by L. L. Muir
She took two steps through the pine needles when she was stopped by James’ bellow—the alarm she’d been dreading to hear for months.
“Gun!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A dozen thoughts flew through Jules’ mind while she ran and lunged for Quinn.
Would she hurt him when they collided? Could she protect his head? Had the Gordon’s been watching and decided to perform their own execution? Or had a hitman been following her after all? It wasn’t impossible to think a Skedros might have tagged along, might have jumped into the parade line through the car park and into the tomb. It didn’t matter that it was fourteen hundred something and guns might not have been invented yet—James was there, and James had one. Therefore, it was possible someone else did too.
Jules had spent far too many months in close quarters with FBI agents not to react as she did. With all the false alarms and dry runs, she was programmed to hit the ground when anyone yelled gun. But Quinn was another story. Maybe his twenty-first century senses had dulled over the past year. Of course he still knew what a gun was, but he might not react so quickly. Not to mention he’d been sitting on that ancient log with a hand in the air like he was just asking to be someone’s target.
Just as Quinn reached for Jules-The-Flying-Squirrel, something pinched her in the waist. Hard. The impact of her body slamming into Quinn’s hardly registered at all. But when she landed on top of him on the far side of the log, she felt it.
Below her, Quinn gasped for air. The wind must have been knocked out of his lungs, so she needed to get off him so he could breathe, but she couldn’t seem to move.
“Let me up,” she panted. “You can’t breathe.”
He shook his head and held her close. “Dinna move, love. We’re pinned. An arrow, I’m certain.”
She put her chin down but couldn’t see anything. If the arrow went into her waist, then into him, it could have hit just about anything depending on the angle.
“Dinna panic, lass,” he whispered. “And be still. He’s still out there, aye?”
“Enos!” Ewan bellowed the name over and over. “The threat has passed, Enos. Stand ye doon!”
“Ewan?” A different man’s voice then. “How the hell was I to recognize ye with all that paint?”
“How do ye think, ye big bastard?” Ewan’s voice again. “Ever seen the Ross tartan afore?”
Jules and Quinn only looked at each other while they listened to a short fist fight. Only when it ended with a satisfying thunk, did she dare speak.
“Enough!”
“Sounds like Monty,” Quinn said.
“Sounds like you,” she whispered, then gave him a peck on the lips when it looked like her comment hadn’t pleased him. “You’re going to be fine,” she added, ignoring how bossy she sounded.
He was even more handsome than he’d been in dungeons or dreams. She could have stared at him all day, but he would need stitching again. She supposed she would too. And without anything to numb her!
Her head fit nicely against his collarbone. At least the arrow hadn’t gone through either of their hearts because they were both beating hard up against each other.
“Is anyone hurt?” James this time.
“Will ye stay with me, lass?” Quinn’s question brought back all the dreams and all the emotions in them. It was a little painful, but she reached up and pushed his hair out of his eyes. For once, she was going to look into them while they had their conversation.
“Until it’s over?” Jules shuddered as the dream echoed in her ears and sharper pain shot through her shoulder— like lightning, branching off in mean directions. She could see it doing the same to Quinn.
“Nay, lass. This will never be over. You and I will never be over. We’re meant.”
Monty peeked over the log and laughed. “Ah, here they are. Moonin’— Dear God! Juliet’s been hit!”
***
Other than the day Jillian and her grandmother had gone missing—and granted, she didn’t remember much more than her mother bawling and ranting and pulling on her own hair—this day had been the most emotional of Jule’s life. And considering she’d also witnessed the murder of a dear friend that was saying a lot.
As it turned out, the man who’d shot her had been ordered, by Ewan, to kill Quinn. Ewan had tried to explain why, but Jules seemed to be the only one in the bunch that didn’t understand.
“Mayhap ye’d have a better understanding after ye’ve spent more time in my century, aye?” said Ewan, standing over her where she leaned against an equally traumatized and bleeding Quinn. Jillian had done what she could. The little round holes were clean. The arrow had been removed. And she was certain that nothing organ-ish had been affected in either of them. They’d been extremely lucky.
She shook her head. “Spend more time here? No way am I sticking around until it all makes sense. You people will never make sense.”
Quinn tensed and she realized what her little statement would have sounded like to him. She looked over, ready to explain, but he was watching a long lanky man walk toward them. A bow was slung over his bare and bony shoulder. She tried not to stare at the creature-like tufts of hair that filled his armpits.
“Jules,” Ewan said, “this is Enos.”
Enos, the man who had nailed both her and Quinn with one shot, gave her a little bow and mumbled something she didn’t understand. An apology, she assumed.
She gave him a little smile and a nod, having no problem forgiving him for following orders. If Quinn would have died, however, she was pretty sure she would have exacted all kinds of vengeance on his ass.
The man moved on to Quinn, gave him a fierce-looking frown, snatched up the two pieces of arrow that had been pulled from their bodies, then walked away into the trees. She wasn’t too comfortable with him being out there, somewhere, with that frown still on his face, but Ewan and Montgomery didn’t have a problem with it, and they knew the strange man best.
