Page 7 of Sins of a Scot
When she had tied it around his neck, she had smiled and said, “This will protect ye, Owen. Always wear it, fer then, naeone can use their powers on ye.”
“Even ye?” Owen had joked.
She had smiled up at him. “Even me.”
“So, I can lie tae ye all I like now, and ye’ll never ken,” he had quipped back jokingly.
Eden had raised her eyebrows and given him a knowing look. “I dinnae need me powers tae ken when ye are lying tae me, Owen. I can see it in yer eyes.”
Owen had laughed and then wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug. “Thank ye. I promise, I will never tak’ it off.”
“Good.”
Eden had given Madigan a piece of the same crystal, as well as her father. She wanted the men closest to her to be protected, and her kindness had made Owen feel more than special. She was a good lass, and he was grateful that his father had met such a woman to love him.
The innkeeper had just placed another two tankards in front of himself and Daire, when Owen sensed someone approaching from his left. Turning to look, he noticed the beautiful woman he had saved from being crushed earlier.
“Ye made it out o’ there safely, I see,” he said with a grin.
“I did.” She smiled, the action lighting up her ocean green eyes, and making her even more alluring. “I thought I ought tae come over and thank ye.” She then turned to Daire with a smile. “Nice tae meet ye, too. I see that ye need tae go tae the innkeeper and get yersel’ another drink.”
Daire blinked and then stood. “Aye. I dae, ye are right.”
Before Owen had a chance to protest, for two full tankards stood on the bar beside them, Daire had moved past him and headed away down the bar.
The woman sat on the stool Daire had just vacated, and placing her hand on his, she gazed into his eyes. “I must also congratulate ye on yer win. Ye fought very well.”
“Thank ye,” Owen replied, still wondering what had just happened.
“Ye are very strong,” the woman continued. “I’m sure ye are a great warrior.”
“I’ve had me moments,” Owen replied, smiling as he enjoyed her attention. She truly was a stunningly beautiful woman. Not that he had any problems attracting attention from the lasses, but he could not compare any others to the beauty this woman possessed. “May I ask yer name?”
“I’m Soirsche,” she replied. “And now, ye must tell me yer name.”
“Me name is…” Owen hesitated. “They call me Mask.”
A strange look of excitement flickered across her face, which was the second unusual thing that had happened in less than five minutes.
“Aye,” she smiled, “I can see why. Dae ye ever take it off? I mean, dae ye wear it fereverythingye dae?”
Her flirtatious question was brazen, and yet, Owen couldn’t help feeling aroused by it. Nor could he help but wonder what thislass was like beneath her cloak, what those full lips would feel like on his, what her body might feel like beneath his hands.
“That depends,” he growled.
She smiled seductively and then stood up slowly. “Ye must excuse me. It’s very warm and crowded in here.” She fanned her face with a slender hand. “I’d like tae go out fer some fresh air.”
“Then I’ll join ye,” Owen said. “A lass shouldnae be wandering about at night on her own.” As he stood, excitement grew in his gut, for he was certain her obvious invitation involved far more than fresh air.
Pushing through the crowd, he followed her through the main door until they were both outside, but Iseabail did not stop there. She walked around the side of the tavern, where it was far quieter and more private.
Eventually, she came to a stop beside the wall, and taking his hand, she pulled him in closer. “I would like tae ken what ye look like. Will ye nae take the mask off fer me?” she breathed.
Owen shook his head, pulled the mask just above his mouth, and then leaned in and kissed her. She tasted sweet, and her lips were as soft as he imagined they would be. His hand roved beneath the cloak, finding the fine cloth of her blouse, and her firm bosom beneath it. Softly, he brushed his fingers across her hardening nipple, causing her to gasp.
He could feel her hands moving up his chest. They were roving about, but not in any way he had experienced before. In fact, as he continued to kiss her, he was certain she was reaching for something. As her fingers travelled further and further, he realized what she was after. His necklace.
Just as her fingers wrapped around it, Owen reached for his dirk, and in a swift movement, he stepped back from her, spun her around until her back slammed against his chest, and pressed the cold blade against her throat.
