Page 50 of His Temptation

Daragh nodded once, his nostrils flaring as he caught the faintest trace of her scent. She had been here; so had Wolfe. Recently.

"In the back," Daragh murmured, his grip tightening around the knife at his hip.

They moved as one, making their way toward the back hall, past the bar, past the stunned patrons who dared not meet their eyes. Then he heard it. A familiar, mocking voice that made his skin burn with rage.

"Did you really think you could escape me?"

Daragh stopped, every muscle in his body coiling—ready to strike—as he strained to catch every word. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat a drum of fury, a battle cry held in checkby the thin sliver of wood between him and the scene unfolding inside.

Siobhán’s voice was steady, but he could hear the tension beneath it, the way she fought to keep the tremor from slipping through. “Not really, but then I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

“You don’t really think Daragh O’Neill would settle for a disinherited and tarnished heiress, do you?”

The bastard.

“I do, and I have the claiming bite to prove it.”

Daragh clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached, rage pooling hot in his gut. He could almost see the sneer on the man’s face, the way he’d be looking at her like she was nothing, like she was just another pawn in whatever game he thought he was playing.

Daragh’s breath caught. She wasn’t speaking just to Sebastian, she was speaking to him—claiming him as surely as he had claimed her.

“You may kill me…” her voice rose, carrying a weight that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew then she was no longer speaking just to Sebastian, but to the men surrounding him. “But Daragh will come for you—all of you, and he’ll have the Devil of Galway at his back. Make no mistake, the O’Neills will come for you. When Daragh finds out what has happened, he will rain hellfire down on all of your heads, and Con O’Neill will have the matches.”

A slow, wicked smile curved Daragh’s lips.Aye, mo chroí. They would.

Daragh didn't think. He moved. He kicked the door open; the force sending it crashing against the wall.

Siobhan stood in the center of the room, her body tense, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and standing beside her,gripping her chin in a mockery of possession, was Sebastian Wolfe.

Daragh saw red. His vision blurred, every muscle coiled with the need to tear the bastard apart limb by limb.

Sebastian turned his head slightly, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ah, the devoted husband finally arrives. You took your time, O’Neill. I was beginning to think you might not care about her as much as she seems to care about you."

Siobhan’s gaze snapped to his, her chest rising and falling too fast, her pulse hammering beneath the delicate skin of her throat. Daragh forced himself to stay still, forced himself to shove down the lethal rage threatening to overtake him.

Sebastian wasn’t just a man. He was a game player. A tactician. He wanted Daragh to lose control. Wanted him to act without thinking, and Daragh wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

"Let her go."

Sebastian chuckled, his fingers tightening just slightly on Siobhan’s jaw. "Come now, Daragh. You must have known this was inevitable. She came looking for answers. I simply provided them."

Siobhan jerked her chin from his grip, her glare venomous. "You set a trap."

Sebastian sighed, shaking his head. "Darling, everything in your life has been a trap. You just never realized it." He glanced at Daragh, his smile widening. "Did she ever tell you why MI5 was so desperate to get her back?"

Daragh stilled.

Sebastian took that as an invitation to continue. "They don’t just want her for what she knows. They want her for what she is. You think you claimed her, O’Neill? That’s adorable. But she was never yours to claim. She was always meant to be a weapon."

Siobhan flinched, her entire body rigid. "Shut up, Sebastian."

Daragh’s fingers twitched against the hilt of his blade. "Explain."

Sebastian grinned. "Oh, I think your pretty little mate should be the one to do that. After all, she was the one who made a deal with the devil, wasn’t she?"

Daragh barely kept his rage contained. Siobhan’s lips parted, a shadow crossing her face.

Sebastian tsked. "MI5 doesn’t want her just to keep her from me. They want her because they made her. She didn’t just stumble into my world, Daragh. She was placed in it. Conditioned for it. Molded into the perfect spy, the perfect infiltrator. And they sent her to me."

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