One reached out, like he was going to take the ring away from the blind man, but Martin slapped it away. The guard narrowed his eyes, then waved a hand in front of Martin’s face, only to be slapped again.
“Ye think I canna smell yer oxter each time ye lift that arm? Now back away. Ye’ve made me lose my count. I must start from the beginning all over again.”
Her stomach was tied in knots but she didn’t dare look at Quinn for comfort. She was absolutely petrified of who might be coming to claim her as a wife. Maybe someone along the road, maybe one of Cheval’s friends, had taken a fancy to her and meant to cart her off to who-knows-where. If they did, who was going to help Quinn get away? And if Quinn didn’t get away, there wouldn’t be anyone coming to her rescue either.
Of course there was also the hope that Ewan had come looking for her. She’d just have to make sure they took Quinn with them. But the thing she was most afraid of was that the precious dream was over, that she’d never see Quinn again.
Was that what the dream had been—a warning to make the most of their few moments together?
Jules shook her head. That couldn’t be it. It couldn’t be all they would have. She wouldn’t allow it. That dream was going to end the way she wanted it to end, and heaven help whoever got in her way!
Martin sighed and slipped a key in the lock. Her time was up. Quinn had dropped the casual pose and was gripping his own cell door, growling in frustration. She was glad she wasn’t the only one.
But she couldn’t give up hope. Maybe he’d find a way to escape after all. Maybe he could somehow help her. But just in case someone was there to haul her away, Quinn would need some clue as to where she’d been taken. If it was Ewan, then Quinn would know the Calvary was near.
"What's this husband’s name?" she demanded as they dragged her from her cell. They had to pry her fingers off the swinging bars, but she didn't make it easy. "Just tell me his name and I'll go quietly."
"She will not. 'Tis a trick,” said one.
"No! I promise! Just tell me, right now, who it is who thinks I'm his wife." They had to say the name while Quinn could hear it. She was terrified she’d just disappear, never to be heard from again. Medieval times. Scotland. She had no idea what the rules were, but she suspected that men could just claim a woman and haul her away. Probably not by the hair, though. Hopefully they’d progressed a bit beyond cavemen.
"Bond, something,” said one man.
Bond? That wasn't even a Scottish name, was it?
She held her ground and rolled her eyes. "You don't remember his name?"
"Here, I do,” said the other. “His name was silly. Said it was Bond James Bond he did. Now you promised to come peaceful-like." The bigger of the two men stepped back and waited for her to comply.
But how could she comply?
Bond, James Bond? It had to be Gabby's man. It had to! And if he was allowed to take her away, she couldn’t help Quinn! She’d be dragged back to the twenty-first century and handed over to Gabby. Then they’d both be dead.
A little image surfaced in her mind of Quinn and her reuniting in the clouds.
No way! No effing way! She’d finally gotten her hands on him. It was like God had granted her exactly what she’d asked for, and now He was taking it back.
What had she promised? To give up her revenge on Jillian if she could just have a Highlander of her own. Well, she was going to make sure God stuck to his bargain. She just didn’t know how she was going to do it.
She spun around and looked at Quinn, but he seemed as alarmed as she was. Of course, he was from the future and would recognize the name of Bond, James Bond. The taunt was clear. McKiller had tracked her down, gotten the ear of Laird Gordon, and they'd made a deal.
Maybe she wasn’t bulletproof after all.
A guard tugged on her arm. "Come now, lass. There are witnesses and ye gave us yer word."
"All right. Just let me say goodbye to—” Wait! She was supposed to act like she didn’t know him, or at least she was supposed to