Not Without Juliet - By L.L. Muir Page 0,21

before Quinn was thin enough to slip through the bars, but too dead to do so.

He closed his eyes, content to sleep for a while.

***

Quinn hadn’t quite drifted off before the inside of his eyelids turned red, then orange. Someone was coming.

Only it wasn’t Percy. It was the violent little man, Cinead.

Shite!

Two large guards entered Quinn’s cell and took him by the arms.

“I’ve just saved your life, you know.” Quinn needed the future head of Clan Gordon to think kinder, gentler thoughts about him. The fact that the man had come so closely on the heels of his younger brother gave Quinn hope he might have overheard the end of their conversation. The rough handling by the guards took that hope away.

The small man seemed none too proud to carry his own torch and held it aloft while Quinn was brought before him.

“I’m aware of that,” he said. His voice was quite normal, though Quinn didn’t know what he’d been expecting. “Percy willna be killing me in me sleep, but that willna keep the others from killing me in the bright light o’ day, will it?”

So. The man had heard the conversation after all.

As Cinead stuffed a rag into Quinn’s mouth, he noticed swelling across the smaller man’s face. There was a good chance the curve of his nose was new.

Quinn nodded, accepting the blame for the other man’s beating. He just hoped Percy might share the prophecy with the rest of his brothers. Of course, if he hoped his brothers would become impotent in all things...

Shite!

“It’s time to meet yer maker, Laird Ross, be he god or devil.” Cinead led the way out of the dungeon, and as relieved as Quinn was to get away from the smell, he’d gladly go back and wait for Percy to come ‘round.

The little parade proceeded out of the castle proper, past the inner bailey, and into the wider outer bailey where a makeshift gallows had been erected in the moonlight. Next to the gallows, a pole rose out of a stack of wood and Quinn had seen the drawings of enough such constructions to know it was meant for the burning of a witch.

And witch burning seemed all the more barbaric when one found himself to be the witch in question. He should have kept his mouth shut. The Gordon hadn’t been impressed by his fortune telling but he’d recognized a grand opportunity to rid himself of an enemy. But why send Cinead to do the deed in the middle of the night? Or was it only that the little man wanted his own revenge and would take it out from under the old man’s nose?

Perhaps there was good reason Cinead Gordon would end up leading his clan.

The future laird looked up into his face and grinned.

“I know what ye think, Laird Ross,” he said. “But if we doona allow you to speak, you canna call the devil to your rescue, aye?” He stopped just below the noose and jumped up to swat at it, like he was proving he was tall enough to reach it.

But he wasn’t.

The noose hung perfectly still. The men holding Quinn stifled their laughter.

“Get on with it,” Cinead hissed. “Someone’s coming,”

Quinn tried to turn, to see if maybe Percy had finally decided to act, but the guards pushed him forward. One had a fist full of hair at the back of his head that kept Quinn from seeing anything but the closing proximity of his head to the noose. With his arms tied behind his back once again, there was only so much bucking he could do. His only hope was to bob and weave to keep that noose off his head. And pray for a miracle, of course.

A forceful blow stunned him for a wee second, but it was enough. The rough rope fell on his collar bone, then tightened against his neck as he plowed his body into one of the guards. Unfortunately, he picked the wrong guard. It was the second man who held the tail end of the rope, and he pulled down hard to bring Quinn to heel. The abrasive rope cut into the delicate skin below his jaw. The growth of two days’ beard did little to protect him.

“Climb up there,” The Runt demanded, pointing to a short stool.

Quinn just glared down at him, wishing with his eyes that the brothers would have beaten him to death and damn the future consequences.

“Just a moment, brother!” A woman’s voice came from behind,