Going Back for Romeo by L.L. Muir

Author:L.L. Muir
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: highlanderromancescottishtime travel humor paranormal medieval back in time castles love adventure witches curses torque buried alive prophecy tomb ghosts ghostbusters village laird master
Publisher: L.L. Muir

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

It had to be midnight, but thankfully, Jilly felt recovered from her little adventure in the tomb. Time travel, it seemed, did not come with jet lag.

Rumaging silently through trunks with only the light of one candle to help her, it took a long time for Jillian to find what she was looking for. Finally, one square of wool plaid unfolded into something besides yards of material.

A dress. Of sorts. Remembering the blue gowns of the Muir sisters, she realized she needed something to wear beneath it and her own t-shirt wouldn’t do, so she kept digging.

If the man owned a chest of drawers he could keep this crap better organized. Two old slippers were found, but not together, of course. In fact, they’d been in two different trunks.

Didn’t any women clean up in here?

Judging from the stiffness of the skirt, whoever wore this one did so long ago. She would have liked to see if Isobelle had been her size, but in all likelihood a grumpy ogre of a man currently inhabited the sister’s room, one who would get even grumpier if he caught her planning her escape. The old stuff would have to do.

The slippers fit only because they stretched. If Cinderella would have lived in this century, she would have lost her prince as it looked like this woman’s feet couldn’t have been bigger than a five. A five that stretched to an eight, thank goodness.

No undergarments were found. No blouse-like concoction to wear beneath the dress that was not only sleeveless, but open from shoulder to waist. Her t-shirt would have to do after all, but thankfully, she had also found a brown cloak with a hood. She could conceal the flaws of her costume nicely.

No mirror. Of course not. It was probably best the man not know how incredible he looked. But then again, he probably did know. Widow What’s-her-face probably told him all the time.

Well, she could have him. Jillian, as proxy for Isobelle’s ghost, had been invited to leave, so that was what she was doing. She hoped he and his Sorcha would be very happy together.

But they wouldn’t be, would they?

She remembered him blaming her for ruining his wedding, but she had never asked how. He didn’t seem to be too broken up about it, after all. And if he really believed women were interchangeable, she certainly wouldn’t be the cause of his melancholy. Something much more than a broken heart was headed his way and she pitied him.

A kiss and a threat in the same breath? I don’t think so.

There was nothing she could do about it -- nothing she should do about it. Even if she had never seen a Micheal J. Fox movie, she would know, somehow, that she shouldn’t mess with history.

Montgomery Constantine would have to be sad. It was his destiny.

But Ivar and Morna had disappeared from history’s pages. Ivar had no sons, no daughters. Never married, never led his clan in battle or anything else, or so the modern sisters had told her.

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