Not Without Juliet - By L.L. Muir Page 0,28
going crazy, but it would have to wait. She had to put a lot of space between herself and that castle, and she had to be careful not to get lost while she did it. The trees had probably been cleared so the Scots could easily see their enemies approaching or something.
At the moment, it was more useful for a hitman to clearly see his target.
Jules turned and looked into the outer bailey/parking lot just in time to see a large dark figure run across the bridge and head for the gate.
She turned north and started running.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jillian was giddy on the way home from Edinburg. Quinn’s brother, and his wife, Maggie had decided to stay a few more days in the city, with their kids, so she and Montgomery would have the manor house to themselves. She would have to call the butler and tell him to give the staff a few extra days of vacation too.
Holiday, that was. Scots didn’t call it a vacation. She had to remember that so she didn’t sound completely American every time she opened her mouth.
She noticed her husband watching her instead of the darkening road and she raised a brow.
“Are ye finally thinkin’ what I’ve been thinkin’?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said in her best Scots accent. “I’m thinking we should have a grand barbeque and invite the staff... And their families, o’ course.”
“Truly?” His brow worried into a pucker.
“Wasn’t that what you were thinking?” She looked back at the road and tried to keep a straight face.
After a moment, she looked back at him. He was still speechless, though at least he was watching where he was driving. She took pity on him.
“Or maybe you were thinking they’d rather have a longer holiday.”
His head whipped around. His boyish smile made her heart flip. She really shouldn’t have teased him. Sarcasm was not as common in the fifteenth century.
“Of course that means we’ll have to take care of ourselves,” she warned. “Or maybe we could take care of each other. Would you like a bath?”
He laughed. “I thought ye far too generous with the servants, madam, but only because ye might mean to give yer attentions to them instead of me. I am relieved.”
“I thought you might be.” She held out her hand to him and he took it, pulled it up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She was embarrassed her skin wasn’t smoother, but she’d become an obsessive compulsive lately and washed her hands constantly. There was this stuff her grandmother used to use on her hands when they got chapped doing chores around the farm. Cornhuskers Something-or-other. It looked like snot, but it worked. If they couldn’t get it here, she’d have to order some.
“Bitches!” He dropped her hand and grabbed the steering wheel with both of his.
In the beams from the Hummer, Jillian couldn’t see what might have spooked him. No sheep or anything else in the road. When it turned out not to be life-threatening, she laughed. He had taken up modern cursing like it was a sport, but he was still getting things a little mixed up.
“I believe you meant to say son of a bitch. And it’s not a nice thing to say, just so you know.”
He shook his head and instead of taking the upper road to the house, he drove a bit farther and turned into the castle’s parking lot. She thought maybe some tourists had ignored the closed sign again, but there were no other cars to be seen. When he stopped the car, she finally understood.
“I said witches, Jillian, not bitches. Though I suspect you were not far afield.”
She couldn’t argue with that.
The Muir sisters, Loretta and Lorraine, stood just beyond the reach of the headlights, at the corner of the crumbling inner wall. Jilly’s first thought was that the sisters were much too old to be running around at that hour. Then she remembered they were much too old to be doing any of the things they did, the time of day didn’t matter.
Muir twins were never good news, no matter what century they popped up in.
“Be nice, Montgomery. If it weren’t for them, we’d have never met. Remember that.” She was reminding herself as much as her husband.
“How do they always find their way into my castle, I’d like to ken. Some mornings they’re already inside when I unlock the bloody doors.”
“Maybe they’re not witches. Maybe they’re ghosts,” she joked as she got out of the car.
“Not ghosts yet,