Not Without Juliet - By L.L. Muir Page 0,64

hear him.

"Hush,” she hissed.

When she realized James had been tormenting Quinn on purpose, she glared over her shoulder. James grinned back.

She rolled her eyes and spoke loud enough for Quinn to hear.

“It was something Martin, the blind guard, said. That you didn't sound like a monster to him. That made me consider what else you might be. And I remembered you’d never actually come out and said you were going to kill me or deliver me to Gabby.

“There were only two possibilities when you chased me into Castle Ross. Hitman or cop. If you were a British babysitter—I mean agent—then you wouldn't be beating my boyfriend to death. Then there was the small detail of you winking at me every chance you got.”

Quinn grunted.

James laughed. "Shut up, man. Twenty minutes and I'll let you sit." He then gave her a little squeeze around the middle. He was enjoying himself. For a few quiet minutes they were lulled by the clap of horses’ hooves on wet mud. Finally, Quinn’s voice interrupted again.

“Did she say boyfriend?”

James laughed. "She did."

Jules was mortified. The man was at least ten years older than her, and she’d called him her boyfriend.

Gah!

Somewhere, under all that burlap, he was probably rolling his eyes, wondering how he was ever going to get rid of her.

She'd plunged into a special kind of hell when she'd seen Quinn lying on the floor and for that second or two afterwards—until she’d convinced herself it was a hoax. She would have thrown herself across his body and started checking for vital signs if it hadn't been for the slow twitch of James' eye. Then, she was able to do a little method acting of her own. But had it been enough? Was someone suspecting, even now? Would Gordon send men after them?

Jules turned in the saddle. "Can't this horse go any faster?"

James gave her a little smile. "Oh, aye. But it will jostle our package to death in truth. We only need to get over that ridge. Just keep watching the ridge."

She realized his arm had inched up a bit from her waist. Then she felt his long fingers twitch. Maybe he was enjoying himself just a little too much.

"You can let go of me now. I promise this Wyoming girl can keep her butt in the saddle. And it's not like I'm going to run off, right?"

"Oh, right ye are. I beg pardon." He pulled his arm away.

He still sat too close, and she could feel his breath against the top of her head, but she was done complaining.

"James?"

"Aye?"

"Are you married?"

"Uh uh."

Quinn mumbled something she didn't understand, but James must have. He scooted his rump back behind the saddle, until their bodies were no longer touching.

***

As it turned out, they had to leave Quinn across the saddle for a lot longer than planned because at the top of the ridge, there were a dozen Gordons guarding the border. All of them watched James and her like they were suspected pick-pockets leaving a jewelry store. She could feel their stares while they headed down the other side of the ridge with their package in tow.

When the ground leveled out again, James finally turned off the road and into the woods. Remembering the wolf she’d faced, she didn’t know if it was time to relax, or time to worry harder.

“This is the straightest shot toward Ross lands. They would expect us to leave the road here,” he said.

As her eyes adjusted to the shadows, she realized they were on a well-worn trail. A minute later, the hairs rose at the back of her head and on her forearms. They were no longer alone. She frantically looked around for a stick and discovered they weren’t surrounded by wolves, but by Highlanders all decked out in blue paint like they were headed for a Colt’s game. Then she remembered. War Paint.

Shit.

They didn’t have time for this. They needed to get Quinn off the horse and treat his wound, not defend themselves again.

She took a deep breath and prepared to pull out her best bravado, when James gave her a little squeeze. He’d scooted close again.

“Don’t move,” James said clearly, and she knew his warning was for Quinn too.

The biggest painted man urged his horse forward until he was in their faces. He held a heavy sword in one hand, reins in the other. He glanced from James to her and back again. His expression told her nothing.

“Hello again, ye ruddy bastard,” he said.

James laughed. “Ewan, is