Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

T he cottage was hardly ideal. It was cold, water leaked in through holes in the roof, and wind rattled through the wooden blinds. It was certainly a protection against the dreadful weather, but it was a far cry from any accommodation Iseabail had stayed in up to that point.

Between them, she and Owen had secured the rotten blinds as best they could. The wind still howled through the gaps, but it was a little better. There was nothing they could do about the leaky roof, and thus, they made effort to avoid the places where puddles gathered as the water poured in.

With all its faults, the cottage was still far better than having to camp outside, though the idea of having to sleep in the same room as Owen did not please Iseabail at all. But nor could she demand that he sleep in another room where there was no fire. By his earlier comment, her demand would likely be ignored at any rate. Perhaps, on their journey, this circumstance was something she was going to have to get accustomed to.

Yet, he was right. Both of them were soaked through, and even now, as they sat down to eat, Iseabail’s clothes were not fully dry. She could only imagine that Owen suffered the same. Given the little firewood he had been able to find, the fire was far smaller than both of them were used to, but, again, it was better than no fire at all.

In the saddle bags, she was able to find meat and bread, and though they had no plates, Owen had found an old discarded tray that had clearly not seen use in years. With a quick wash in the rain, however, it was fully functional again, giving Iseabail somewhere to lay their food.

As they ate, Iseabail found herself lost in thoughts of how this quest was going to play out. It had been fortune shining upon her when she had come across Owen and the crystal he wore. She now had an ally, of sorts, and certainly a way to protect her when they did finally find the crystal.

If I find the crystal.

I have tae find it.

Tearing apart a chicken leg with his teeth, Owen looked over at her and said, “Isnae it a bit careless o’ ye tae be travelling around alone? There are dreadful people wandering about, ye ken. And there ye are, with nay guards tae protect ye.”

“Ye didnae seem tae care that I was alone when ye met me in the tavern,” Iseabail countered.

“Aye, but I didnae ken who ye were then.”

“Och, I see. So, if I were just a lowly common woman, me safety wouldnae matter.”

“That’s nae what I mean, and ye ken it. Nay lass should be out and about alone, but with what ye’re doing, travelling intae strange places and asking questions, ye should be more wary.”

Iseabail shook her head. “I’ve never needed any protection. Nor have I felt in danger. Me gift enables me tae stop any ill-will occurring, either toward me or toward another. In fact, in all the years I have lived kenning me gift, I have never had any doubt that I could protect mesel’.” She paused a beat. “Until now.”

Owen looked at her carefully, watching her glancing down at his necklace.

“Because o’ this,” he said, touching the crystal at his throat.

“Aye,” she said, nodding. “Ye’re the first man I have met that me powers willnae work on. The first man I cannae defend mesel’ against.”

“But surely, ye kent about this crystal ‘afore,” he said.

“Nae. I didnae. It was only when Laird Sutherland sent me on this mission that I found out about such a thing.” She pierced him with and intense gaze. “Dae ye really think I would put mesel’ at such risk?”

“But ye put yersel’ at risk when ye found out about it,” Owen argued. “Ye have nay guards with ye, and still, ye are wandering about alone.”

“That’s different. I’ve been forced tae take that path so as nae tae bring any attention tae mesel’. I’ve been searching fer this crystal fer weeks. How many people are going tae open up tae me about where I might find it when I have huge guards standing at me side?”

Owen shrugged. “Fair point.”

“Guards will only make me more noticeable. I have tae act stealthily in what I am doing. Naeone can ken. Me faither’s and braither’s lives depend on it.”

For a moment, he didn’t speak again, and then he said, “And are ye nae afraid now, here with me?”

Again, Iseabail shook her head. “Nae. I have already deduced the kind o’ man ye are, Owen. And while ye dae like the lasses, yer nae one tae force anyone against their will. That being said,” she added, “while I sleep on this side o’ the room this night, ye will sleep over there.” She gestured to the other side.

“As long as I’m in the same room as the fire, I couldnae care less where I sleep,” he replied flippantly.

Iseabail was nearly certain his words were defensive, as though he were almost offended that she didn’t want to lie anywhere near him. It was evident he was used to attention from the lasses. She had heard Daire mention it as well. Perhaps he was a little offended that Iseabail didn’t see him in the same way those other women did.

She could not deny he was a striking man. When he had saved her in the tavern, he had quite taken her breath away. But a lot had happened since then, and she was in no hurry to forget that he had locked her up in a dungeon and accused her of being a witch, even when he knew there were people with powers. Even when his own step mother was one of those people.

