Page 51 of Sins of a Scot
The man jerked his head and then glared at Owen, but even as the lass struggled to free herself, the man did not release his grip.
Owen hurried his pace as the man turned and began walking away. Breaking into a run, he was eager to catch him before they disappeared from his sight. The girl clearly looked terrified, and Owen’s stomach churned as he thought about the young lass he had saved only a couple of months before.
The man continued to flee with the girl stumbling behind him, but trying to drag her along only slowed him down, and Owen easily closed the gap between them. Now only a few feet away, he called out.
“I’m talking tae ye,” he spat at the man’s retreating back. “Let go o’ her. It’s clear as day she doesnae want tae go with ye.”
But the man seemed determined, and perhaps, more than a little drunk.
“Bugger off. This isnae any o’ yer business,” he spat back over his shoulder
“I’m about tae make it me business,” Owen barked, keeping pace with the man. “Let her go ‘afore I make ye regret it.”
As though by ignoring him Owen might suddenly disappear, the man continued on, but Owen was growing tired of the chase, and reaching a long arm forward, he grabbed the man’s shoulder and spun him around.
The girl spun with him, nearly tumbling to her feet.
“Get away from us. This is me lass. Go and get yer own,” the man slurred.
“Are ye all right?” Owen said, looking at the trembling girl.
She shook her head, evidently too terrified to speak.
“Let her go now. It’s clear she isnae in agreement tae going with ye.”
The man took two long, drunkenly confident strides toward Owen, even though Owen stood head and shoulders above him.
“Make me,” he spat, his breath stinking of ale.
Owen clenched a fist and readied himself to throw a mighty punch. This piece of scum needed to be taught a lesson, and clearly, talking to him wasn’t working. Behind him, he heard thudding footsteps approach, and a second later, Iseabail was by his side.
“Owen,” she hissed, “this isnae the way.
The man sneered. “Och, it looks like ye need tae listen tae yer woman. Clearly, she controls what ye dae.”
Iseabail spun her head to look at him, and scowling as she spoke her words, she said, “Let go o’ the lass this instant.”
The man blinked at her, and immediately released his grip on the girl.
Iseabail looked at the frightened lass and nodded. “Go. Go now, and find yer family.”
Without hesitation, the girl turned on her heels and ran back to the crowd of villagers. Iseabail then turned her attention back to the drunk.
“And ye, ye vile man. Ye go home and sleep it off. Ye’ll forget about the lass, and ye’ll forget ye ever met us. Go. Be on yer way.”
The man blinked again, and without a word, he turned away from them, heading out of the field, and in the direction of the village.
Only when he was far enough away to satisfy her, did Iseabail turn to look at Owen. She shook her head in disbelief. “God, ‘tis like trouble comes out tae find ye.”
Owen shrugged, and feeling the need to defend himself, he said, “What did ye want me tae dae? The lass was clearly in trouble. I couldnae just ignore it.”
“Aye, I ken that,” she sighed.
They walked back to where they had left their tankards, and, finding a thick log that had long been cut down, they settled themselves onto it. While Iseabail watched the celebrations fromafar, intrigued at what was going on, Owen was far too busy gazing at her.
Smiling, but not moving the direction of her gaze, she said, “Ye’re going tae bore a hole intae me skull if ye keep staring at me. What troubles ye?”
Owen shook his head. “Naething troubles me. In fact, I’ve been thinking about yer gift.”