Ewan had decided that since she probably wasn’t going to forgive him, he should be the one to stop her bleeding. She didn’t understand what he was talking about until he came at her with a glowing red knife. She understood perfectly when she woke up to the smell of burned flesh.
It was then that she realized Jillian was a mess. Her sister had serious bed head, like she’d been trying to pull her hair out. Her eyes had thick red rings around them, and her nose didn’t look much better. She’d insisted then and there that if Jules died she’d die too, which Jules found very touching in revenge-free kind of way.
Unfortunately, that made Montgomery freak out and he scooped up his wife and disappeared for a while. When they’d returned, Jillian was noticeably recovered, although she was wearing half of the paint from her husband’s face, and it was Montgomery whose eyes and nose were red.
Jules thought she’d cheer everyone up by announcing that she was determined to live, but she didn’t hold out much hope for Ewan.
Quinn suggested Ewan start spending more time at prayers.
***
Never before had Castle Ross looked as much like a home to Quinn. But never before had he ridden toward it with a lass in his arms who made him want to live and love and laugh again. Well, at least not on horseback. And not for a very long time.
“We have a wee problem,” Ewan pointed out as they started down into the glen where Castle Ross stood waiting for them. The ridge was covered with wildflowers of blue and yellow, waving slowly in the breeze above the pink heather, calling to question the chance that anyone could have a problem on such a lovely summer day in the Highlands.
“What problem, Ewan?” Quinn asked.
“Weel. We’re returnin’ with two living Montgomerys and two green-toed faeries. How do we explain it?”
“Green-toed faeries?” Jules turned to her sister.
Jillian pulled up her skirt to reveal her green ostrich boots she’d been wearing when she first traveled back to the fifteenth century.
Juliet grinned, then pul
led up her own skirts. Her boots were grey, but they, too, were ostrich. They were a close match, all but the more intense black of Juliet’s hair.
They’d been crying off and on for hours, with very little said between them, and Quinn wondered if they were somehow speaking in each other’s minds. It was hard to explain it otherwise.
Jillian had insisted on stopping as soon as they reached Ross land, so they could have a chat and the wounded could rest. Then they’d walked into a wee clearing, stood toe to toe, and said nothing at all. Their arms had flown round each other and none of them had been dry since—the rain notwithstanding. Neither had he received much attention from his wee lass. Of course, she was also injured, but he could have used a query or two concerning his own health.
Just then, Juliet twisted the seat before him and looked up.
“Are you okay?” Her hand came up to pat the bandage that covered the hole the arrow had made.
“‘Tis a scratch,” he said, mollified.
He pushed her black hair behind an ear so he could see more of her lovely face. How could he ever have believed she was Jillian?
“And how do you fare, my Juliet?”
A pink shadow rose beneath her smooth cheeks.
“It doesn’t hurt like I thought it would.” She laid her cheek against his chest and sighed as if she were truly happy, in spite of her wounds.
“We must get you seen to. As much as I appreciate Jillian’s forethought when bringing a Primary Aid Kit with her, you still need doctoring. And you’ll not be leaving my side. I won’t stand for it.”
She turned forward and nestled back against him. He preferred to think of it as a sign of agreement.
“You have a bigger problem than that,” James said as he spurred his horse even with Quinn’s. He nodded toward the woman in his arms. “I’m not leaving this place without Juliet Bell.”
Quinn’s spine stretched in spite of the pain it caused.
“I’ll not allow her out of my sight,” he announced to anyone wanting to know.
Jillian’s horse appeared to his right.
“Well,” she said. “I’m certainly not leaving her here.” Then she turned in the saddle and gave Monty a look that demanded he say something. The look also suggested it be something that would please her.
The big man gave a nod and moved his horse up next to his wife’s.
“And I’ll not be leaving without Jillian, no matter how confusing it might be for our clansmen.” Monty tried not to smile, but failed. Then he laughed and pulled Jillian from her saddle and across his lap. “Was that heroic enough for you, love?”
Jillian rolled her eyes but appeared to be pleased with her new seating arrangement.
“I almost forgot!” she cried suddenly. “Two months ago, I got a package from Grandmother’s attorney.” She turned to Montgomery. “Remember?”
He only shrugged.
“He said he’d tried to find the woman it was meant for, but she’d disappeared. Since it was his last duty as executor, he was passing it on to me for safekeeping. He said if a Ms. Bell ever showed up asking about Grandmother, I was to give the package to her. He also said it was up to me whether or not I opened it, but that’s all he said. I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist taking a peek, so I put it in a safe deposit box in Edinburg. Too far away to tempt me, you know?”
She turned to Juliet.
“I never realized you had a different last name. I’d have remembered sooner. Maybe, whatever she wrote to you, will better explain why she took me. I still can’t believe she didn’t tell me about you, or our parents. I can’t believe I never remembered.” Jillian reached over the empty saddle of her own horse and squeezed Juliet’s hand. “We’ll go to Edinburg just as soon as we’re home.”
Home.
Quinn’s chest tightened and felt a bit hemmed in. He couldn’t help feeling like a greedy bastard, but he was tired of everyone trying to take his woman from him, if indeed she wished to be his.
