Page 3 of Sins of a Scot
She did appear genuine, but Owen wanted to make sure she did as she promised. “Very well. But when I pass through this wayagain in a month, if I discover that ye havenae done so, or that any harm has come tae that child, I swear, I’ll cause ye more harm than ye want tae imagine.”
“I swear, sir. Truly, I will dae as I have promised,” she said, pressing her hand upon her heart.
Satisfied with her conviction, and hoping the fear he had instilled in her would be an added motivation, Owen bid farewell to Catherine, and made his way back to Clan Sinclair.
It was a few weeks later when he discovered he was a wanted man.
Word had travelled across the country, and he was told, by a man he trusted unconditionally, that men from the east were after him. There was now a bounty on his head, though the men did not actually know who he was. He also discovered that the three men he had met where only a small number of a much larger gang.
The warning had gone from village to village. Owen either paid his dues, or they’d take what he owed them with his life. He could ask his father for the coin, but Owen was a man in his own right, and as he had managed to get himself into this mess, it was he who needed to get himself out.
Riding through a village one day, he had stopped into a tavern for a drink. Always alert, he had heard some men discussing a secret fight being held in that tavern that very night. But it wasn’t the fighting that particularly interested him. His earsdid prick up when he heard the amount of money the winning fighter would receive.
Wracking his brain and wondering how he was supposed to raise the money he needed to pay this gang, it was as though the gods had led him to this very tavern to give him his answer. He was a fine fighter, and he was certain, he could win. If he could win one, he could certainly win ten, for that was how many he would have to win to gather the money he needed.
As he ordered another pint, he made his way over to these men. It was time he made their acquaintance.
CHAPTER ONE
February 1690. The Golden Goose tavern, Sinclair lands…
Tucking a wayward strand of her chestnut hair back into the hood of her dark green cloak, Lady Iseabail Mackay pushed her way through the crowd of people.The Golden Goosewas far busier than a tavern ought to be, given the size of the village. Iseabail continued on, as alert as she could be with the many bodies that surrounded her, her eyes flitting from one person to the next.
The bodhran thumped out a fast beat, accompanied by the tin whistle and the fiddle, playing music that had many of the patrons dancing and jumping, making the wooden floorboards beneath her vibrate with the movement. With a drink in hand, she finally found a small unoccupied space, and managed to take a sip of her ale.
No more than a minute later, Iseabail was approached by a burly man, his eyes set firmly upon her while sporting a wide grin.
Och, fer the love o’ God, can I nae get a minute’s peace?
She was a beautiful woman, there was little she could do about that. Her mother had been beautiful too, before she had died giving birth to her younger sister, who unfortunately had not survived either. Iseabail had only been five years old at the time, but she still remembered her mother’s stunning looks.
For the longest time, she had thought her mother was a princess. She had told her that she, too, would grow up to be a beautiful lass, but she had warned her. “Beauty can be a delight, Issy, but it can also be a curse.”
Of course, Iseabail had not understood what her mother had been referring to at such a young age. But now, as a lass who had experienced far too much unwarranted attention, her mother’s words made a lot more sense.
“And what’s a lovely lass like ye doing here all by yersel’?” the burly man asked, once he came to stand beside her.
“Drinking,” Iseabail replied curtly.And too busy looking fer something far more important than a man like ye.
“Let me buy ye another,” the man offered, not taking the hint by her overly rude behavior.
Iseabail lifted her hardly touched tankard. “I’m fine, thanks. I dinnae need another.”
“Nae yet,” the man drawled, inching a little closer. “But the night is still young,” he smirked.
Aye. Unlike ye.
“Ye really want tae ken what I’m doing here?” Iseabail growled, turning to face him.
Her change of tactics surprised him a little, but he shrugged and nodded. “Aye.”
“Fine. Then I’ll tell ye. I am Lady Iseabail Mackay. Me faither is Laird Hamilton Mackay. Me older braither is Keane Mackay. At this very moment, me faither and braither are being held against their will by Laird Dylan Sutherland because he wants me tae marry him. He says our marriage will end the feud that’s been going on fer three generations between our clans, but we ken that isnae true.”
The man now appeared a little perturbed at her words, but Iseabail did not care, and continued.
“Laird Sutherland is now blackmailing me. I must find an enchanted crystal and bring it back tae him. Ridiculous, right? When I have done that, and agree tae marry him, he will release me faither and braither.”
The smirk had long fallen from the burly man’s face, and he now looked at her with wide eyes. At the same time, he began taking a step back, clearly rattled by her confession.
