Not Without Juliet - By L.L. Muir Page 0,45
hear the name Cock o’ the North and have no idea what it means or who you were. In fact, lairds of Clan Gordon will use the nickname when it suits them. History will remember nothing of you.” It might not be true, but it might give the arrogant man pause.
The man’s face fell the tiniest bit, then recovered.
“Ye’re as daft as yer sisters,” he said. “What do I care about history?”
His wide shoulders turned away once more.
But Quinn had seen it, that spark of anger in the bastard’s eye and the set of his jaw when he heard that others would use his cocky nickname.
“That could all change, you know.”
It was a desperate promise, to get the man to turn back, to change his mind about hanging him tomorrow, but perhaps The Gordon had recognized it as such. After all, the man had seen no proof that Quinn was able to tell the future, and he wouldn’t be around to see if the Runt’s offspring took his place or not.
One by one, the Gordon siblings, including Betha, tossed a look over their shoulders before following their father out. The funny thing was, Quinn knew he wasn’t the one they’d been looking at. It had been his bone-thin companion in the next cell.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was morning again. As Jules and her kidnappers entered through the massive open gates, a whirlwind of emotions entered with them, nicely contained in her gut. First of all, she was relieved they had arrived anywhere at all. Her butt was sore and she was anxious to see if her legs would even work again. Secondly, she was intrigued by the sight of the huge castle perched on a plateau that hung over the sea, and it looked as if she was going to get to see inside. Next, she was pissed that she’d been taken so friggin’ far North, away from Castle Ross and her little escape hatch—so pissed she was going to make her new set of captors effing sorry they’d ever laid eyes on her!
And last but not least, she was nervous and excited to see what Fate had in store for her. For the last mile or so, she’d had the growing sensation that something very important was just ahead. It was like the foreboding she’d had before climbing up into the tomb, only this time it was a good foreboding. And since her premonitions were pretty reliable, she was almost giddy. But she wasn’t about to give these Bozos any points for escorting her there.
She threw an elbow into the ribs of the tall one sitting on the saddle behind her. “Get me off this friggin’ horse.”
He took a long deep breath, like he was trying to control his temper, and she realized she might be messing with the wrong guy. Just because she’d felt ten feet tall and bullet proof since she’d gotten away from the Feds, didn’t mean it was true. Besides, these guys didn’t use bullets, they used blades. And they all had at least one.
“Please,” she added.
The guy laughed and jumped to the ground. He was still smiling when he reached up for her, thank goodness.
When some ragamuffins ran forward for a good look at her, her captor told them she was a witch. The kids scattered. A few minutes later, there was a mob.
"We're havin' a hanging and a burnin' in the morning, Cheval. We can easily add this one for kindling." This news came from a grubby looking Scot with either a kilt that was too short or skinny legs that were too long. When he got close enough to see her face, he looked surprised. “Or perchance she’d be a poor choice for kindling after all.”
“Bonjour, Percy,” said the man she’d ridden with, apparently named Cheval.
"The fire might smell a mite better," someone hollered.
Oh, hell. In what century did they burn people as witches?
She tried to think, tried to put years to movies she’d seen, then realized they probably burned witches in all of them. But they couldn’t burn her. She had a date with the New York District Attorney in eight days. And the only way to make that date was to convince these people she was worth more than a little firewood.
She laughed loud, to get everyone’s attention.
"Burn me? Are you kidding? There is a huge red-headed man near Castle Ross who would pay a fortune for me. And you want to burn me?"
She'd broken her stick on the redhead’s face, but