Part 8 (1/2)
Quinn stood in the dining hall entry, no less diminished for clutching his bad arm. His brow was furrowed with either pain or irritation or both, and he glowered at them. They quickly tilted away from each other, Oliver looking especially nervous to be found so close to her. She rolled her eyes at him, then jumped up to help Quinn to the table to join their conversation.
He sidestepped her and sat next to Oliver. Oliver offered him an apple that he hadn't eaten and with a shrug, Quinn bit into it. Lizzie couldn't take her eyes off his mouth as he crunched through the peel. When he licked away a bit of juice that tried to run down his lip, she had to tug at her bodice to appease the tight feeling in her chest.
”Are ye prepared to leave?” he asked, glaring at them both some more.
”Perhaps we should wait one more day,” Oliver suggested nervously. ”You had a rather bad time of it.”
”Rather bad time of it?” Lizzie said. ”You were shot at close range. You lost buckets of blood. The physician had to dig the bullet out of your bone! How are you even sitting upright?”
Oliver paled at her recap of the grisly event and glanced over at Quinn with wonder in his eyes. Quinn's face grew even stormier and he tossed the apple core onto the table and stood up, swaying slightly and swearing quietly under his breath.
”As ye can see, I'm fine. It obviously wasna as bad as it may have seemed. We must go at once.” He gripped his arm close to his middle and Lizzie could see he clenched his teeth against the pain.
Her eyes dropped to the bandage at his shoulder and she gasped at the circle of blood that grew larger by the second. She jumped to her feet and raced around the table, not letting him dodge her this time.
”Quinn, you aren't fine,” she wailed. ”You're bleeding again.”
He scowled and swore some more, then his face crumpled into that of a lost little boy. ”There isna time,” he said. ”Catie might be all alone.”
Lizzie's heart ached at his concern for his sister. Oliver got under his good arm to help keep him on his feet and they made their way back to his chamber.
”Your sister is clever and capable, and it's unlikely that she's alone.” Lizzie tried to help ease his fears. ”She probably found your brother by now, don't you think?”
He shook his head, too weak to say anything. Oliver struggled to keep him upright and Lizzie noticed with horror how much blood was seeping through his bandage and s.h.i.+rt. She ran down the hall and found a couple of men who looked strong enough to help and pointed urgently at Quinn, who was now going down like a felled tree.
He hit the stone floor with a crumpling thud, out cold, before the men could reach him. Oliver stood by shaking and apologetic about letting him fall, before she yelled for him to find the doctor. As soon as she a.s.sured herself that Quinn was alive, she sank into a cross legged position next to him.
”b.l.o.o.d.y idiot,” she said, blinking back frightened tears. ”Stupid fool.”
His hand found hers and he squeezed, a hint of a smile turning up one corner of his mouth. She wanted to hit him, but only leaned over and quickly pressed her forehead to his, mindful that they were surrounded by others.
”Verra well,” he said, almost too low to hear. ”I'll rest a bit longer.”
His grip on her hand loosened and the physician pushed her out of the way, muttering about it always being one thing or another and confirming her a.s.sessment that Quinn was an idiot.
Lizzie sat in the hard chair, and blinked to stay awake. She could barely feel her legs anymore and longed to get in the bed with Quinn. He was sound asleep, breathing deeply and evenly, his shoulder freshly washed, st.i.tched and bandaged. The doctor had quite the temper and said if Quinn continued putting his life at risk, he would sooner shoot him again himself than sew him up one more time. He was harried about Bella's son being so ill, and worried under his breath while he worked, muttering about a quarantine, and all of them possibly being doomed.
”A ray of suns.h.i.+ne, that one,” Oliver said.
Once he was sure Quinn would live to see another day, he left the new chamber Quinn had been a.s.signed, no one wanting to drag him up two flights of stairs to his previous one. Lizzie refused to leave, certain as soon as she did, Quinn would wake up and try traipsing into the forest on his own. She managed to get into a position she didn't think would cause her spine permanent damage and nodded off for a while, waking up with a start when Quinn groaned and rolled over.
It was early morning. The light of dawn barely lit the room through the small, high window. Quinn opened his eyes, focused on her and looked around the room, seeming alarmed.
”Afraid to be alone with me?” she asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She swatted his hand away and checked his bandage, then felt his forehead for fever.
”A bit, aye,” he admitted wryly.
She smiled at him, she couldn't help it. He made her smile even while being grumpy and prudishly pulling the sheet over his bare chest.
”I'm not going to ravage you,” she said, adding childishly, ”You wish.”
