A Forbidden Night with a Scot (Sins in a Kilt #1)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

L eaving the dungeons, Owen made his way back to the main castle. He could not help but smile at his interaction with the prisoner, for Iseabail was as stubborn as she was beautiful. He had to admit it was difficult to feel animosity toward her, with her striking looks, and yet it was obvious that beneath the gorgeous exterior lay something far more than an ordinary lass.

He was determined to get to the bottom of her actions, no matter how long it took. If she didn’t want to talk, she could enjoy the accommodations the dungeons provided for as long as her stubborn little head would let her.

He had been trying to make sense of what had happened since they had returned, but he simply could not get his mind around it. She had denied it, but maybe she was a witch. She had certainly cast some sort of spell on Daire. The man was no fool.

In fact, his integrity far surpassed that of any other man he knew, apart from his father. He was certainly not a man who was easily led, and yet, like a child, he had obeyed Iseabail without question. It was even more worrying that he could hardly remember the incident, nor the reason he had so compliantly done as she had directed.

Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

Continuing down the castle corridors, he had considered that she might be a spy, sent by the men who were hunting him. The evil gang used women for many nefarious actions, usually against the lass’s will. Perhaps Iseabail was being blackmailed to do their bidding.

And ye’ve led her right tae yer faither’s castle!

Owen then shook his head. “Nay, that cannae be right,” he muttered to himself as he ascended the wide staircase. “They would hardly send her just tae steal me necklace.”

He was determined that it was the stone around his neck she had been after. She had lured him outside so they could be alone, like the seductress that she was, only to steal something that was of no real monetary value. Or at least, he didn’t think it was. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he ought to speak to Eden and find out whether this stone was indeed, valuable.

But even as he neared his father’s study, it still didn’t add up. In fact, he was certain she was not unlike Eden. She had to be. How else had she made Daire leave his side?

He found Daire where he had left him, drink in hand, lounging beside the fire in his father’s study.

“Well, has she found her tongue yet?” Daire said, as Owen walked in and headed to the dresser.

He poured himself a fresh drink, and then joined Daire at the fire place.

“Nay. She’s as stubborn now as she was earlier. She has spirit, I’ll give her that. But there are too many questions and nae enough answers.”

His father and Eden had retired to their bedchamber before Owen and Daire had arrived back from the tavern. Something Owen was more than grateful for. He still had a few cuts and bruises he would need to tend to before he saw his father. More than that, he didn’t want Madigan knowing about Iseabail until he had figured out who she was and what she was up to.

Daire had been right earlier. Madigan was no fool. He would see through any lies Owen tried to feed him. His father had always been a rather discerning man. He did not particularly approve of Owen’s lifestyle, for he was a self-declared rake and proud of it, but nor could he do much about it. Owen was a man in his own right. A man of four and twenty who led his own life anyway he chose.

“I still think ye’re looking too deeply intae this, Owen. It was a lass at a tavern who saw an opportunity. She flirted, ye flirted back, she made her move.”

“Aye, and if I hadnae witnessed ye being put under some sort o’ spell, I could believe that. But I did.” Owen looked his companion in the eye. “Yer drink was right there beside us, Daire. Think about it. I can hardly get ye tae dae anything ye dinnae want tae, but that lass made ye go and buy another drink,” Owen said determinedly.

“I think there is a bigger picture here that needs yer attention. In fact, I cannae believe that ye seem more concerned with some strange lass than ye are about the men who are trying tae kill ye.”

Owen gave him a steady look, and then smirked. “Are ye worried about me murder, or the fact ye’ll have tae tell me faither the truth when they find me cold, dead corpse?”

Daire clearly did not find this amusing. “I’ve told ye already how I feel,” he growled. “I despise having tae sneak around behind Madigan’s back. But ye have me wrong, Owen. If I didnae care what happened tae ye, I’d hardly be helping ye, would I? These are nae a few thugs from the tavern we’re talking about. These are serious men.”

“Dae ye think I dinnae ken that?” Owen huffed, falling back into his chair.

The flickering flames of the fire drew his eye, and gazing into it, he let the dancing slivers transfix him. For the most part, he stayed out of trouble. In fact, the most trouble he had ever gotten himself into was making sure one lass he had been with did not meet another he had wooed.

But this situation had been different. He had only been trying to help the lass. Catherine had looked frail, ill, and half starved. God only knows what they were going to do with her, though he had a good idea. It had made him feel sick to his stomach, which was the very reason he had made such a drastic decision. It’s not every day a man purchases a lass, only to let her go free.

Of course, he had not simply abandoned her. Instead, he had taken her miles from the men, booked a room at a tavern, bought her clothes that actually covered her body, throwing away the rags she had been dressed in, and made sure she had eaten a decent meal every day for four days. He had also found the village healer, who had dressed the wounds on her frail body.

The healer, a kind old woman, had then taken Catherine under her care until she was fit to go and find the family she had been stolen from several years before. It was only a few weeks later that Owen had discovered he was a wanted man.

