Page 62 of Three Irish Kings

I sit down gently on the edge of the couch, and Dare stirs, snorting himself awake. Instantly, he puts his arms around my waist, pulling me against him on the couch, nuzzling against the back of my neck.

I hum, his touch igniting things in me I thought were long dead.

Why are these the men who make me feel like this?

But then again, am I any better than them? I want them to open to me, to tell me all I need to know, but I lied to them about my name and who I was. I’mstilllying about my family. My deadbeat father is in the wind, and my mother passed a few years ago. But if they think someone’s looking for me, they might not kill me. At least, that was the reason at first.

“Good morning,a ghrá,”Dare murmurs, voice raspy with sleep.

Arousal pools in my belly as he sweeps his hand up my hip, leaving it possessively on my upper thigh, squeezing the flesh there.

“Good morning.”

“How are you feeling?” He kisses the side of my face.

I’m not surprised he’s an affectionate lover, from the way he acts. Cillian, on the other hand? That had floored me.

“A little sore.”

He chuckles. “Understandable. I’ll run you a hot bath later.”

“Cillian already did, last night.”

He freezes. “Did he now?”

“Aye.”

His eyes sparkle as he looks at me. “You really are half-Irish, aren’t you?”

“I told you I was.”

“Guess I didn’t quite believe it until I heard you say that. Takes one to know one, I suppose.”

“You wouldn’t like me so much if I was, say, Italian?”

“I love Italy, so sure I would. I just likeyou, Isla. If that is your real name.”

He’s teasing, but it hurts regardless.

“I keep telling you that is my real name.”

“Then why did you lie about your surname?”

I blow out a breath. “I don’t know. Seemed smart not to give all my information to kidnappers.”

He winces. “Aye, I guess you’re right about that. So, Quinn, huh? I know some Quinns around. Are you related to any of them?”

I shake my head, even though it’s quite possible I am. Hell, I could even have half-siblings from my father out there, somewhere. But there is no way I’ll let them know who my father really is. Not because he is someone important; he isn’t, but because I don’t want them to use that information against me. My father is a nobody, but he is a nobody who earns a living on the wrong side of the law.

“And they live on the west coast, you said?”

“That’s what I said.”

Dare looks at me curiously but doesn’t press. “You’re a bit of an enigma, Isla Quinn.”

I can’t deny that it feels good to hear him use my real name.

“I could say the same about you.”