Page 39 of Three Irish Kings
“You're an heiress, right? At least, that’s your cover story.”
She freezes. “Cover story?”
I wave my hand dismissively. “You know. The whole Isla thing.”
“Oh. Well, I mean, yeah, it was a cover story, but not because I’m Maggie.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
She huffs out a breath, sitting down at the table. “Why should I? Why should I tell you the truth about who I am when you have me here as prisoner?”
“I mean, I could get it out of you.”
She swallows hard, keeping eye contact while sipping her coffee. “Would you really torture me?”
I stare at her for a long moment, and she stares back.
I finally shake my head. “No. None of us wanted to do this.”
“That’s what Dare said.”
“Guess you got to know him pretty well. Biblically.”
She flushes. “That’s none of your business.”
“I’d say itismy business. Dare is my best friend.”
“I thought Cillian was your best friend.”
“Cillian is my brother. Dare is my best friend.”
She holds out her hands. “Sorry, I got it wrong. Not like you guys really introduced yourselves or anything.”
I sigh, leaning forward and sticking my hand out. “I’m Liam Hayes.”
“Isla. Waters.” She shakes my hand with a firm grip.
I justknowshe’s lying. Every time her lips are moving.
Even the last name sounds like she made it up on a whim.
But that first name, Isla...
“Where are your parents from?”
She pauses and then sips her coffee again. “My mother is from Jersey. My father is a first-generation Irish immigrant.”
With a surname like Waters? Unlikely.
“Is that why you don’t blink when Dare calls youa ghrá?”
She flushes again. “My father sometimes used Gaelic around me, so yeah, I know the term. It means?—”
“Love.”
Maggie looks up at me for a long moment, then looks away. “I think I’m going to go back to my room unless you plan on feeding me any time soon. I’m starving.”
Food. Shit.
