. Nor need.
She saluted the bartender as she left, hoping that the gesture didn’t mean anything derogatory. She’d made it outside when she felt Collin behind her.
“Your pilot is sick?” he asked as he walked beside her.
“Food poisoning or the flu. Not sure yet.” Why had she bothered to answer?Collin was like a stray dog. The more she encouraged him, the longer he’d stay.
“The town doc is a personal friend. Would you like me to call him and get your pilot looked at? Just to be safe.”
“Uh…” Quinn glanced up at Collin. The hard lines of his face had softened. “Sure. That would be great.” She’d checked in on Johnny to see if he could stomach anything to eat before going to the pub. He was huddled in blankets. With her luck, they’d be stranded in Scotland for an entire week. Would her father even send another plane in his fleet to pick them up? Probably not. “Why would you help us?”
“You returned the emerald, of course.”
“Of course.” Quinn smiled while trying to figure out his ulterior motive. Most men had one. He walked with her down the cobblestone street. The moonlight cast everything into shades of white and silver, leaving her pensive and on the lookout for Jack the Ripper. She should have packed her can of pepper spray or, at the very least, another pair of high heels. They turned the corner to the hotel and stopped in their tracks.
An ambulance and two police cars, with lights flashing, were parked in front of the hotel. The entrance was cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape draped from the one bush to the other, blockingthe door. A police officer stood guard at the entrance. It was obvious this was the most excitement this sleepy town had seen in a long time. Nosy residents stood on the other side of the street draped in bathrobes over their nightclothes, silently watching and whispering to each other.
For the love of God…her pilot better not be dead. Collin placed his palm on Quinn’s back and eased her toward the officer.
“Ted, what’s going on?” Collin asked the young Barney Fife standing guard. He had acne covering his face.
“There’s a guest with a potentially contagious disease. They believe he got some staff sick now too.”
His voice was high pitched. The kid they trusted with a gun hadn’t even hit puberty. Quinn’s entire body stiffened as she registered his words while trying to peer around the officer. “Who’s sick?” Her voice rose an octave as she tried to push closer to the door. “My pilot is in there. I have to go check on him.”
Collin took her hand and eased her back to his side. His attempt to stifle her might have worked if he’d placed her hand on his crotch. Entwining their fingers wasn’t enough to shut her up.
“Ted is it?” she asked. “Do you know who it is?”
“Aye, I think the maid who called it in said his name was Johnny Smith from the States. Is he your pilot?”
Quinn’s stomach lurched and fell into her toes. Her legs felt weak, and she lost her voice, so she nodded while silently wondering if the sign on her forehead now read,screw with this bitch.
“What doctor is in there?” Collin asked, taking over the conversation.
“Pat Tanner, and he has locked the place down under quarantine until he has a diagnosis. He mentioned it was probably either measles or chickenpox.”