He had made a promise that he could not keep, and now, he was paying for it. It had been the spur of the moment thing. The truth was that, at the time, he had had no idea how dangerous those men were. He had only discovered that after the fact, which was the very reason he was doing his utmost to garner the money owed.

“What I suppose I’m trying tae say, Owen, is that we already have one mess tae deal with. Ye’ve only thrown fuel on the fire bringing that lass here. If yer faither discovers there’s a prisoner being held under the foundations o’ this castle, he’ll want tae ken why. Then he’ll want tae question her. She only needs tae mention the fact that she saw ye fighting, and our deceit is blown wide open. Then, how am I supposed tae face yer faither?”

Daire had a point. Maybe he had acted too hastily. It was a rare thing for a woman to get one up on him. She had tricked him, and he had fallen for it. Maybe, with his ego bruised for being such a fool, his pride had gotten the better of him.

Well, that wouldnae be a first.

The lass had tried to steal from him, but he could have just let her go. Then again, it wasn’t the theft that was irking him as much as what she had done to Daire. He returned to the idea that this lass had powers. Before Eden had walked into the Sinclair family, he had lived many years of his life having no idea that there were people out there with such powers. But Eden’s arrival had opened his eyes in a big way, for he had discovered there were many with such gifts.

It was that notion that complicated things and made him curious. If Iseabail did have powers, and he could not yet say whether that were true or not, then her wanting his necklace meant something more. Eden had given it to him to protect him from those very powers being used on him. So, had Iseabail wanted to relieve him of the necklace so she could use her powers on him, or was it something else?

Once more, he had too many questions with far too few answers.

He was about to relay his musings to Daire, when the study door opened and both men jumped.

“My, my, ye’re both very nervous,” Lilidh declared, beaming from Owen to Daire, and back again. “Anyone would think ye were up tae something.”

While she might be teasing them, Owen felt the guilt well up in him, and hardly able to look her in the eye, he grinned back and quickly turned away.

“Och, Owen,” she giggled, seeing his obvious avoidance. “What have ye got yersel’ caught up in now? Have yer broken another lass’s heart? Is that why yer face is bruised?”

Lilidh Sinclair was his father’s sister, and thus Owen’s aunt, though she was closer to Owen’s age than his father’s. The fact was, his father and his mother had conceived Owen when they were only adolescents themselves, and Madigan was only sixteen years older than his son.

The small age gap had been the reason Owen and his father were so very close. In fact, there were times they acted more like brothers than father and son. That being said, Madigan had always been far more serious than Owen, and while, over the last year or so, Owen had understood the need for him to change his ways, he still was a fun-loving character who liked to push the boundaries.

Lilidh, like his father, was a very perceptive person, and to stop her from pushing any further, he had to do something to change the subject.

“Och, look, Daire. The love o’ yer life is here.”

Daire glared over at Owen, and then pretended not to care. “Ye’re r talking nonsense, Owen. Anything tae get the heat o’ yersel’, isnae that right?”

While he was trying to keep a jovial tone in his voice, Daire was clearly angry, and for good reason. It was obvious to everyone and their mother that Daire was in love with Lilidh. He had been for a long time, and yet, he had never done anything about it. Owen had asked him why many times, but Daire had been adamant that he drop the subject before he found himself with a thick lip.

Owen, of course, had not been able to help himself, and on several occasions, had had to duck from a flying fist coming from Daire’s direction. This time, however, he had done it only to save his own skin.

“I agree with Daire, Owen. I think ye’re just trying tae change the subject,” Lilidh said, seemingly unfazed by Owen’s comment. “So, tell me? Where did ye get those bruises from?”

“All right. All right,” Owen threw his hands up in surrender. “It appears I made a grave mistake and chose the wrong lass,” he said, pinning the best smile he could muster onto his face.

“Dinnae tell me. She was married.”

“Indeed, she was,” Owen lied. “And guess what?” he gestured to his face.

“Her husband found ye,” Lilidh deduced, sighing while shaking her head.

“Right again.”

Owen threw a glance toward Daire, who watched him intently but did not deny Owen’s story.

“When will ye ever learn?” she said. “Why can ye nae find yersel’ a decent woman and settle down.”

“It will never happen, me dear Lilidh,” Owen said, standing and gesticulating dramatically. “I am a free spirit and I intend tae remain so fer all o’ me days.”

“Aye, well,” Lilidh replied, her eyebrows raised, “if ye’re nae careful, yer spirit might truly be free when someone knocks it out o’ that arrogant arse o’ yers.”

Owen burst into laughter, and then, all three of them were laughing.

When the chortling eventually waned, Owen said, “It is a little late fer ye tae still be up, isnae it?”

“I was a little restless. Besides, I was waiting fer ye both tae return from the tavern.” She then gazed at Daire. “I was actually looking fer ye, Daire. I dropped me earring and it has fallen under me dresser. It is far too heavy fer me tae move mesel’. I wonder if ye wouldnae mind coming tae help me?”

“O’ course,” Daire said, standing as he spoke.

Owen couldn’t help but smile as an unspoken thought ran through his mind.

Aye, o’ course, indeed. Ye’d hardly give up a chance o’ spending time with the woman that ye’re besotted with.

