Not Without Juliet - By L.L. Muir Page 0,44

jeered as if he knew full well what was afoot.

The Runt was not alone. Another shadow, much larger, separated itself from the wall and joined them. Either it was The Gordon or else the man had a son that looked just like him.

“Father!” Betha sounded genuinely horrified, but Quinn had to give her credit for not cowering.

“Answer the question, daughter.” The man’s growl sent shivers up Quinn’s spine. It was the first time he’d seen the chieftain truly angry. How did Montgomery manage to survive so many years as this man’s enemy?

Quinn took a smooth and slow step backward. It was one of those primal instincts to avoid the attention of an angry animal. Out of all the times he'd had a visitor, since waking in the dungeon, he never felt closer to a noose than he did at that moment.

Other Gordon siblings slithered through the entrance carrying torches and fanned out. The place was lit up like they were about to have a party. Quinn just hoped it wasn't a lynching party, but he was afraid he was wrong.

"I only came for my due, father." Betha squared her shoulders. She was either very brave, or very stupid. Perhaps, she was just very Gordon, for she looked overmuch like her father as the pair stood facing each other with their hands on their hips.

"Yer due? Ye think ye're due a romp in this man's bed? Ye think ye have some right to his seed? Nay daughter. Ye’ve the right to a cell there next to him if ye're as addlepated as to believe that."

She glanced at the cell, at the remains hanging against the wall, and swallowed, but she didn’t back down. Once again, she faced the old man and raised her chin.

"Ye promised, Father."

The runt frowned, but quickly smoothed his features. Quinn could understand why no one would wish to reveal their thoughts among such an emotional bunch. The rest of the brothers leaned forward, listening closely.

The Gordon’s nostrils flared. "I promised noth—"

"Ye did! Ye promised me that if I bore ye a grandson," Betha pointed at Quinn. "A fine grandson that resembled him, that it would be my child to rule once ye’re gone."

Her father barked with laughter. The sons didn’t seem to find humor in their sister’s words. Perhaps it had sounded like something their father would promise.

Finally, the old man stopped laughing when he noticed his sons’ faces.

"Ye daft wench,” the man spit. “Ye thought I'd place a bastard in my stead when I have sae many sons?" His voice boomed louder with each word. Betha finally took a step back, shaking her head, edging away from the bars as if she now believed she might end up on the other side of them. Then she stopped and lifted that chin again.

Was she crazy?

"He wouldn't be a bastard...if I marry him." Betha lifted a shrewd eyebrow, but her father never noticed, busy as he was, glaring at Quinn.

"He's no longer laird of his clan. There is nothing noble about him, lass. Look ye. Look ye past his breeches and ye'll see for yerself. He's a broken man. Hardly worth the rope to hang him." The Gordon leaned close to the bars. "And mark ye well, Ross. Ye've caused enough grief between me bairns. Make yer peace with God. Ye hang on the morrow.” Then he turned to make what was sure to be a grand exit.

Quinn lunged forward. If this was his last chance, he’d have his say.

“Why, you mewling warty bastard!” He spit through the bars.

That got the devil to turn at least. The siblings stood perfectly still, only their eyes followed their father as he retraced his steps.

“I pity you, Gordon,” Quinn jeered. “You have neither their love nor their respect. You have only their fear. But if that’s all you want in this world, you’ve got it. Do you know how history will remember you, Oh Mighty Cock O’ the North?”

Quinn had everyone’s attention and it was going to his head. He couldn’t have stopped had he wished to. Momentum was pushing him hard and fast, down a hill that might end at that scaffolding sooner than planned. But it was more than probable he was going to die. Today or tomorrow would make little difference.

The Gordon rolled his eyes, but there was interest there. He was still listening, waiting to hear about his legacy, even if he didn’t believe Quinn had The Sight.

“You will not be remembered,” Quinn announced. “The world will