Page 22 of Sins of a Scot
They travelled down the corridor, Owen reminding her of Eden’s powers in a low murmur. “If she discovers anything ye say tae be a lie, our plan is ruined.”
“I ken,” Iseabail said. “Believe me. It is I who kens what is at stake here more than anyone.”
Of course she did. He had witnessed her genuine distress last night when she had spoken of her father and brother’s kidnapping. Of all the things he imagined she might say, that had not been one of them. It had been surprising enough to learn that she was a noble. But everything she said after that just seemed to get worse and worse.
After he had retired the night before, Owen’s mind had replayed the whole conversation, looking for any holes in her story, but he could find none. She was either a fantastic liar, or everything she had told him had been the truth. He had sided with the latter. It all made sense. Especially when she explained the reason she had wanted to take his necklace.
He was hardly pleased that, without having to use her powers, she had managed to trick him into helping her, and yet, he had had little choice. He had been backed into a corner with no escape, and he certainly couldn’t fight his way out of this one.
They reached the family breakfast room to discover that everyone else had already arrived. Daire glared at Owen when they entered, and he had good reason. Last night, their prisoner was still safely locked in the dungeon. Now, she accompanied Owen as though they were the closest of friends.
By the time Owen and Iseabail had finished their discussion last night, it had been too late to go and speak to Daire. Though, as Owen now considered his companion’s confusion, perhaps it might have been wise to find him earlier that morning. Now, he was going to have to sit there and wonder what the devil was going on.
Eden looked up at their entrance. “Good heavens, Owen, what happened tae ye? And… I see we have a guest.”
Realizing Eden meant the state of his now bruised eye, Owen replied, “It’s a long story. And aye, I have brought someone tae meet ye all.”
At Eden’s words, his father had looked up from buttering his bread. Upon seeing Lady Mackay, Madigan immediately stood from his chair, being the gentlemen he was. Daire quickly followed suit.
“I would like tae introduce ye all tae Lady Iseabail Mackay,” Owen announced.
He watched Daire’s eyes widen even further, but he ignored the astonishment on the man’s face and continued. “Iseabail, this is me faither, Laird Madigan Sinclair, and his wife, Lady Eden Sinclair. Me aunt, Lilidh, and Daire ye have already met.”
“It is a pleasure tae meet ye all,” Iseabail said warmly.
“And ye, me lady,” Owen’s father said. “Please,” he gestured to a seat, “will ye nae join us?”
Owen pulled her a seat from the table, and Iseabail sat down. Owen sat beside her, and only then did his father and Daire sit.
“Dae tell us, Lady Mackay,” Madigan said, “tae what dae we owe this pleasure o’ a visit?”
“Actually,” Owen cut in before Iseabail had a chance to speak, “I met Lady Iseabail last night in the tavern. Well, actually, Daire and I met her in the tavern, Didnae we, Daire?”
Daire now looked bewildered that he had been brought into the conversation, and clearly not expecting it, he nearly choked on his bread. “Aye…” he spluttered. “Aye, we did.”
“Lady Iseabail is in fact, in a little bit o’ trouble, Faither.”
“She is?” Daire asked pointedly.
If Owen’s legs were long enough, he would kick at him beneath the table, but gritting his teeth, while at the same time, pinning a smile on his lips, he only gave Daire a look.
Madigan frowned and gazed at Iseabail with concern. “Dae tell us, Lady Iseabail, what trouble are ye in?”
“Well,” Iseabail began, a slight tremor in her voice, “the fact o’ the matter is, I, er, I have been robbed,” she said, casting a glance to Owen who nodded eagerly.
“Robbed?” Madigan growled. “Good lord! Who robbed ye? What did they take?”
Owen cut in again. “When I met Lady Iseabail in the tavern, she was, well, she was…” Owen struggled to keep his story as true as possible. Whatever he said, Iseabail had to be able to agree to, or Eden would pick up her lie immediately, “nearly knocked across the room by a man.”
“That’s right,” Iseabail said, nodding fervently and grasping onto the truth as tightly as Owen.
“Is that why yer face looks as it daes?” Madigan said, gesturing to the bruising and cuts.
Owen had applied witch hazel last night, and while it had helped, it had certainly not left his face free from any tell-tale signs that he had battled with someone.
“Er, well, I did have tae fight, aye,” Owen said, casting a glance at Daire, who had now sat back in his chair with his arms across his chest, listening to their story with mock interest.
“The truth is, me laird,” Iseabail said, jumping in to save Owen from having to elaborate, “I feel a little lost. Nae lost, as in, I dinnae ken where I am, o’ course. But I wasnae expecting what happened tae me, and thus, me life has now been turned upside down.”
