[Highlander Time Travel 01.0 - 03.0] The Curse of Clan Ross by L L Muir

Author:L L Muir [Muir, L L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00IM1TT24
Publisher: Green Toed Fairy
Published: 2014-08-05T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Jules walked along the road trying to enjoy the lovely day for a minute or two and ignore the hitman who held her upper arm in his grip. She needed to enjoy the fresh air—the breath she shouldn’t still be breathing. Why hadn’t he killed her already?

The smell of pines and birch trees warming in the sunlight reminded her of Star Valley, Wyoming, where she’d grown up. She imagined the smell of woodsmoke was from the campfires of hunters, and she could almost hear the sound of gun shots ringing out, echoing through the Grand Tetons that had been her backyard. She would have killed to have a shotgun in her hand at that moment. But all she had was her lucky stick.

Why hadn’t he taken it away?

If the hitter wasn’t all dressed up for a Scottish festival, it would be easy to believe they were just walking through the woods in the twenty-first century. But there was a different kind of quiet there. Was it just because it was Scotland, with everything lush and heavy with moisture? Or because it was Ancient Scotland?

The road was uneven and had been cut deeply by flooding rain. The wild growth was so brilliantly green, it looked Photoshopped. It was like God was overcompensating.

Sorry about all the rain. Here, I’ll tweak the landscape a little. It’s on Me.

The last minutes of her life could have been spent somewhere much worse, but the anticipation was killing her. She didn’t want to remind him to kill her, but she wanted to know who she should thank for her Stay of Execution.

“Why am I still alive?” She turned and watched his face, hoping she’d be able to tell if he lied. She didn’t trust her own judgment much anymore—since Gabby had gone from father-figure to cold-hearted killer in a split second.

The man hovering over her was handsome in a rugged kind of way. Since he was so tall, most of what she saw of his face was a big square chin sporting a fresh batch of red whiskers. When he glanced down at her, with those laughing eyes, she wondered if they were weapons he regularly used to charm his targets.

His hair was gorgeous and wild even though he’d tied it together at the back of his head. The loose copper ringlets looked like metal reflecting the sunlight.

She tripped on the edge of a deep-seated stone, but he caught her and helped her regain her balance. She expected his hands to be cold for some reason, but they were nice and warm.

Nice? Gah! What is wrong with me?

“Why are ye still alive? That’s a fine question,” he said, implying that she was a klutz and was lucky to have survived as long as she had.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” He cocked a brow.

“Oh. I see. You’re going to pretend like you’re not a brutal son of a bitch who could snap my neck at the drop of a hat?”

He laughed. “Aye. I suppose I could at that.

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