Page 50 of Sins of a Scot
“Iseabail slept fer a couple of hours earlier, Thomas,” Owen said. “Is that normal?”
While Iseabail looked a little surprised at Owen’s question, Thomas nodded. “Perfectly normal. Like I said tae ye earlier in the cottage, while ye did a tremendous job o’ getting most o’ the poison out, there will still have been some venom that managed tae get intae her blood.”
Thomas then looked at Iseabail. “Did ye feel better after yer sleep?”
“I did,” Iseabail nodded.
“Good. It was yer body’s way o’ getting rid o’ what shouldnae have been there. But ye’ll make a full recovery.”
“Dae ye have any more tricks up yer sleeve, Thomas?” Iseabail smiled. “Ye’re a healer, ye’re a musician. What else are ye hiding from us?”
Thomas looked from left to right, pretending to be conspiratorial. With a sly grin, he lowered his voice and murmured, “Well, I dae make a mean Elderberry wine.”
Iseabail burst into laughter at his antics, and Owen, though a little distracted by his body’s reaction to the sound, also let out a low chuckle.
“Now, come.” Thomas waved at them both. “Ye must dance.”
Somehow, Owen and Iseabail ended up in the middle of the wooden platform, and with much encouragement, seemed to take center stage as the music began.
After her nervous laughter settled down, Iseabail gazed up at Owen who slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her in closer. She smelled of rose petals and jasmine, and only in that moment did he realize that he had not been this close to herbefore. Perhaps for a second or two when lifting her down off her mare, but not under these conditions.
“Are ye ready?” he said, his voice sounding a little deeper than normal.
“Nae really.” Iseabail grinned back. “But let’s give it a go.”
Owen nodded, and when the music started, they danced a jig together. He twirled and spun her, bringing her back to him each time. The crowd whooped and yelled over the music, encouraging them on with delighted cries. The smile Iseabail wore lit up her face, and light laughter fell from her lips. For the entire dance, Owen could not take his eyes off her, and by the time others had joined them on the dance floor, Iseabail was gazing back up at him tenderly.
They continued until the song ended, and then, breathless and giddy, Owen brought her back into his arms, and gazed down at her. While all around them were clapping and whooping, he could only look at her tenderly.
Never could he have imagined, that night in his bedroom when Iseabail blackmailed him to go on this quest with her, that he would see her in any other light than a villain. He had imprisoned her, thinking her a threat. Now, the only threat she posed was to his heart.
He had spent a lifetime enjoying the freedom of carefree lasses who didn’t want or need him to be anything other than a bit of fun. For Iseabail, he had been quite the opposite. She hadneeded him for anything but fun, and yet, no longer bound by her blackmail, Owen found himself wanting so much more than to be the man who could hold a powerful crystal.
He suspected, as she gazed back at him, both of them lost in the moment, that this quest had morphed into something she had not expected either. Serious as death itself at the beginning, she had slowly shown parts of herself to him that she had kept well-hidden before.
Taking her hand in his, he wrapped his thick fingers around her dainty ones, even that simple touch evoking stirrings within him. Her slightly parted lips did little to help either, for all he wanted to do was plunge down on them with his own.
I’ll bet she tastes as sweet as honey.
His groin twitched at the thought of tasting her, and before he allowed himself to get carried away, he broke the moment. This was neither the time nor the place.
“Let’s go and get a drink,” he murmured.
“Aye,” Iseabail breathed.
After grabbing their tankards, they walked a little distance from everyone else. Selfishly, he wanted her all to himself, and though the night was fun and filled with lots of laughter, his feelings were far deeper than mere entertainment. He was about to turnand speak to her, when, from the corner of his eye, he noticed something that looked out of place.
Turning to see better, Owen frowned at what appeared to be a squabble, but the longer he watched the scene unfold, the clearer things became.
“What is it?” Iseabail asked, clearly now curious why he had stopped in his tracks.
“Something is wrong,” he replied a little absently.
He continued to watch as a much older man seemed to be encouraging a much younger lass to go with him. It was clear, as she shook her head and tried to move away from him, that the lass wanted nothing to do with him.
But the man was not taking no for an answer, and a second later, he lunged forward and grabbed the girl by the wrist, pulling her toward him. That was all Owen needed to see, and placing his tankard on the ground, he began taking long strides toward them.
“Hey,” Owen called out. “Hey, ye.”