Perhaps he had just wanted to make certain she was no danger, but his tactics had been a little too extreme for her liking.

When they finished eating, they cleared up the remains of the food, and with Owen announcing he was going to relieve himself, he took the bones out with him to throw away.

Iseabail used the opportunity of his absence to set up a makeshift bed by laying a thin blanket on the floor, positioning a saddle bag as a pillow, and determining to use the heavy cloak she wore as a blanket when she finally lay her head down to rest.

But she, too, needed to relieve herself, and when Owen returned with more pieces of wood, she moved passed him to make her way outside.

“Dae ye want me tae come with ye?” He smirked. “It’s pretty dark out there.”

Iseabail curled her upper lip and scowled at him. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“Please yersel’.” He shrugged, making his way towards the fire with the added fuel he’d gathered. “Scream if ye need me.”

Huffing, Iseabail turned on her heels and swept out of the room, feeling anger rising at his patronizing tone. She had gotten this far without him. She was certain she could manage another ten minutes of her life without his help.

It was dark outside, but her eyes adjusted to it as she ventured a little way from the cottage. At least the rain had stopped. It would have been annoying to get soaked again, after drying off as much as she already had.

Nervously, she turned and looked over her shoulder. It was silly to think that Owen would follow her out, but that irrational part of her messed with her imagination. Of course, he was nowhere in sight, and there was no reason to follow her when he could have had his way with her inside if he were that type of man. Deriding herself for being so paranoid, Iseabail found a suitable place to do what was necessary.

When she returned, Owen had made up his own sleeping quarters exactly where she had demanded, across the room and far away from her. He was already lying down with his eyes closed, his back against the wall, and his body facing into the room. She had no doubt he was still awake. No one fell asleep that quickly. But instead of engaging with him, she moved over to her own blanket and settled herself in.

Finally managing to get herself as comfortable as she was able, under the circumstances, she finally closed her eyes.

“Good night, Lady Mackay,” Owen’s voice traveled across the room.

“Good night,” she replied.

A loud clattering noise disturbed her with such fright that she gasped.

Given the dreadful discomfort of the hard floor, Iseabail had not imagined she would sleep at all, and yet, apparently, she had fallen into slumber. Now, however, she was fully awake with her heart thumping in her breast.

Someone is in the cottage.

Rapid scrambling sounded from across the room, and suddenly, Owen was by her side.

“Dinnae worry. I’m here. I’ll nae let anything happen tae ye,” he whispered.

He crouched in front of her, protectively putting himself between her and whatever might be coming.

“Dae ye have a weapon?” she whispered, grabbing the dirk she had tucked down her sock.

“’Tis in me hand already,” he murmured.

She had rarely drawn her knife in all her travels. There had never been a necessity. Even now, with the fear rippling through her, she knew she could compel the intruder to stop in their tracks. And yet, the terror remained.

They both stayed perfectly still, their eyes focused on the door, waiting for whomever might enter. But after several minutes and little sound, Iseabail was beginning to wonder if she hadn’t been dreaming.

Clearly nae, if the sound woke Owen as well.

And yet, if someone had entered the tiny house, where were they and what were they doing?

“Maybe we should go and check?” Iseabail suggested.

“I will go and check. Ye stay right here,” he said, pushing himself to a standing crouch.

But Iseabail was not so easily ordered about, and scrambling to her feet, she was about to follow when Owen stopped dead in his tracks and remained perfectly still.

Peering around him, Iseabail’s eyes widened, and relief flooded through her body as she looked upon a scrawny black dog that, with its ears pinned back, and its tail huddled between its legs, stood there in the doorway looking both hungry and terrified.

“Och, the poor thing,” she cooed, walking passed Owen to approach it.

“Wait,” he hissed, as she completely ignored him. “It might be dang?—”

But Iseabail was already at the dog’s side, and laying her hand on his head, she spoke quietly to him. “Are ye lost, boy? Ye look hungry.”

When she turned to look at Owen, he was rolling his eyes and shaking his head, clearly not impressed that she had ignored his warning.

“He’s harmless,” she said.

“Aye, well. We ken that now ,” he huffed.

“Maybe he found the bones ye threw away earlier. He obviously hasnae been fed in some time,” she said, nodding to his clearly visible ribs.

Owen approached then, and crouching down beside him, he stroked him gently. The dog shook, though whether from cold or fear, they could not know.

Owen stood again and walked towards the saddle bags. “Come on, pal. Let’s get ye something else tae eat.”

