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“Wow! I’d like to see that,” Quinn breathed.
“It would be my pleasure take you up in the mountains, where they are seen the most often,” Gabriel said. “Can you ride a horse?”
“At a walk,” Quinn said.
Brendan stirred as though he wanted to say something but subsided. Gabriel wondered if Quinn’s father had been about to share a memory.
“A walk is the safest speed on the mountain trails anyway,” Gabriel said before opening a cabinet to take out three plates.
“What am I thinking?” Quinn leaped out of her chair. “I’ll set the table.”
He handed her the plates as she raced around the kitchen island. Activity would help distract her from the weight sitting on her shoulders.
As she banged open drawers to yank out placemats and napkins, he wondered what was upsetting her so deeply. It wasn’t fear of Dupont, no matter what her father had told them about the criminal. Quinn had meant it when she’d said she could handle herself, even if Gabriel felt she was overconfident.
Was it having her boss meet her father? Gabriel had the sense that the two men had understood each other well, despite the tension between them. And Mikel already knew about whatever trouble lived in Quinn’s past.
As Quinn returned to the kitchen for flatware, Gabriel reached for her wrist, planning to pull her into him to slow her frenetic pace. But she slid out of his grip and dodged around him to get to the drawer, her gaze fixed downward.
Pain lanced through Gabriel. Was his presence causing her distress?
“Quinn.” He moved in front of her before she could dash out of the kitchen area again. She lifted her head, and he reeled from the bleakness that dragged down the corners of her mouth. “What is it?” he murmured. “How can I help?”
She shook her head. “It’s too late.” She sidestepped around him.
He would have to wait to find out what that meant.
“This is a lovely place,” Brendan said to no one in particular. This time, he didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he launched into a colorful and entertaining account of his journey by boat to Caleva. He even managed to surprise a snort of laughter from Quinn when he admitted that he shouldn’t have eaten a large meal prior to boarding since the seas got quite rough.
That encouraged him to relate another story about his travels. Gabriel enjoyed the man, even though he didn’t believe half of what Brendan said. Quinn’s father was a master raconteur, exerting himself to win a response from his daughter, who seemed to be determined not to respond.
As Gabriel carried the steaming chicken and potatoes to the table, he stopped abruptly. Was he as blind to his own father’s attempts to communicate as Quinn was to hers? Quinn had said as much, but Gabriel had dismissed her comments as polite kindness.
“Gabriel? You can put the pans down here. There are trivets.”
Quinn’s voice snapped him back into motion. He slid the pans onto the table and lifted the lids. “Pollo con ajillo and patatas bravas, two Spanish classics, courtesy of Marta.”
Brendan rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “A pollo in the pot is better than a salmon in the sea.” He grinned. “And I can eat to my heart’s content since I have a soft bed on dry land waiting for me after dinner.”
“How do you know it’s not a bed of nails?” Quinn asked.
Brendan sighed. “Ah, Quinnie, can we call a truce for now? I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”
Quinn looked down at her folded napkin as a flush climbed her cheeks. “Fine. No nails in the bed.”
Brendan lifted his whiskey glass. “Bless us with good food, the gift of gab, and hearty laughter.”
“Buen provecho,” Gabriel said as he passed a filled plate to Quinn.
As the meal progressed, Brendan wove a ribbon of words that wrapped around Quinn and drew her into the conversation. Her monosyllables became full sentences, and by dessert, she even laughed at Brendan’s sallies. The man could probably charm a Calevan dragon out of its burrow.
Relief whispered through Gabriel as Quinn relaxed, helped by the wine he kept refilling her glass with. It was good to see her lips quirk into a sarcastic smile and her eyes spark with their usual keen intelligence.
When Quinn excused herself for a visit to the bathroom, Brendan leaned toward Gabriel and lowered his voice. “I appreciate your supporting Quinn tonight. You’re a good lad, and you obviously care about her.”
An unexpected gratification warmed Gabriel. However problematic Brendan was, he was still the father of the woman Gabriel loved. “She is an extraordinary person,” Gabriel said.
“Indeed, she is.” Pride swelled Brendan’s voice. He leaned even closer. “Could you find a way to give us a few minutes alone? There’s a private matter I need to address. I promise it won’t upset her.”
