She grinned. “I would, if that enemy promised not to hurt my husband too much.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Jillian thought it was ridiculous, really, how stoic all the women were as they stood on the sidelines. If most of them weren’t dressed in jeans and t-shirts, you’d think it was a medieval reenactment or festival of some kind. There was a simple stock fence that edged the field that ran between the manor house and the castle, mostly to keep tourists from parking their cars there. The four of them leaned on the top rail and waited for the men to come to their senses, or to need an ambulance, whichever came first. Poor Isobelle didn’t even know about ambulances.
What worried Jillian more than a little spilled blood, however, was the danger of Montgomery Ross starting a new nightmare. If he did force Gaspar out of Isobelle’s life, his sister might do more than just haunt his dreams.
Swords in hand, the men gave a slight bow, then to Gaspar’s credit, he advanced first. It just wasn’t fair that he was weighed down by his heavy tunic. In fact…
Jillian looked at her sister and shared an idea. Then together, they put their hands around their mouths and chanted, “Take it off! Take it off,” over and over again.
Monty stood in the middle of the field and waited for Gaspar to come to him. But the yelling distracted them both until finally, Monty demanded to know what they meant.
“Tell Gaspar he can take off the tunic,” she yelled. But she wasn’t about to tell him it was the kind of thing you shouted at strippers.
Monty nodded at Gaspar. The man handed his sword to Ivar and pulled off the gray tunic, leaving him wearing a strange shirt with sleeves actually tied onto the arm holes. But that didn’t keep her attention long because the only other thing the man was wearing was an incredibly revealing pair of hose. There was no codpiece. Just a lot of…stuff…where that codpiece should be.
As one, Jillian, Juliet, and Morna turned to look at Isobelle.
Isobelle frowned. “Why do ye look at me?” But it didn’t take long for her eyes to stray back to Gaspar’s body. Her eyes widened, and she bit her lips together.
Monty actually blushed and raised his sword to point at Gaspar, but lowered it quickly. “Quinn,” he shouted. “Ye’re of a size with the man. Lend him some clothing. And for pity’s sake, show him the loo.”
Jillian couldn’t help snorting because there wasn’t a chance in hell what they’d just seen was the man’s full bladder. Juliet suppressed her laughter, but just barely. She moved next to Isobelle and put her arm around the worried and still-innocent young woman.
Morna scooted closer to Jillian. “Poor Monty,” she said.
“I know, right?”
“‘Tis just as it was that day he found me with Ivar at The Burn, aye?”
Jillian gave her sister-in-law a wink. “He’s going to catch on any minute now. Surely.”
“I pray so.”
Jillian gave the worried woman a grin.
Morna’s eyes widened and she leaned even closer. “Ye ken something. Tell me.”
“Let’s just say he’s about to have his memory refreshed.”
“Ooh. I like the sound o’ that, aye?” Then she frowned. “We canna allow him to send the Englishman back, Jillian. No matter what happens here.”
“Anything for Isobelle.”
Morna nodded and put her arm through Jillian’s. “And if the man turns out to be a monster, we send him back at the first show of fang or claw.”
While they waited for Quinn and Gaspar to return, she watched Monty as he looked the rest of them over like so many children—and he was the babysitter. He spent an especially long time frowning at Ivar while his friend smiled lovingly at Morna. And Jillian suspected the man was refreshing his memory all on his own.
Gaspar walkedfrom the manor back to the field trying to block from his mind the things he’d just seen. The loo was impressive, as he’d been promised. But the carriage he’d seen rolling down the hillside had moved along without the aid of horses! As if it floated along some unseen waterway that remained constant no matter the angle!
What had truly frightened him was a second carriage that had floatedupthe same hill!
He wished he might have been able to stay in this place long enough to discover the mechanism for that. Of course, he also would have liked to linger long enough to kiss Isobelle until she never had need of kissing again…
But that was not likely, and he prepared himself for the truth—that Isobelle would need more than just kissing and he wouldn’t be there to satisfy that need. She needed, and deserved, to be loved and cherished, to have a worthy man at her side and a hand to hold all her waking hours. To be appreciated for her wit, and to be unspeakably happy. And it was highly likely he would not be the man to supply any of it. After all, the chance was remote that Lady Ross’ instruction might aid him, even if he used it. It was hardly honorable, and therefore, unlikely that he would employ the tactic.
The one called Quinn had been quite hospitable. The manor house was his, as it happened, returned to him when his sister and her family had moved to Edinburgh. He had a nearly-grown son, although he was wed to the young woman, Juliet, the lass with the strange hair. Quinn had confided that his marriage to Juliet had taken place in that very loo, only months ago, but it was never to be discussed.
