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"Buffalo wings are the thighs of a chicken that are deep fried and smeared with a spicy sauce. They're delicious. And bungee jumping is jumping from a tall structure while being attached, at the ankle, to an elastic cord, sort of like a ribbon but one that stretches when pulled, " Quinn quickly explained.
Archer and Thaddeus's faces went completely white and when Archer managed to find his voice, it was laced with fury, "You didwhat?"
Quinn held his stare and repeated herself. "I jumped from a bridge, 200 meters from the ground above a river, and the only thing keeping me from splattering like a watermelon was an elastic cord wrapped at my ankle." Quinn continued to hold Archer's furious glare as she lifted her hand to hold up four fingers, which she wiggled at him. "I did it four times," she teased mercilessly.
His voice was like gun blast. "You should be locked in your room."
"So I guess telling you I went sky diving is probably not a good idea?"
"What is that?" Thaddeus demanded.
Quinn was starting to enjoy herself. "In the future there are large tubular machines with wings called airplanes that fly through the air and can reach as high as 10,000 meters. Sky diving is jumping from one of these airplanes with a large mushroom cap shaped apparatus called a parachute strapped to your back. Then you free-fall before releasing the parachute that catches the air and allows you to float to the ground below."
Archer was positively apoplectic now as he turned, without a word, and walked from the room. Quinn hurried to catch up to him but when she reached out and touched his arm, his head snapped fiercely in her direction and all she could see was fury and fear burning in his emerald gaze.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her down the hall into the library before closing and locking the door. He pushed her up against the door, pinning her with his body, as his mouth came down hard on hers. His hands pulled through her hair spilling pins to the floor as the mass of curls tumbled down around her shoulders. He fisted the silky strands and pulled her even closer to him all the while his mouth stayed fused to hers. When he did pull his mouth away, it was only so he could trail kisses down her neck and over her collarbone and then his head lifted and whispered, "You could have been killed."
He wrapped her face in his hands. "I love you, Quinn."
She threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly to her. "I love you, Archer."
She pulled back and his thumb gently wiped the tears from her face. He marveled that this stunning, wild, carefree woman was his and he couldn't imagine loving anyone more. A wicked grin curved his lips when he realized what he had done to her hair.
"I've ruined your hair but I'm not sorry. I like your hair down, all those curls free and wild." He twirled a silky curl around his finger as he studied her face and then he whispered, "I don't deserve you, but I do love you."
"Stop talking nonsense and kiss me."
He was more than happy to oblige her.
Just after lunch, Douglas Grant arrived at the townhouse and was escorted to the library where Archer, Quinn and Thaddeus were waiting. As soon as he entered, Quinn knew when she fashioned herself as a man, which she had every intention of doing with or without the consent of the men, she wanted to capture the rumpled, unremarkable look of Douglas. She wasn't being cruel and suspected the man dressed as he did for that very reason. And it worked she bet; he would draw no notice whatsoever -- and neither would she.
"Hello, Mr. Grant. Thank you for coming to the house. Can I get you something to drink?" Archer graciously offered.
"Scotch, if you have it."
"Absolutely." Archer dismissed Finley and served the scotch himself before settling across from the detective.
"Miss Shaughnessy, Lord Cornwell," Grant nodded at Quinn and Thaddeus.
"Hello, Mr. Grant. How are you?" Quinn asked. Surprise flickered across his face at the sincerity in her tone as it was unusual for the peerage class to give a damn about the working class. His smile was genuine before he replied, "I'm well, thank you, but I'm afraid I have some unsettling news."
Archer leaned up so his elbows rested against his knees. "Go on."
"I have exhausted every contact at my disposal, have scoured the countryside, and I have found nothing regarding the woman believed to be your wife, Lady Connie Scarcliff."
Thaddeus stood to refill his scotch. "Her family must have moved away after the accident."
Mr. Grant shifted uncomfortably. "No, I'm sorry I am not being clear. It isn't that I am unable to find anything, what I'm trying to say is that there is nothing to find." He was looking directly at Archer before he added, "Connie Scarcliff doesn't exist."
"Oh crap." Quinn muttered as she watched Archer stand up so fast he almost knocked his chair backwards. "Goddamn it, I knew it."
"Then who the bloody hell was the woman walking around Arch's estate like she owned the place? Whose body was it they supposedly pulled from the river?" Thaddeus demanded.
"What do you remember about her death, Lord Scarcliff?" Mr. Grant asked.
Archer turned from his spot near the fireplace. "I wasn't home when it happened. I was off with my steward checking on my other properties. When I came home a sennight later, I was told of the accident and that arrangements had already been handled. Honestly, the woman who walked my halls treated my son like a street urchin and was cold and aloof to me. Part of the reason I was scouting out my other properties was to move her to one far removed from me and mine. I never visited her grave, didn't mourn her, in truth, after she died I never gave her another moment's thought. It sounds very hard but you needed to know the woman."
"Arch is right. She was positively wicked."
