Not Without Juliet - By L.L. Muir Page 0,12

man turned and made his way to the high table. “Come. Enjoy yer last meal if ye can, with me bairns watchin’ o’er ye.”

The blades were drawn back, but the little monsters followed his every move as he straightened, stretched his legs then tested their ability to walk a straight line to the laird’s table.

Once he was seated, the devil’s wee army set up camp around his feet, aiming their blades in four directions as before. It was the North blade that worried him the most. The Gordon had known his business when he’d said, “Enjoy your meal if you can.”

The meat was greasy. The trencher of bread looked as if a few meals had been served from it before, but Quinn couldn’t be picky. His hands were cut loose and he ate whatever looked edible and even a few things that didn’t, but he managed to keep it all down. The Gordon was famous for his dungeons and if the man wanted to give him a grand tour for a week or two before he died of hunger and thirst, Quinn would be wishing he could have this disgusting meal back again.

I should just stand and fight. Die with my boots on. Wasn’t that the whole reason for trading Monty places? To put an end to my own suffering?

He’d expected to die from grief, after losing his wife, Libby. If he died now, he’d be with her all the sooner. Why drag it out? He’d been trying to picture her in his mind all evening, anticipating their ethereal reunion, but her image was never clear. Even remembering her photos wasn’t working.

It had to be the stress. If he could relax, he’d remember every detail.

“I’ll show ye the dungeon when ye’re finished, Ross. Ye’ll be impressed, ye will.”

This was it. The chance to stand and die. He might be able to wrench a nice sharp blade from the boy in front of him, slit the throat of The Gordon, then be quickly skewered by his numerous full grown sons glaring at him from the other side of the table. And it would all be over.

Why did he hesitate?

Did he truly want to live? After years of mourning, was he ready to live again? How cruel was Fate if that were true, taking away his life just as he’d decided to embrace it?

His tense muscles relaxed with one deep, accepting breath. He would go where he was bid and no doubt use every last moment mourning the years he’d wasted. When he met her in Heaven, he was sure Libby would have a few choice words for him as well.

The thought of his wife brought to mind the wife Montgomery Ross would have had a year ago if his wedding hadn’t been interrupted by a charming lass from Quinn’s own century.

“How fares yer daughter, Gordon? Any chance—”

“Silence! Ye’ll nay lay eyes upon the lass, let alone anything else.” Gordon glanced at Quinn’s crotch. “Ye had yer chance.”

The laird ate faster then, more anxious to show off his dungeons, no doubt.

“I can honestly say, Laird, that I’m not the man you knew a year ago. I’m a kinder man. A forgiving man, even.”

“Aye. ‘Tis best ye left yer clan into Ewan Ross’ hands, then. A laird canna lead with kindness and live long.” Gordon eyed his sons, as if he expected one of them to attack him before the enemy at his side might do so. Six men, including Long Legs, glared back as they chewed, as if they were considering doing just that as soon as the food was gone.

Someone was missing.

“Hey, now,” Quinn said. “Where’s my brother of the law, then? Where’s Cinead?”

The laird choked, then took a long pull of wine from his tankard. When he set the drink aside, Quinn realized the man was furious, but trying to control himself. Oh, he was going to end up in the dungeons all right. But at least there wouldn’t be small boys cutting his flesh to ribbons there. Or so he hoped.

Finally, the other man spoke.

“Ye’ve no brother of the law here, Ross. When yer sister chose Neptune’s arms over Cinead’s, the marriage was nulled.” The Gordon took a deep breath and the redness that had been climbing up his neck receded. “The man is above stairs, with his bride.”

“Ah yes, I remember now.” Quinn couldn’t contain his excitement as histories began to bubble up in his mind.

Gordon frowned and leaned forward. “Ye remember what?”

“Morna’s husband, Cinead, took a second