Page 35 of Sins of a Scot
His confusion turned to frustration as he furrowed his brow and snarled at her. “I did it fer ye, ye ungrateful woman. It had naething tae dae with wanting any limelight.”
“O’ course nae,” she snapped back sarcastically. “I just happened to have met ye as ye were parading around a tavern, lapping up the attention from all the men after winning yet another victory and putting another man on his back. But this isnae the same at all, right?”
“It was naething like the same,” Owen barked back. “Defending a woman’s honor is nae the same as fighting fer money. Dae ye think I wanted tae dae that?” He threw a gesture out toward the street.
“Aye, I dae. And if ye were honest with yersel, ye ken that ye did. ‘Tis a shame that ye’re all brawn and nay brains. Ye’re that dense, ye dinnae even realize what ye’ve done.”
“Nae, ye’re right,” he shook his head vehemently, “I dinnae. Why dinnae ye enlighten me, o’ great and wonderful one?” he snapped.
Narrowing her eyes, she looked at him like he was something she would kick to the side of the road.
“We’re supposed tae be stealthily looking fer this crystal. ‘Tis the reason I’m nae travelling with a hoard o’ guards around me. So naeone kens who I am. Remember? I’ve put me life at risk on this quest, but at least I havenae left a trail o’ me presence. But ye,” she flung out a hand, “ye decide that everyone in thedamned village needs tae ken that we’re here. So well done. Mission accomplished.”
He looked at her with wide eyes, only now seeming to understand why she was so angry. And then, he opened his mouth.
Crossing her hands over her chest, she jutted out her chin and readied herself for his next excuse, for he was bound to give one. He had put them in grave danger, and knowing the man he was, he wasn’t going to handle that too well. He would find anyone else to blame rather than taking responsibility for his actions.
But then, he curled his upper lip and side stepped away from her.
“I’m going tae the room tae clean mesel’ up,” he snarled, and immediately turning on his heels, he left her standing there, seething with so much rage, she now felt like punching something.
Everyone else had returned to the tavern, leaving Iseabail outside. She was alone apart from a couple of drunks, who stumbled across the cobbled streets together. They were singing out of tune, and, she assumed, looked to be heading home.
Taking several deep breaths, she placed her hands on her hips. Her heart thumped, and she was breathless with anger. She needed to calm down a little before she went back inside. Still, she could not get her head around Owen’s stupidity. After all thecare she had taken over the last weeks to keep herself hidden and unnoticed, it took one action from an idiot to ruin it all.
And of course, he had loved every minute. He might deny it, he might even excuse his behavior with the reasoning that he was protecting her honor. But the truth of the matter was, Owen Sinclair loved to fight. She had seen it with her own eyes on the first night they had met. What had happened earlier had had less to do with her honor, and more to do with his own enjoyment.
After a little more time passed, and her breathing was back to normal, Iseabail pulled her cloak back around her, took a deep breath, and slipped back into the tavern, her eyes flicking from side to side, watching those she passed.
Surprisingly, no one batted an eyelid in her direction. A fact for which she was grateful. The kerfuffle was over, and everyone had already moved on to whatever else caught their attention.
Small enough to slip about unnoticed, Iseabail found a table in the corner and settled herself down in a chair beside it. She wasn’t sure if Owen would come downstairs again, but at that moment in time, she could not look at him without wanting to put her hands around his throat and squeeze really hard. It would be better for her to stay where she was until she had calmed herself fully.
“That necklace he wears is precious, isnae it?” a small, croaky voice said from beside her.
Spinning to look, Iseabail saw a frail old woman sat at a table just a few feet away. Before the woman had spoken, Iseabail hadn’t even noticed her, but she was more astonished at her words.
“I beg yer pardon?” Iseabail replied.
“The crystal,” the old woman repeated. “It has powers. Just like ye.”
Iseabail’s mouth fell open, and she stared at the woman. “I’m afraid yer mistaken, madam. I dinnae ken what ye’re talking about. “
The wizened woman smiled, showing off gaps between her blackened teeth. Her face was lined with deep crevices, each one likely able to tell a different story. White frizzy hair sprung in every direction from her head, and though she appeared to be looking at Iseabail, her eyes were hardly open.
“Life is hard, isnae it, when ye have tae hide who ye are?” the old woman said. “I ken that feeling. I’ve had tae dae it all me life too.”
Iseabail regarded the woman, and then wondered if perhaps, she too, might have a gift.
“The answer is, aye. I dae,” the woman said.
Iseabail gasped. “What?”
“Ye were wondering if I have a gift.”
“How did ye dae that?” Iseabail cried.
The woman beamed another smile and inclined her head, “Because I have a gift,” she laughed lightly.
