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“Y e ready for this?” Alexander asked, rubbing his hands together as they approached Theodore’s pub. It was housed in a blockade of side-by-side dwellings. White plaster covered the facade. A black iron sign swung creakily in the breeze.

The Toad’s Well.

Interesting name, Gunn thought as he pushed open the door and walked inside his friends close on his heels.

For a moment, he just stood in the entry, assessing the pub.

The space was small. A bar with three stools was straight in front of him, on the opposite wall.

Five tables filled the floor space. Dark wooden tables, with matching wooden chairs.

They looked uncomfortable and for some reason, Gunn found that appealing. It was bad enough Theodore funded all of this with Gunn’s coin. It would be even worse if it was more comfortable than the Thistle & Pig.

“Gentlemen. Have a seat where ye please. What can I get ye?”

Gunn looked around, but didn’t see Theodore in sight. The barkeep wasn’t anyone he recognized either. But he had a hunch.

“We’ll take your best whisky.” The man went to turn away and Gunn called him back. “No’ the one on your shelf o’er there.” He nodded toward the bar. “The best one ye have. Ye probably house it in the back, I’d say.”

The man’s eyes lit up and he bowed. “Indeed, sir. Let me fetch your request.”

“What are ye doing?” Alexander asked as he watched the man disappear through the door to the back.”

“I would lay money down to say that their best whisky is the one that has been disappearing from my own bar.”

“Ah.” Malcolm sighed. “Good assumption. I’d say ye are more than likely correct.”

The door swung open, and Gunn sneered. His hunch had been correct. But even better was a pale-faced Theodore who was bringing out the bottle.

“G-g-gunn,” he stuttered. Then he noticed the others. “Your graces. My lords.” He bowed nervously.

Alexander pulled out the chair beside him, patting the seat. “Theodore. Come. Sit and have a drink with us.”

Theodore shook his head. “Och, I dinna think that’s such a good idea. I’ve work—”

“Sit down,” Nicholas boomed. For someone who was normally so quiet, he could be deathly terrifying.

Theodore dropped into the chair, all color drained from his face. He shakily set the bottle of whisky—Gunn’s whisky—on the table.

His barkeep exited, and his brows furrowed when he saw Theodore. He puffed his chest out and approached the table. “Is there a problem?”

Gunn stood, a fierce look on his face, and the man’s shoulders rounded. “Ye can leave. We’ve got business with Theodore that doesna concern ye.”

“Boss?” He looked at Theodore who looked like he was about to faint.

Clearing his throat, he jutted his chin out. “All is well. I’m closing early.”

The man looked suspiciously at the men sitting at the table, his eyes darting from them to Theodore, and back again. Then back to Gunn.

With clenched fists, Gunn took a step forward, and it spurred the barkeep into action. He scooted out the door, flipping the open sign over as he left.

“Now that we’re alone,” Gunn drawled, sitting down. He picked up the bottle of whisky. ’Tis a fine bottle of whisky. Where’er did ye procure it from I wonder.”

“I-I can explain.”

“Can ye now?” Gunn leaned on the table, eyes narrowed. “All this time, ye led me to believe that there was something wrong with my business, when it was all your doing.”

Theodore put his hands up, shaking his head. “Nay. Nay, that is no’ true. Business dried up. No one was coming anymore.”

Gunn slammed his fist on the table, causing the bottle to jump, along with Theodore. “Because ye spread word about town that my pub and inn were rat-infested and I was watering down the liquor.”

Theodore went to say something, but slammed his mouth shut when he saw the menacing look on Gunn’s face.

“How long?” Gunn asked, his voice low.

“Pardon?”

Flanked by Nicholas on one side and Alexander on the other, Theodore looked like a frightened lad.

“How long have ye been stealing from me? Doona e’en try to lie about it. I ken, I just want to ken if ye’ll confess to it.”

“I, no’, er.” He gulped air like a fish out of water. “No’ long.”

Gunn felt his anger rise. “I told ye no’ to lie to me.” He grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, hauling him to his feet, so they were nose to nose. “I trusted ye. And as soon as I left, ye started pilfering my coffers.”

The man was shaking under Gunn’s fists holding him upright. “That is no’ true.”

