from the direction of the castle. “As his former fiancée, I would have words with the bastard before ye kill ‘im.”
Oh, jolly.
At least his death wouldn’t be in vain; the Gordon lass would have some closure. And while he waited for the woman to appear, he wondered what he might have requested for a last meal, had they offered him one.
A deep fried Twinkie sounded just the ticket.
CHAPTER SIX
Jules followed the blond and the torch up out of the cellars and into the light. At the top of the steps, another man turned. He looked her up and down but showed no reaction. She tried to do the same and not stare at his plaid costume.
"Daniel,” said Ewan. “This is Jules. Guard her with yer life. She’s kin."
Kin?
The statement sent a little chill through her chest, even though it was an exaggeration.
Daniel gave a quick bow. Then, while he looked past them, down the steps, he pulled a tiny pouch from around his neck, kissed it, then tucked it back into his poorly fitting shirt.
"Dinna be daft, Daniel,” said Ewan. “Have ye seen the Muirs anywhere about?”
“Nay, yer lairdship.”
Jules jumped when she heard footsteps behind her and turned, ready to launch herself at Gabby’s man since she had nothing she could use for a weapon—Ewan still held the hammer. She only hoped a tumble back down the steps would break the hitter’s neck and not hers.
But it wasn’t a man at all. It was a matching set of women in long dresses, dresses that looked more like medieval costumes. Like Daniel’s.
Holy shit! Was it really 1496?
Maybe the hitter really had entered the tomb the same way she had—from another century. Maybe she really wasn’t dreaming. Maybe she was going to be sick.
As the look-alikes climbed the stairs, she realized the women were much younger than the ones who had put her in the tomb. Fiftyish. Long, straight, strawberry blond hair that was turning gray in all the same places. They even held onto their skirts the same way. It was like watching a woman walk up the steps while someone held a mirror next to her.
Very freaky.
There was something unnerving about their matching smiles, though. Jules didn’t trust them for a second.
Ewan let out a deep sigh and she couldn’t tell whether he was glad to see them or really disappointed.
"Speak of the sisters and they’ll appear,” he muttered. “Ye’ll see I spoke the truth about them.”
The women in question reached the landing. One of them looked surprised to see Jules. The other one kept her eyes on Ewan and gave him a little bow.
"Laird Ross,” she said. “Ye've a busy cellar this day it seems."
Ewan shook his head slightly. "Hopefully, ye’re the last to come out of it. Won't the pair of ye sup with us this e'en?" The last sentence came out through his teeth.
The second woman gave him a sly nod. "Such a kind laird ye are, Ewan. We'd like nothing more than to sit and have a grand chat with Jillian.
The way the woman was eyeing her, Jules knew she understood perfectly well she wasn't Jillian. Was she hoping for an introduction? Or did she expect Jules to lie about who she was? She had to admit, it was a little intriguing to know that her sister had known these people. She just wondered why Jillian had come to be there in the first place.
Jules had been about nine when she’d demanded to know why her grandmother had stolen Jillian and disappeared. They’d been searching for six years and the only explanation her parents had given was, “Ivy MacKay is mentally ill.” But at nine, Jules wasn’t buying it anymore. Finally, they’d told her what the paranoia was all about, that the old woman was certain there were people in Scotland who would try to kill Jillian, who would try to bury her alive. The crazy part was that Grandmother claimed that she’d traveled to the future and been there when those murderers were planning it.
Since Jules’ mother couldn’t believe her, the old woman had taken Jillian away, to protect her. And back in the days of no internet, it was much harder to find someone who didn’t want to be found.
Now that Jules realized she, too, had been convinced to climb into that Scottish tomb—and apparently traveled through time—she was beginning to think her grandmother wasn’t as paranoid or crazy as her parents had believed.
But even if she hadn’t been, that didn’t excuse her for