The man jerked away,ripping the air from my lungs and leaving my chest with a dull, hollow ache. Something crashed to the ground and shattered. “You’re not Eithne,” he snarled.
The only Eithne I knew was married—and not to this man.
“Why have you come?” he demanded. “Who sent you?”
I scrubbed at my tingling neck, searching for my missing voice. “No one sent me.” I didn’t want to be affected byanyonelike that—much less by a man having an affair with a twit like Eithne. “Next time, plan your trysts someplace with a little more light.”
Orange light flashed, and I found myself squinting at a ball of flame in the palm of the man’s hand, a pair of piercing cerulean eyes staring back at me.
The owner of those eyes had dark hair and high cheekbones, a small, silver scar across his straight nose, and a rigid jaw that came to a stubborn point at his chin. The looks of a devil with lips of flame. Dark and dashing, daring me to close the distance between us with his hypnotic gaze.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I am whoever you want me to be.”
Brilliant. Another man who believed himself irresistible. “The only thing I want you to be is gone.”
His eyes widened, reflecting the flame in his palm and revealing a thin ring of gold around his pupils. “I was here first.”
He had a point.
“Fine. I’ll go.” Pushing away from the wall, I stalked toward the exit. Dust motes spun in the shaft of light illuminating a broken clay jug.
A shadow crossed the entrance. “Oisin? Are you in there?”
Eithne.
The stranger grabbed my cloak, dragging me behind a wooden bench and forcing me to the floor where the rest of him hunkered. “Not a word,” he warned, a finger pressed to his lips.
Lips that had tasted my skin.
I resisted the urge to scratch at the spot where he’d kissed me, my nerves still buzzing.
Eithne whispered his name again.
The bloody gossip, she’d tell everyone if she caught us together.
She’d delight in seeing me ruined.
Why did this man have to be having an affair with Eithne of all people?
Five years ago, she’d shown me the type of man Robert was beneath all his pretty lies.
I shouldn’t hate her for what had happened.
I hated her anyway.
Oisin didn’t look the least bit concerned about getting caught. Didn’t bother glancing toward the boots tiptoeing through the sawdust. Didn’t blink or wince or react at all when she drew closer and closer and closer still.
All the man did was stare at me.
“Eithne? Where did you go, pet?” a man called from outside, his voice gruff and stilted. Was it her husband? Did he know she was having an affair?
Cursing, Eithne stomped to the door. The hinges whined, and the voices from the market grew louder, then muffled by the closing door.
“That was close,” Oisin said with a deep, rumbling laugh.
Close? What did it matter to him? He was the one having an affair with a married woman. If he’d been caught, nothing would’ve happened. But my life would’ve been over.