Gunn pushed him away with such force that he stumbled back into the table in back of him. He clutched the back of the chair that nearly toppled over for balance and shook his head. “Ye’ve no proof,” he spat.

“Nay?” Gunn questioned. He retrieved the list of transactions that Jocelyn had uncovered and threw the papers at Theodore. “’Tis all right there.”

Theodore picked up the papers, his eyes glancing over the amounts, his eyes round in surprise. “Ye ne’er review your books. How?” Then his brows raised as it dawned on him. “’Twas that lassie, wasna it? She put ye up to it. She wanted the money for herself. I warned her to mind her business.”

In an instant, Gunn’s fist met Theodore’s jaw, a disgusting crack rent through the air and the man howled in pain.

“Dinna e’er, and I mean, e’er mention Jocelyn when ye speak. More importantly, dinna try to place the blame on her for your deception.”

Gunn backed off, walking around the pub, taking it all in while Theodore whimpered on the floor.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. Since I have funded most of this establishment, the deed will be signed o’er to me.”

Theodore spat blood on the floor. “I willna.”

Gunn spun in his direction, approached him. “Nay? Then mayhap I shall go to the authorities and give them the evidence I have uncovered regarding your endeavors. I am certain debtors’ prison will do ye some good.”

“Ye wouldna,” Theodore said in disbelief, his words distorted.

“Nay?” Gunn circled him, as if he were a lion stalking his prey. “Those are your choices. Your only choices.” He pulled his watch from his pocket and checked the time. “Ye have sixty seconds to make your decision. The clock is ticking. Will it be option A or B?”

Nicholas pulled him up off the floor and roughly sat him down in the chair at the table.

“All right!” Theodore threw his hands up. “Keep your hands off me. Your grace,” he added snidely.

“What is your decision?” Gunn asked.

Theodore’s face was swelling, and Gunn was pretty sure he’d broken the man’s jaw.

“Well?” He kicked the leg of his chair, causing Theodore to jump.

“What do ye think? I canna go to prison. I will sign it o’er.”

“Where’s the deed?” Malcolm asked, pushing back from the table. “We’ll settle this today.”

Theodore glowered at him but mumbled. “It’s in the back room. Right side desk drawer.”

Malcolm left to go find the paper.

“Once ye’ve signed it, ye will leave this place at once and ne’er step in it or in the Thistle & Pig again. I dinna want to see ye in town again. I dinna care where ye go, but ’twill no’ be here. Understood?”

Nicholas leaned into Theodore, leering at him, and Theodore shrank back, nodding his head. “I got it. Ye willna see hide nor hair of me again.”

Gunn smiled, clapping him on the back.

Malcolm returned with the deed, ink and quill. “Sign it o’er,” he demanded, pointing to where Theodore needed to sign.

After scrawling his signature across the page, Nicholas and Alexander added theirs to make it official.

“Pleasure doing business with ye,” Gunn snapped sarcastically, ignoring the glare Theodore threw his way. “Now, get the fuck out of my pub.”

Malcolm and Nicholas hauled Theodore to his feet, dragging him to the door, where they roughly tossed him out on his arse.

Finlay nodded, looking around. “That went smoothly. Nice job.” He popped the top off the whisky, and Alexander grabbed glasses from the bar, balancing them as he carried them to the table. “Ye ken, ’tis no’ too bad of place. Ye can make it profitable.”

“Now that I ken why e’erything was going to shite before and I’ve eliminated the problem, I’ve nay doubt.”

They all picked up a glass, holding them in the air and clinking them together.

“Slaintè!”

“Ye ken,” Gunn said after they each emptied their glass, “that was fun. Reminded me of the old days.”

Finlay scoffed. “Ye watch your mouth. Our wives will have our arses if we make this type of thing a habit.”

Our wives.

Gunn thought about Joss. It can’t happen now for obvious reasons, but he couldn’t wait to make her his wife.

*

After a fun game of bridge and an early dinner since the men hadn’t arrived back home yet, all the ladies decided to go their separate ways and get ready for the evening with their families.

Jocelyn climbed the stairs up to her and Gunn’s rooms. They were the only ones on this floor. Louise was waiting for her when she walked into her room.

“I can help ye dress for the night, my lady,” she offered, and Jocelyn accepted it.

