Page 16 of Kilted Sins

Enya didn’t know what she would prefer. Cillian’s hands were warm on her waist, even through the layers of clothing that separated them, and his grey eyes watched her with what she could only describe as hunger—a hunger that she, too, felt. A desire that coiled deep in her body and dug its hooks in her. If he kissed her now, though, and she gave in, then not only would it ruin her plan, but it would also complicate everything.

She wasn’t the one who was supposed to marry him. She couldn’t forget the reason for her presence in MacDonald Castle or the fact that despite what everyone else was made to think in that castle, they were not betrothed to each other.

Just as fast as he had grabbed her, though, Cillian let go of her, taking a few steps back. Suddenly, it was as though Enya could breathe again, but the rush of air in her lungs almost choked her, leaving her gasping once more.

Or perhaps it wasn’t the air at all. Perhaps it was something else entirely, something she didn’t want to consider.

“Ye’rе an infuriatin’ lass,” Cillian said and just like that, the spell that had been cast over Enya was gone. She frowned, tilting her chin up in defiance as she glared at him, a new wave of anger coursing through her at the insult.

Why had she ever thought Cillian could be anything but a beast?

“But ye fight well,” Cillian added before Enya could protest. “Where did ye learn how tae fight like that? It isnae often that a lass is trained in the arts o’ war.”

“Nae war,” said Enya, shaking her head. She couldn’t claim to be knowledgeable in battle, nor did she see it as an art. She had seen too many wounded soldiers, too many people losing life and limb in battle, and she could never stomach such a thing. “I simply ken how tae use a sword.”

“Is that nae a part o’ war?”

“It isnae if ye dinnae wage a war,” Enya pointed out.

For a few moments, Cillian simply stared at her in silence and it was as though he could peer right through her, searching for something that Enya couldn’t grasp. In the end, he simply smiled and asked, “Well, where did ye learn the art o’ the sword, then?”

Enya couldn’t help but smile a little too, despite still being angry about Cillian’s behavior. She remembered the days she had spent with her brothers and with Thora, the two of them joining the others as they trained even though they were girls. Their brothers had never complained. Not only that, but they welcomed them in their training sessions, showing them how to fight and how to keep themselves safe even when fighting men twice their size.

In Enya’s eyes, after all, she had won the match with Cillian. Even if she hadn’t managed to put him in a vulnerable position, she could have injured him enough to run away.

“Thora an’ I spent our days fightin’ our braithers,” she said. “They were forced tae train from a young age an’ we wished tae spend time with them. We both despised embroidery. So, we trained.”

Enya’s true calling had always been healing; if nothing else, then her powers were enough to prove it. Until she was old enough to be deemed ready to learn about healing, though, her governesses had insisted on embroidery and painting and all the things a lady should be able to do, and she and Thora had done anything in their power to avoid such activities—including roping their brothers into helping them by asking, if not downright begging, their tutors to let them train with their sisters.

“Thora?” Cillian asked, sounding confused, and Enya looked up at him to see a puzzled look in his eyes.

“Aye?” she said, now just as confused as he was.

“Ye said ye an’ Thora,” Cillian said and Enya’s heart came to a sudden halt, skipping beat after beat. In her haste, she had forgotten all about her ploy and had slipped up right in front of him.

Did he suspect her now, Enya wondered? Could he tell she was lying to him?

But how could he? Cillian had no idea what Thora looked like and even if he did, Enya knew he would be incapable of telling them apart. Still, the longer she stalled, trying to figure out how to salvage the situation, the more suspicious he was bound to get, and so she rushed to find something to say, an awkward laugh escaping her.

“Did I?” she asked, her voice too high-pitched even in her own ears. She cleared her throat and tried again, while the entire time her heart thundered in her chest—a big and sudden change from its former stillness. “Ach, I must have gotten confused. Everyone confuses us all the time.”

At that, Cillian’s already suspicious eyes narrowed even further as if in disbelief. “Ye confuse yerselves, too?”

Enya froze for a moment, giving Cillian what she thought must have been a tariffing grimace rather than the smile for which she was aiming.

“Nay,” she said. “That would be… foolish.”

Cillian once again stared at Enya in confusion that she couldn’t blame him for. She had to be more careful. She had to make sure she never slipped like this again, especially not in front of Cillian or any of the men in his council.

In that moment, as Cillian’s gaze bore a hole through her, Enya decided the best defense was an offence.

“Well! Dae ye never get confused?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared up at him defiantly once more. “Are ye so perfect that ye always ken what ye say?”

The sudden attack seemed to have the intended effect, as Cillian parted his lips as if to speak and then sputtered, at a loss for words. When he finally managed to articulate his thoughts, he said, “I never claimed such a thing! See? Ye are such an infuriatin’ lass!”

“Ye’re the one who always acts strangely!” Enya accused, which was true enough, she thought, even if this time she was the one acting strangely. In his exasperation, Cillian threw his hands up in the air with a weary sigh, before turning around and walking a few paces down the path from where they had come. For a short while, Enya thought she had managed to avoid any further confrontation, but then he came to a halt and pinched the bridge of his nose, the breath he took so heavy and long that Enya could hear it from where she stood, still near the wall.

“I didnae mean tae offend ye,” Cillian said as he turned around to face her. “I was merely makin’ an observation.”