He pulled back on the reins and his horse stopped, then began backing. “Give us a moment, if you please,” he said to the rest who had begun to slow their mounts.
He guided his horse off the road and close to a stand of birch trees, hoping the rustle of their silver leaves would somewhat mask their conversation and give them a sense of privacy. Monty raised a brow that warned the distance would have to do. It was irritating to have the man take on the role of Juliet’s protector when Quinn was completely capable of filling that role himself.
Juliet turned in the saddle, looked about at the trees, then up at him. “What now?”
Quinn smiled at the way she’d braced herself, like she was ready to defend them both at the drop of a hat. There was also a small flame of fear in her eyes, as if she worried he was about to shoo her from his saddle.
“Ah, my love. Tell me what you’re thinking. None of us seems to be able to give you up, but it is you who must decide where you will go and with whom, aye?”
Of course he had little choice. The Gordons believed he was dead and if word reached Laird Gordon that he’d been tricked, that the man he believed was Montgomery Ross yet lived, there would be all out war between the clans. Blood would be shed. Lives would be lost. And there was no need, thanks to a certain enchanted tomb that could take Quinn away.
But he wasn’t about to point it out to Juliet. She needed to decide if she wanted him with her after they reached the other side of time itself. He would not force her to change her life to accommodate him if he wasn’t truly the man she wanted.
“Tell me what you want, lass. And don’t think to spare me.”
She nodded, then hung her head. She fiddled with her fingers, but he doubted she was paying them much heed. When he forced her to lift her chin, her eyes were full of tears, and it frightened him.
“What is it, lass?”
Finally, she spoke.
“They all act like I’m so special. I’m not used to that. The Feds only treated me well because I have something they need. My parents always treated me like I was the consolation prize, not the prize. And Gabby only... Only...”
“Gabby what? I’ve heard ye say he’s like a father to ye. Do ye miss him that much, lass?”
“No. I don’t miss him. I miss who I thought he was, but that was just a fantasy. I hate him for taking that fantasy away, I guess. I hate him for killing Nikkos. In that second, after the shot, I realized I’d lost a brother and a father. How can I forgive him for that?”
“It is the same sometimes, with Libby.”
“Your wife?”
“Aye. Sometimes I can’t forgive her for leaving me.”
Jules looked down again. “Plane crash, right?”
“Right. But even though it wasna her fault, I’m still angry that she’s gone.”
She scrubbed at her fingers. “You want to hear something sappy?”
“Sappy?” He didn’t understand.
“Yeah. You know, corny?”
“Perhaps you should just tell me. I’ll brace myself, just in case.”
She nodded. “Okay. Well.” She took a breath and looked up. “I feel...less angry when... When I’m with you. See? I warned you it was sappy.”
He smoothed a fingertip along the side of her face, scared that she might dissolve if he pressed too hard. What had God seen in him, to deem him worthy of such a lass?
“Ah, love. I feel less angry within your presence as well, but that’s not the reason I must stay near you.”
She took a deep breath and sighed. Then she waited.
“I stay near ye, lass, because in my dream, it’s all I wanted. And when I woke from the dream, only to find ye there, in the dark with me, you were all I wanted still. And the feeling only grows stronger each time I touch you, or look at you, or hear your voice. It was not just a dream, lass. It was the telling of our future. The question is, do you want to share that future?”
She was crying again, but this time he had a cure for it. A hundred soft kisses across the whole of h
er face would fix her up fine.
“Give us a moment, he says.” Ewan laughed. “Ye’ve had yer moment. Has she decided then?”
“Another moment if ye don’t mind,” he called back. He ignored the groans of the others and looked into Juliet’s eyes. “What do ye say, lass. In which century are we to reside? For it was no exaggeration. I go where you go, if you’ll allow me.”
She shook her head and his heart stuttered.
“I have to go back. I have to testify. Gabby’s a murderer. If I can stop him, I will. If I stay here, with you, who knows how many people will die because I didn’t show up on the stand? I’d end up like Lady Macbeth, wandering around the castle trying to remove blood from my hands—blood only I can see. Can you understand?”
“Aye. I do. But do you wish me to go with you, lass?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I thought it would be too selfish of me to ask. It would kill me to leave you behind. Please, come with me. Please.” She leaned up and kissed him, not giving him a chance to reply.
In truth, he couldn’t be more pleased. He’d often believed that he’d done what he was supposed to do for history’s sake. He’d helped the Rosses transition from one laird to the next. He was only filling space now.
But since meeting Juliet in spirit, and then in person, he’d realized that filling space was no longer enough for him. And if she were consulted, Libby would agree. He had much to give, and just because he mourned Libby still, it did not justify turning his back on the rest of his life.
“Aye, lass. I’ll come.” Then he covered her one ear and held the other to his chest so he could shout. “Jillian! Just how many people to you reckon we can fit in Isobelle’s tomb?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
One week later...
Jules had choked down a dry biscuit breakfast with absolutely no coffee for washing it down. She was thrilled to be going back to civilization before lunch.
