though slowly, and show a bit of respect for anyone offering him but a dram of hope. He’d need something more promising to get him on his feet, however.
Etha Gordon stepped forward. A manservant stood beside her holding the light. The last face he’d seen, before losing consciousness at the gallows, had belonged to this lovely red-haired lass. Unfortunately, the backhand that had sent his abused head back into the darkness had also belonged to her. Either her brothers had taught her a thing or two about defending herself, or he was a soft, delicate man to have been laid low by such a soft, delicate lass. One more blow to the brain would be his last, no doubt. He was in no better shape than a prize fighter who’d lost one too many prizes. And he’d best start protecting himself or he didn’t deserve to survive.
Quinn knew two things: The Gordon had but one daughter, and Montgomery Ross had been about to marry the woman when his current wife, Jillian, materialized in the tomb and made such ghostly noises that everyone fled Castle Ross. All believed she’d been the ghost of Montgomery’s sister, Isobelle, come to protest the wedding. Obviously, Etha was not the forgive and forget type.
“Etha? Is that you?”
“My name is Betha, ye bastard. Ye were about to speak vows with me and ye failed to learn my name?” Her voice got louder as she went on. A sweet voice, turned a bit ugly at the end.
From what Quinn had heard, she was a quiet biddable lass. Or perhaps she had been, once. It was possible she’d been affected by Isobelle’s ghost arriving in time to ruin her wedding. The only thing Montgomery had done wrong was not to have learned her name. Quinn was certain both Monty and Ewan had told him it was Etha.
“Forgive me if I heard amiss, but did you say you’d see me dead unless? Unless what, Lady Betha?”
She stared at him for a moment, as if weighing the worth of his apology. She gave a nod, as if her mind was made up, then she offered a smile that made him shiver. He didn’t care much for the look in her pale eyes.
“Ye will lie with me, Montgomery Ross. I will at least have yer child, bastard or no.”
He was not about to explain that one night together had little chance of producing a child, not if keeping quiet meant he might be untied, conscious, and on the other side of those bars. The combination meant freedom.
“As you wish, my lady. Will you then see me free?”
“If ye please me, Ross. But only if ye please me.”
Was that her game? Was she only looking for a bit of pleasure, perhaps a taste of what she’d forfeited when she’d run from Castle Ross and a perfectly sound bridegroom? What might be wrong with the woman, other than her family’s manners, that kept her from finding another husband all this while?
Suddenly he was much more hopeful that Percy would come through for him. Pleasing Lady Betha sounded like a task he might not be man enough to accomplish. She was pretty enough. Beneath all her velvet and furs, she seemed petite, but in truth was probably an average size for the century. But lying with the daughter of the man who was supposedly his greatest enemy just didn’t seem like a wise move to make. If they were caught, he’d die on the spot, he was sure, and the idea of dying with a bare arse would make his martyrdom anything but noble.
He hoped his wife Libby was otherwise occupied in Heaven at the moment, and not looking down on his sorry state.
Since Percy showed no signs of coming to a quick decision, he felt it wise to try and buy the man some thinking time. But in order to do so, he would need food. His stomach had long since ceased to growl, turned outside-in as it was. He needed food, and water.
“Aye, my lady. I’d be happy to oblige you,” he said in his most seductive voice. She stepped closer, to be able to hear him. She lifted a pale hand to her face and he was certain she’d gotten a whiff of Skully, as he’d begun to think of the skeleton next door. “But I need my strength to do so, as you might understand. But mayhap a bit of sleep is all I need.”