He edged himself to a sitting position and she hurried to help get a pillow behind his back. He took her hand, then dropped it, then took it again, shaking his head.
”Ah, Lizzie. That's the thing. I do wish. Ye're dangerous to me.”
She sat down next to him and when he didn't shove her off the bed, she rested her free hand on his stomach, searching his eyes for why he would say such a thing. He looked at her for a moment before sighing and closing his eyes.
She waited, one hand on his stomach, the other still in his grasp, her heart speeding up with actual fear. He wasn't going to give up on them, was he? He had to at least let her fight. Feeling sick with trepidation, she leaned over and pressed her lips lightly against his, wanting to kiss him, but even more wanting him to kiss her.
It was barely a heartbeat, but felt like an eternity before he reached up and slid his hand behind her neck and into her hair. His mouth met hers, his tongue gently touching her bottom lip so that she melted against him with a happy sigh. She slid her hand up to his chest, but then changed her mind and slid it back down, wanting what was beneath the sheet. He reached behind her to begin pulling at her laces.
”It's borrowed,” she said, pulling aside the covers. ”You can't rip this one.”
”Maybe just keep it on, then” he told her, pulling at her leg. She swung it over his hips and straddled him, trying to lift her skirts while still kissing him.
A sharp knock sounded on the door and it immediately swung open. Bella's husband Pietro stood in the doorway, eyes flying wide with mortified shock.
”I'm verra sorry,” he said, and began to back out.
Lizzie squeaked and jumped off the bed, hauling the covers back up over Quinn. She straightened her hair and gown and fanned her burning face.
”No, please, it's fine,” she said, noticing Pietro's red-rimmed eyes and overall haggard appearance. Her stomach plummeted. ”Is it the baby?” she asked, fearing the worst.
”Callum lives,” he said, leaning against the foot post of the bed. ”But he's no better.” Pietro turned to her, completely uncaring whatever state she'd been in a minute before. His only concern was clearly for his child. ”Ye know we dinna have the proper medicine for something like this.” She nodded, taking his arm and helping him to the uncomfortable chair she'd sat in all night. ”I'd go myself, but I canna risk being unable to return. I canna leave Bella and the children.” His voice broke and he put his face in his hands.
”Pietro, what is it? What can we do for ye?” Quinn asked, struggling to get out of bed. Lizzie pressed her hand into his chest to keep him down. Pietro only shook his head back and forth, a broken sob escaping his lips. Quinn looked at her as if remembering something. ”Earlier, yesterday was it? Ye said the scarlet fever wasna dangerous anymore in your time.”
She nodded. ”Better medicine.” She realized what Pietro was trying to ask. ”Pietro, we can bring it back. You don't have to risk going yourself. We'll bring back heaps of antibiotics and vitamins, whatever we can.”
Pietro looked up with such grat.i.tude, that if she'd had any qualms about her rash offer, they disappeared. These people were Quinn's friends, they would be her friends one day. And she could never let a child suffer.
”Ye dinna think we'd be tampering with history?” Pietro asked.
”b.u.g.g.e.r history,” Lizzie said.
Pietro gaped at her, but Quinn once again tried to get out of bed. ”Ye heard the la.s.s. There's no time like the present when one is b.u.g.g.e.ring history.”
Once again, Lizzie clapped her hand on his chest to keep him down, then used both hands and all her strength, but he still rose up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He groaned and clutched his arm.
”You were unconscious at the time, but the physician said if you endangered yourself with stupidity, he'd shoot you again before he patched you back up. So lay the h.e.l.l down.”
Pietro stood up. ”Ye canna know how grateful I am for this,” he said, patting at his sporran before reaching inside. His drawn face flushed with embarra.s.sment for a moment. ”I did suspect ye would offer,” he said, nodding first to Quinn and then turning to Lizzie. He had some small round objects in his hand. ”If ye would give these to Piper, she'll pa.s.s them along to my parents.”
Lizzie looked down at the miniature painted portraits. ”Piper?” she asked.
”Aye, she owns the property in the future- your present day. I used to work for her as stable master, and she knows my family I left behind.” He pointed to the largest miniature. It featured a strawberry blond boy of about six who had a determined look and intense eyes. ”This here is Reid. He's as stubborn as Bella. In fact, he alarms even her sometimes with his opinions.”
Lizzie took the portrait and carefully memorized everything he told her. The next picture was of a toddler, with fat rosy cheeks and vibrant green eyes. Where the oldest boy was a combination of Bella and Pietro in looks, this lad was the spitting image of Pietro.