She enjoyed the help. Appreciated it even. The small talk they would share whilst Louise brushed her hair to a shine was nice.

Once she’d bid her good night and left the room, Jocelyn retrieved her mother’s diary from the top drawer of her dresser and sat on the red-cushioned window seat.

The huge, bowed window overlooked the garden that led out to the sea.

She could see the white caps of the waves crashing onto shore.

If she listened closely she could hear them as well.

Opening the diary, she ran her fingers over the pages her mother had written. It was her comfort, this book. A reminder of how life could be.

Should be.

She was getting a glimpse of that now. Seeing what her mother had experienced with her father. The happiness that two people who truly cared and loved each other could experience.

Looking out the window, she wondered when Gunn would return. How things went. If they went as planned or if things went awry and that was why he was late. She hoped all was well.

She couldn’t imagine any scenario where the five men didn’t come out victorious, but there was always a chance.

Bringing her thumb to her mouth, she nibbled at her cuticles nervously. She didn’t want to sleep in here tonight. Alone.

Setting the diary aside, she sat up, an idea forming in her head. But was she daring enough to see it through?

Aye, as Gunn would say, she was.

Cinching the belt of her robe tighter around her waist, she slipped her feet into her slippers and crept over to the door. Pulling it open, she stuck her head out into the hall, looking both ways to see if anyone was about.

The corridor was empty. Not surprising seeing how it was only she and Gunn housed on this floor. And after Louise finished helping her get ready for bed, she would return to the servants’ quarters below stairs.

Quietly, she snuck from her room and crept over to Gunn’s door. She rested her ear upon it to see if she could hear any noise inside to make her aware that he’d returned. There wasn’t any.

Not surprising. She was almost positive that he would have inquired after her upon his return.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and entered the room, closing the door softly behind her. The lanterns had been lit, casting long shadows on the papered blue walls. The fire blazed, adding a warm, cozy feel to the room.

With him not here, she took the time to study his living space. She hadn’t been able to see much of it last night. She’d had many more important things to discover. Her body heated at the thought. Strong frissons ran up her arms.

Large, upholstered chairs sat on each side of the fireplace, a table betwixt them. There were books stacked there. She approached and read the titles, but they were not familiar to her.

A painting of what appeared to be the gardens hung on one wall, the sea just visible at the top of the painting. She studied the piece. It was done well. She read the script in the lower corner. Burnett, signed with a big sweeping B.

Had Gunn painted this? He surprised her more and more every day.

At the sideboard, a bottle of whisky and a carafe of wine with glasses were on a tray of silver.

There was a wardrobe, and a dresser on the opposite wall.

The postered bed was flanked by two tables, the intricate designs the same as carved into the bed. A thick blue duvet covered the mattress, with a darker blue blanket folded at the foot. Blue, maroon, and cream pillows decorated the head of the bed.

In front of it, a cushioned bench sat where she pictured Gunn sitting to remove his boots after a long day of work.

She moved to the bed, taking the decorative pillows off and piling them on one of the chairs. Then she slipped off her robe, leaving her only in her thin nightdress, the cool air pimpling her skin. Drawing back the duvet, she slid into bed, settling onto the pillow, and covering herself up.

Suddenly nervous, she wondered if instead of enjoying the surprise, Gunn may be angry with her. Worrying her lip, she ran through different scenarios in her mind.

As more time passed, she wondered if mayhap this was a bad idea. Should she return to her room? But then she thought about Gunn coming to find her this morning after she’d snuck back to her own room.

She got the feeling that he had wanted to wake up with her beside him.

She wanted that, too.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to stay put, and eagerly awaited his return.

Some time had passed, a lot actually, and her eyes were growing heavy. She was wondering if he was going to return tonight, when she heard a knock on the door of her room.

He’d returned!

Her heart skipped a beat, and her pulse quickened.

“Joss?” She heard him call gently.

She could call out. Alert him to where she was, but she wanted to surprise him. She couldn’t give herself away, so she waited.

He called out one more time, and when she didn’t answer, she heard his footsteps approach.

Holding her breath, she wet her lips as the door swung open.

His eyes clashed with hers the moment Gunn entered the room, flaring wide, a devilish smile on his face.