Page 27 of Sins of a Scot
She could not deny he was a striking man. When he had saved her in the tavern, he had quite taken her breath away. But a lot had happened since then, and she was in no hurry to forget that he had locked her up in a dungeon and accused her of being a witch, even when he knew there were people with powers. Even when his own step mother was one of those people.
Perhaps he had just wanted to make certain she was no danger, but his tactics had been a little too extreme for her liking.
When they finished eating, they cleared up the remains of the food, and with Owen announcing he was going to relieve himself, he took the bones out with him to throw away.
Iseabail used the opportunity of his absence to set up a makeshift bed by laying a thin blanket on the floor, positioning a saddle bag as a pillow, and determining to use the heavy cloak she wore as a blanket when she finally lay her head down to rest.
But she, too, needed to relieve herself, and when Owen returned with more pieces of wood, she moved passed him to make her way outside.
“Dae ye want me tae come with ye?” He smirked. “It’s pretty dark out there.”
Iseabail curled her upper lip and scowled at him. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“Please yersel’.” He shrugged, making his way towards the fire with the added fuel he’d gathered. “Scream if ye need me.”
Huffing, Iseabail turned on her heels and swept out of the room, feeling anger rising at his patronizing tone. She had gotten this far without him. She was certain she could manage another ten minutes of her life without his help.
It was dark outside, but her eyes adjusted to it as she ventured a little way from the cottage. At least the rain had stopped. It would have been annoying to get soaked again, after drying off as much as she already had.
Nervously, she turned and looked over her shoulder. It was silly to think that Owen would follow her out, but that irrational part of her messed with her imagination. Of course, he was nowhere in sight, and there was no reason to follow her when he could have had his way with her inside if he were that type of man. Deriding herself for being so paranoid, Iseabail found a suitable place to do what was necessary.
When she returned, Owen had made up his own sleeping quarters exactly where she had demanded, across the room and far away from her. He was already lying down with his eyes closed, his back against the wall, and his body facing into the room. She had no doubt he was still awake. No one fell asleep that quickly. But instead of engaging with him, she moved over to her own blanket and settled herself in.
Finally managing to get herself as comfortable as she was able, under the circumstances, she finally closed her eyes.
“Good night, Lady Mackay,” Owen’s voice traveled across the room.
“Good night,” she replied.
A loud clattering noise disturbed her with such fright that she gasped.
Given the dreadful discomfort of the hard floor, Iseabail had not imagined she would sleep at all, and yet, apparently, she had fallen into slumber. Now, however, she was fully awake with her heart thumping in her breast.
Someone is in the cottage.
Rapid scrambling sounded from across the room, and suddenly, Owen was by her side.
“Dinnae worry. I’m here. I’ll nae let anything happen tae ye,” he whispered.
He crouched in front of her, protectively putting himself between her and whatever might be coming.
“Dae ye have a weapon?” she whispered, grabbing the dirk she had tucked down her sock.
“’Tis in me hand already,” he murmured.
She had rarely drawn her knife in all her travels. There had never been a necessity. Even now, with the fear rippling through her, she knew she could compel the intruder to stop in their tracks. And yet, the terror remained.
They both stayed perfectly still, their eyes focused on the door, waiting for whomever might enter. But after several minutes and little sound, Iseabail was beginning to wonder if she hadn’t been dreaming.
Clearly nae, if the sound woke Owen as well.
And yet, if someone had entered the tiny house, where were they and what were they doing?
“Maybe we should go and check?” Iseabail suggested.
“I will go and check. Ye stay right here,” he said, pushing himself to a standing crouch.
But Iseabail was not so easily ordered about, and scrambling to her feet, she was about to follow when Owen stopped dead in his tracks and remained perfectly still.
