out the door. She squeaked past him, skidding in the hallway in her hurry.
“Pietro told me ye’d be with the lad,” he said, looking straight past Lizzie to Bella. “Is he no better?”
“I fear he’s worse,” Bella said. “Please, can ye fetch Pietro for me. The physician will be up soon.”
“I’ll go with you,” Lizzie said, following Quinn to the door, with an apologetic glance at Bella. “I have to find Oliver.”
“The lovely English lad?” Bella asked. “I popped out for a trice earlier to grab a bite of breakfast and saw him in the dining hall.”
Quinn walked fast and she had to trot to keep up with his long legs. He looked down at her when she reached his side and smiled quickly before looking away again. So, it was going to be like that? Fine. She took a silent deep breath, and grabbed his arm.
“I think Callum might be really ill,” she said. “Something dangerous in this time.”
He stopped and gave her his full attention. “What?”
“Well, of course I’m not sure, but I think the doctor will confirm it’s scarlet fever.”
He paled, then shook his head. “Ye say dangerous in this time. It isna dangerous in yours?”
“Well, I suppose it can be if it’s left untreated,” she said with a shrug. “But not usually. Not really.”
He groaned, and rolled his shoulder. “We must pray ye’re wrong and he doesna have it,” he said, holding his elbow with his other hand.
“Oh, it’s very likely I’m wrong,” she assured him, hoping she was. “I only remember the symptoms from an old program on the telly.” He looked at her blankly and she waved it off, reaching to pull aside his shirt to check his bandage. “Has anyone looked at this yet for you?”
He took a step away from her, eyes widening. “No, but it’s fine. I checked it myself. Ah, in the mirror.”
“Don’t be daft, Quinn. Let me look at it.”
She rested her hand on his shirt, feeling the electric rush of desire just from touching fabric that touched his body. She was a mess. When she looked at his face, she saw his eyes were shuttered and cold.
“The bandage can wait. I must find Pietro, and ye should find Oliver. We’re going to try again today.”
“Quinn, that’s madness. You need to rest.”
She spoke to his back. He was already halfway down the hall and turning to go downstairs. Her determination faltered when a tiny voice inside her whispered that maybe he was truly done with her. Maybe last night had meant less than nothing to him, and there was nothing she could do to convince him she loved him, because he no longer loved her. If that was the case, there was no reason to wait any longer to try the spell again.
Stiffening her spine, she told her self-defeating voice to stuff itself.
“Miss Bur— I mean, Lizzie.” Oliver turned the corner from the stairwell. “I was looking for you, and Quinn said I might find you up here.”
“Hello, Oliver,” she said, patting some color back into her cheeks. “Are they treating you well?”
He shook off her question to dive right into the heart of their problem. “Quinn said we’re to try again today? Are they giving him quantities of whiskey as a painkiller?”
Lizzie laughed despite her self-pitying mood. “He’s not drunk, I’m afraid. We have to find a way to get him to rest at least another day. I’d say we just refuse to go, but I think he’d leave us behind.”
“He’d leave me behind, certainly. But I don’t think he’d go without you.”
She raised her eyebrow in blatant disbelief and when Oliver only smiled knowingly, she shook his arm and begged him to tell her why he thought that.
“Because he’s a gentleman, and he said he would help me get home, no doubt,” she said.
Oliver tucked her arm through his and led her toward the staircase, and she marveled at how he could be so adorable and yet so proper. He was like a cross between a kitten and a doting grandfather.
“That’s part of it surely, as Quinn does what
“Pietro told me ye’d be with the lad,” he said, looking straight past Lizzie to Bella. “Is he no better?”
“I fear he’s worse,” Bella said. “Please, can ye fetch Pietro for me. The physician will be up soon.”
“I’ll go with you,” Lizzie said, following Quinn to the door, with an apologetic glance at Bella. “I have to find Oliver.”
“The lovely English lad?” Bella asked. “I popped out for a trice earlier to grab a bite of breakfast and saw him in the dining hall.”
Quinn walked fast and she had to trot to keep up with his long legs. He looked down at her when she reached his side and smiled quickly before looking away again. So, it was going to be like that? Fine. She took a silent deep breath, and grabbed his arm.
“I think Callum might be really ill,” she said. “Something dangerous in this time.”
He stopped and gave her his full attention. “What?”
“Well, of course I’m not sure, but I think the doctor will confirm it’s scarlet fever.”
He paled, then shook his head. “Ye say dangerous in this time. It isna dangerous in yours?”
“Well, I suppose it can be if it’s left untreated,” she said with a shrug. “But not usually. Not really.”
He groaned, and rolled his shoulder. “We must pray ye’re wrong and he doesna have it,” he said, holding his elbow with his other hand.
“Oh, it’s very likely I’m wrong,” she assured him, hoping she was. “I only remember the symptoms from an old program on the telly.” He looked at her blankly and she waved it off, reaching to pull aside his shirt to check his bandage. “Has anyone looked at this yet for you?”
He took a step away from her, eyes widening. “No, but it’s fine. I checked it myself. Ah, in the mirror.”
“Don’t be daft, Quinn. Let me look at it.”
She rested her hand on his shirt, feeling the electric rush of desire just from touching fabric that touched his body. She was a mess. When she looked at his face, she saw his eyes were shuttered and cold.
“The bandage can wait. I must find Pietro, and ye should find Oliver. We’re going to try again today.”
“Quinn, that’s madness. You need to rest.”
She spoke to his back. He was already halfway down the hall and turning to go downstairs. Her determination faltered when a tiny voice inside her whispered that maybe he was truly done with her. Maybe last night had meant less than nothing to him, and there was nothing she could do to convince him she loved him, because he no longer loved her. If that was the case, there was no reason to wait any longer to try the spell again.
Stiffening her spine, she told her self-defeating voice to stuff itself.
“Miss Bur— I mean, Lizzie.” Oliver turned the corner from the stairwell. “I was looking for you, and Quinn said I might find you up here.”
“Hello, Oliver,” she said, patting some color back into her cheeks. “Are they treating you well?”
He shook off her question to dive right into the heart of their problem. “Quinn said we’re to try again today? Are they giving him quantities of whiskey as a painkiller?”
Lizzie laughed despite her self-pitying mood. “He’s not drunk, I’m afraid. We have to find a way to get him to rest at least another day. I’d say we just refuse to go, but I think he’d leave us behind.”
“He’d leave me behind, certainly. But I don’t think he’d go without you.”
She raised her eyebrow in blatant disbelief and when Oliver only smiled knowingly, she shook his arm and begged him to tell her why he thought that.
“Because he’s a gentleman, and he said he would help me get home, no doubt,” she said.
Oliver tucked her arm through his and led her toward the staircase, and she marveled at how he could be so adorable and yet so proper. He was like a cross between a kitten and a doting grandfather.
“That’s part of it surely, as Quinn does what
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