The dog did not move from Iseabail’s side for a moment, until, sniffing the air, he realized that Owen had food. Still, he approached timidly, as though he might earn himself a strike at any second.

“He looks like he’s been beaten,” Iseabail said a little later, when the animal had satisfied his hunger.

“Aye,” Owen said sadly. “There are some wicked people in the world. If I kent who’d done it, I’d be tempted tae give them a taste o’ their own medicine. See how they like it.”

Being a lover of animals, Iseabail smiled at his words. Not at the idea that Owen would take such pleasure in striking another human being, but for the fact that he would defend a stray dog that he barely knew. She was of the firm belief that one could tell a lot about a person by the way they treated animals.

Human beings could fight back, or answer back, but for the most part, animals were defenseless. Being kind to things that were so openly vulnerable said a lot about a person’s character. She might have had to blackmail Owen to help her, but clearly, he had a decent heart.

Ye kent that already.

Of course, she did, but now she knew just a little bit more about him.

Once the excitement was over, Iseabail and Owen began settling themselves down again, but as she sat on the thin blanket that made up her bed, Iseabail realized how frightened she had been when the dog had woken her so suddenly.

The animal now lay close to the fire, clearly in need of the warmth, and as she gazed at it, she lifted her eyes and glanced across at Owen.

“Are ye all right?” he asked, catching her eye.

After such an earlier demand that he must sleep on the other side of the room, Iseabail now felt embarrassed, even hypocritical to ask for what she needed, and instead of replying, she looked away.

“Iseabail,” Owen said, his voice a little softer. “Would ye like me tae come and sleep closer tae ye?”

How he guessed what she wanted, Iseabail did not know. Perhaps her fear was written across her face. Or perhaps, he was far more perceptive than she had originally given him credit for. Whatever the answer, she still felt embarrassed to say yes, and so, shrugging a little coyly, she nodded.

She was grateful he didn’t force her to say it, and a few minutes later, Owen had shifted his own makeshift bed beside hers.

“Now, let’s try and get some rest,” he said, settling himself down just a foot away. “We have a long journey ahead o’ us.”

Iseabail’s head lifted and fell in a slow, easy rhythm. She felt warm and entirely comfortable, and for that slight moment before she awoke fully, she sighed, feeling like she could stay where she was for a long time.

Flicking her eyes open, however, she suddenly gasped, and lifting her head from Owen’s chest, where it lay, she glared up at him. Owen smiled down at her. He was wide awake, and evidently had been for some time.

“Och, me goodness,” she said, hurriedly pushing herself off him.

Owen remained with an easy smile on his lips. “Ye were sound asleep. I didnae want tae wake ye.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldnae… I mean, I didnae… I’m…”

“Dinnae worry yer pretty little head, Lady Mackay. Ye did naething wrong.”

“Well, o’ course I did naething wrong,” she replied, feeling her cheeks burn red.

“Then what are ye worrying fer?” Owen grinned back.

By this time, Iseabail had pushed herself to her feet, trying to ignore the ache in her hips from lying on the hard floor, and walked several steps away. She spent an overly long time brushing down her frock, doing her very best to avoid Owen’s gaze. A gaze that told her that he was highly entertained by her embarrassment.

“We should pack,” she said quickly, turning and heading toward the door.

“Where are ye going?” Owen was now up and on his feet. Grabbing his blanket, he began to fold it in some unconventional way.

“I found a bucket yesterday. I put it under one o’ the holes in the roof. It means we have fresh water tae drink.”

He looked surprised, and inclining an impressive head, he said. “Nae just a pretty face, then.”

Iseabail refrained from snarling, and instead, continued in the direction she was going.

Aye, Mr. Sinclair. I am, in fact, far smarter than ye imagine.

With flasks refilled with fresh water, and saddle bags packed, they readied themselves to venture out to the horses. Owen held back for a moment longer, and when Iseabail turned to see what he was doing, she watched him leave several large cuts of meat for the dog, who remained lying beside the now dead fire.

“I think ye have a wee soft spot for him,” Iseabail said, finding herself rather moved at Owen’s kindness.

“Aye, well. He’s just down on his luck, is all. We all need a wee hand when that happens.”

She wondered, as she made her way out to her mare, if Owen had been speaking more for himself than the dog, yet she could not ignore his kindness. Mounting her beast, she turned to him as he sat upon his.

“Good things always come back tae ye. Yer good deeds willnae go unnoticed.”