“Well, I will bid ye both good night, fer it is time I retired,” Owen said as he moved across the room. “Though I think I will head down tae the kitchen first. There’s bound tae be something left over from supper, fer me stomach feels like me throats been cut.”

“Ye’re always eating,” Lilidh teased.

“Aye, well, I’m a growing lad,” Owen countered with a wink. Passing them on the way to the door, he gave Daire a knowing grin. “Be good.”

Swiftly, Daire lifted a huge hand a clipped the back of Owen’s head.

“Ow,” Owen said, grinning back at him.

“If ye’re nae careful, it’ll be me who removes yer spirit from yer body,” Daire growled as Owen walked away.

“Aye. But ye’ll have tae catch me first,” he called back without stopping.

As he continued out of his father’s study and down the corridor, he could hear Lilidh giggling at their antics. He didn’t know if his aunt was aware how Daire felt about her, but she was an astute woman. He would be surprised if she didn’t. It was a bit of a shame that neither of them had made any moves toward the other. They were so good together and would make a fine couple.

Their voices faded as Owen reached the top of the grand staircase. He swiftly descended the stone steps, wondering what he might find in the kitchen. At the bottom of the staircase, he took a left, but voices echoing through the corridor up ahead suddenly halted him in his tracks.

Straining to listen, Owen could not make out who they belonged to. They were just too far away. It could be anybody, but he was not about to take a chance of bumping into his father. Lilidh had believed his fairy tale of a skirmish with a disgruntled husband, but he doubted he could explain away his bruises to his father. Madigan would not be so na?ve.

The laird had a way of eliciting the truth from him, and Owen knew he would end up blurting everything out. But that could not happen, he did not want Madigan to know what he had done. His father, being the loving, kind, and focused man he was, would immediately procure the money needed to save him and he did not want his father’s help. It was his own doing, and thus, he had to take responsibility for it. He would find the money his own way.

Turning on his heels, Owen ducked under the grand staircase. Lifting a burning lamp from its metal frame, he slipped through a narrow door in the wall. Once inside one of the many tunnels that ran through and under the castle, the tunnels he had spent much of his youth exploring, he ventured forth, the glow of the fire casting long dark shadows on the walls around him.

He knew the way with his eyes closed, and taking lefts and rights, he eventually descended a small set of steps. The kitchen was not far now, and as he could feel his mouth watering at the idea of cold meats and breads, Owen swiftly turned a corner.

“Och, me God!” a woman squealed, as the two crashed into each other.

Lifting the torch high, Owen could hardly believe his eyes.

“What the devil?”

His prisoner, Iseabail, was about to turn and run, when he grabbed her by the arm. “Och, nay ye dinnae,” he growled.

With her now in his tight grip, he pulled her in close. “How? How are ye down here? How did ye escape?”

She did not reply, and only looked up at him with terror in her eyes.

“Fer the love o’ God,” he spat.

His food would have to wait. The tunnels were hardly a place for such interrogation, and thus, he had no choice but to turn back the way he had come, dragging her with him.

“I cannae believe it,” he muttered as he continued. “Ye were locked in that cell. I ken ye were. I saw Kendal lock that gate with me own eyes.”

The lass said nothing as he continued to drag her all the way back to the door he had entered. When they finally ventured out into the corridor, Owen slipped the torch back into its frame, looked left and right to ensure no other was about, and then hurriedly pulled her up the grand staircase.

Good fortune continued to shine upon him, for they met no one in the corridor of the upper floor either, and when he reached his bedchamber door, he slipped inside, pulling her with him, before quickly closing and locking it behind him.

Now that they were secure, he released her. She hurriedly took a few steps back, and once again, looked terrified.

“I’m nae going tae hurt ye,” he said, suddenly realizing what she might be imagining. “I just want answers.”

There was an imperceptible change in her expression, but still, it was clear the woman was shrouded in fear.

“How did ye escape? Tell me? How did ye get out o’ that cell?”

She shook her head. “Ye have tae ken that it wasnae the guard’s fault. Dinnae punish him.”

Her words completely astonished Owen. He had captured her, taken her against her will, locked her in a cell, and all she was concerned about was the guard?

“What?” he blurted.

“It wasnae his fault,” she repeated. “He had tae dae it.”

The conviction in her voice jolted a consideration that Owen had been playing with earlier.

Taking two steps toward her, he said, “So, ye are nae a witch?”

“I already told ye I’m nae,” she retorted.

“Then there can only be one other explanation. Ye are in possession o’ powers, are ye nae?”

Her eyes flew wide at his remark.

“It’s the only way ye could possibly have escaped. It’s the only way ye could have made Daire go and get another drink when he had a full tankard beside him.”

Iseabail continued to look at him, but this time, she appeared conflicted. The fear was still present, but it was evident she was struggling to make a decision.

“Is it true?” he pressed.

“How dae ye ken about powers?” she came back. “Is that why ye wear that crystal around yer neck?”

Owen furrowed his brow, and shook his head. “Ye answer me questions first, and then I will gladly answer yers.”