Free Smitten by the Spinster by Cassidy Cayman Page A

who’d stolen her sister, ruined her good name, and eventually caused her early leave of this world. Lizzie had to admit, the tearful story had colored her opinion of the Fergusons, though the younger generation at least weren’t at all how they’d been described.
    When she got settled across from Quinn, not sure if looking at him was more distracting than the risk of brushing up against him, and Catie was busy goggling at the sights, she asked why Catie had never visited her English relatives before now.
    He took his time in answering, so she thought she might have offended him, but the rueful smile he gave her told her he wasn’t quite sure how to answer.
    “In truth, up until recently, it wasn’t my decision to make,” he said. “And I’m ashamed to admit I never gave it much thought.” He smiled at Catie, who seemed to know she was being discussed and turned to make a face at him before poking her head back out the window. “Now that I’m forced to, I must say I think my brother was wrong in keeping her from her aunt and uncle. Lady Amberly seems nothing but kind and to be sure, Catie’s uncle will be the same when we meet him.”
    Lizzie frowned. “No, he’s horrid, actually.”
    Quinn shouted with laughter and she went cold, wondering what about him made her drop her guard enough to speak ill of her employer. For all she knew he would run back to them and tell what she’d said. She vowed to be more reticent, and shook her head as if it was just a jest. Something told her she could trust Quinn, but he threw her off so badly, she wasn’t quite sure she could trust herself at the moment.
    Normally, she could withstand deep blue eyes in a handsome smiling face, all attached to a big, rugged man dressed smartly in close fitting breeches and a crisp jacket. During her years in the acting business, she’d been surrounded by good looking men and had learned not to be affected by them, but there was something about Quinn. He had a magnetism that went deeper than his looks.
    “You haven’t worn your plaid the entire time you’ve been here,” she blurted, thinking that seeing him swathed in a tartan tablecloth would be far less distracting than the muscle hugging clothes he’d been provoking her with the last couple of days.
    They arrived at the park and he helped them out of the carriage, his hands leaving a heated impression on her waist as he lifted her down. She hurriedly checked to make sure no one saw, as she could easily exit a carriage without help, or at the very least only needed a hand to keep her balance. She didn’t know what had possessed her to hang onto the carriage opening like a helpless damsel until he’d just scooped her up and set her on the ground. Catie turned around and blinked impatiently at her while she got her bearings. Lizzie waved her on ahead, and she gamboled up the path like a colt.
    Quinn held out his arm and with only the slightest hesitation, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. It was as nice an early autumn morning as London ever had, the sun struggling to come out from behind a bank of low hanging clouds, the dew sparkling on the grass, and the smell of the river wafting in on the occasional breeze. Leaning against his strong arm as they made their way along the winding path, she felt curiously close to content.
    “Ye asked me about my plaid?” he asked as they endeavored to keep up with Catie.
    “I imagined you’d be in full regalia down here,” she said.
    He nodded at his sister. “I didna want to offend or make her stand out. I dinna mind these bloody clothes too much, but God, I’d like to wear my kilt.”
    Lizzie laughed, he sounded so earnest. She hated the clothes too, though she couldn’t explain to him why. She wondered what he’d think of her in her workout gear.
    “You should wear what makes you comfortable,” she said, glancing over at him.
    He was pretty spectacular in day wear. When they started going to parties, she might expire