Not Without Juliet - By L.L. Muir Page 0,35

pine sap in the moist air. She didn’t think it had rained. Surely she wouldn’t have slept through that.

A bird flapped its wings above her head, then settled again. Dawn wasn’t far away, and she was afraid Gabby’s man wasn’t either. If she was lucky, he had stopped to sleep too, and if she moved quickly, she could put a bit more distance between them. She would head east for a little longer, then turn south toward Castle Ross.

She made her way back to the ground feeling pretty refreshed considering she’d maybe only slept an hour or two. After walking about a mile to the east, she found a small track that could be called a road. The feeling of safety, of humanity, increased with each step on the rutted dirt. Someone had been there. Someone would be there again. Someone with two legs and no fangs.

“Woohoo,” she said, but only in her smallest voice, just in case. A moment later, she came around a bend and found herself in the dooryard of a little cottage. It looked almost lived in. Her first instinct was to move away, quietly, before she woke someone. She really didn’t need any help, after all. Of course she was starving, but she didn’t need anything quite so much as she needed to get back into that tomb.

But.

If someone inside knew a good wolf-less road that would lead her straight back to Castle Ross, she’d be a fool not to ask. Of course, when the sun came over the trees, she’d know which way was east. The problem was, she wasn’t quite so sure how long she’d actually gone north. She’d checked the North Star a couple of times, when she’d been able to see through the trees, but there was a chance she’d gone in circles. What if Castle Ross were due south?

Damnit.

All that wondering drained away her confidence and suddenly, she didn’t dare take another step without a little guidance. Of course, there was also a chance that no one lived in the little cottage, but she wasn’t going to wait until the sun came up to find out.

She walked to the door and knocked. “Hello?” She knocked again. “Anybody home?” Then she realized she needed to speak Gaelic and repeated herself.

The door creaked wide, but it was too dark to see who opened it. She stepped back so she wouldn’t seem too threatening.

“Oh, we’re home, lassie,” the man said as he stepped out into the yard. “It just doesna happen to be our home.”

The laughter of more men—many more men—came from inside, and Jules stepped back, but the first man hurried around behind her.

Hadn’t she just gone through the same thing with the wolves? Easier to escape one than the whole pack?

She had just decided to turn and rush the guy behind her, maybe knee him where it counts, when another man emerged and her chance was gone. This one was a lot taller and had to bend over to get through the opening. When he stood, long curly hair fell around his shoulders and in spite of the blue cast of the sky, she recognized his face. Laughing hazel eyes. Slashing brows.

Gabby’s man. Only now, he was wearing a kilt and looking a little too at home in the fifteenth century.

“Juliet Bell.” He tossed his head, to swing his wild mane out of his smug face. “You should have let me out.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ewan fidgeted in the great Ross Chair. He’d a bad feeling and it wasn’t due wholly to the fact that he didn’t belong in the chair, but that was part of it. Montgomery had obtained the clan’s blessing to put the Rosses into Ewan’s care over a year ago, but it didna make the chair or the mantle of leadership any the more comfortable.

None had known Monty was leaving and not coming back. And they still didn’t know, thanks to the fact that Quinn Ross had taken upon himself the role of former laird. If they’d not looked so similar, the switch would have never worked. And many a time, Ewan had wished Monty’s great nephew had never thought to make his sacrifice, for keeping the man home and hale was taking up far too much of Ewan’s time when he had a clan to care for.

Of course he was grateful. Had Monty disappeared a year past, the Gordons would have poured in from the North and taken over with no thought for the blood spilt. But with Quinn