Not Without Juliet - By L.L. Muir Page 0,51

was staring into hers...

She realized he was waiting for her to say something. What had he been talking about?

"Right. Halloween,” she said. “So, who is he?"

"A stubborn man, or so Martin told me." It wasn’t the casual way he’d said it, or the slightly higher pitch that gave him away, but the pause before he’d spoken.

"You thought I wouldn't want to know he was stubborn? I doubt that. What aren't you telling me?"

He sighed. "He was a son to The Gordon."

She turned to look at the skeleton again. No way could she think of it as just a Halloween decoration anymore. He had been someone. This castle had been his home. And his father had let him die here, chained to the wall, in the dark.

A shiver went up her spine. No matter how cold-hearted a murderer Gabby was, he could have never been so cruel. Or could he? Poor Nikkos. Like a son. How his heart must have broken in that millisecond between Gabby pointing the gun and firing. But how many times, while he waited to die, had this Skully’s heart broken? A bullet would have been kinder.

“Lass.” Quinn Ross waved a hand to catch her eye.

She turned back to him. He shook his hair out of his eyes and looked into her soul again and she couldn’t help but smile. She was like the candle, coming to life under his attention. It made her feel warm in a creepy dungeon that had no warmth. Too bad he was just a nice guy, trying to keep her calm.

"You didn't want me to know that the man—into whose dungeon we've been tossed—is ruthless enough to leave his son in this same dungeon to rot. Is that it?"

He smiled. His eyes crinkled and he winked at her. "Aye. That’s just it."

That wink sent chills to all the places she’d felt warm just a second ago. Winks, she realized, were highly under-rated.

She was afraid her knees might just give out if she didn’t look away. Unfortunately, Skully was the only thing to look at.

"What a very, very sad Halloween decoration."

"Aye, lass. Now, let’s not waste what time we have left to us."

She could get used to being called lass. It beat being called Jillian any day. She took a deep breath and turned back to him, trying to think of something to say, to keep him talking.

"Why do you say that? You always say that.”

She gasped when she realized it was true. He’d always said that—but in the dream!

How had her subconscious known she would end up there, having that exact conversation? How could she have dreamed about a man she’d never laid eyes on yet? She’d never even known about Jillian when the dreams had started, let alone the Castle Ross website where she’d found his picture.

Quinn’s picture.

Gah! He must have thought she was so stupid. He wouldn’t have any idea what she was talking about. But, holy crap! Quinn Ross—not Montgomery Ross—haunting her dreams?

It had been a shocker, running across that picture and recognizing him when he shouldn’t have existed. She’d obsessed about him 24/7, for weeks, making herself sick until she’d turned her attention to escaping from her federal babysitters.

But he was real. And he wasn’t Monty. And now he was going to think she was certifiable.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, waiting for the ceiling to fall on her head.

He laughed. Then he stopped short. Then he laughed again, and all without her looking up. He was delighted about something, and after a few seconds, she couldn’t stand it anymore and opened her eyes.

He reached out with his free hand and took hold of her fingers, pulling her up tight against the bars, and suddenly, she felt like they were in his cell and not hers. The heat coming through the empty gaps was more than enough to make up for the cold bars pressed against her. He studied her face for a minute and didn’t seem to find anything unpleasant, even though she hadn’t seen a shower or a brush for two days and been dragged halfway across Scotland by Cheval. The last time she’d cleaned up had been at Debra’s.

"I always say that?” he whispered. “We've only met, lass. When did I say it? And what did I say?"

She looked down, embarrassed. He’d been laughing at her after all.

“Speak to me, lass. I must know. Tell me the truth of it, if ye please.”

It was charming, the way he begged.

She took a deep