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“Aye. All right. How does the game go?”

“I tell you two truths about me and one lie, and you need to guess which is the lie.”

He cleared his throat. “Do ye play games like that wherever ye come from?”

Amber’s head began clearing, and with that, pain grasped her back harder. She also suddenly realized she was completely naked from the waist up. How much of her boobs had he seen? Heat rushed to her cheeks.

“Yeah,” she said. “We do.”

Had the potion worn off? Would she even be able to come up with a lie?

“Aye, let’s play this game of truths and lies.”

“Okay. I’ll go first.”

She was already regretting her choice of game. She’d told him as little as possible about herself, hiding the biggest truth of all—that she was from the future. She needed to be as general as possible.

“I like apples,” she said. “Hate romantic comedy. Want to get married.”

Ah! So she could lie to him. Good. She hadn’t been sure. Owen didn’t move for a moment, and she could feel his gaze on the back of her head like red-hot coals.

“What’s a romantic comedy?” he said.

Oh shoot. “It’s like theater. A story about love, and it’s funny,” she said, then muttered to herself, “and full of clichés.”

“What did ye say?”

“Nothing. Which one’s a lie?”

“Why do ye nae want to get marrit?” She could feel him pinch the sides of her skin and pierce her flesh. She sucked in a sharp breath and exhaled slowly through that pain.

“How did you guess?”

“I dinna see ye enjoying a funny show about love, and who doesna like apples?”

She shifted her head and looked back at him. His profile was pure concentration. His lips were tightly pressed in the midst of his scruff, his nostrils were flared, and his brows were drawn together. Despite the pain and fear she’d get an infection, the fact that this gorgeous, hunky man was closely working on her body suddenly made blood rush to her face.

“I said dinna move, lass.” There was a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Bossy much?” She turned her head back and laid it on her hand.

“So why dinna ye want to get marrit?” he said and pierced her again.

She wasn’t ready for this pain. “Ahhh!” she screamed.

The other prisoner at the end of the dungeon screamed, too.

Owen took her free hand and lowered his face to her. “Breathe, lass,” he said gently but firmly. His handsome, green eyes were right in front of her face, full of concern, and a lock of his blond hair fell on his forehead.

She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Please tell me you’re nearly done.”

“One more stitch. Then I’m done. Tell me why ye dinna want to get marrit. My sister Marjorie didna, either. Did someone abuse ye?” His voice jumped with the last two words.

Bryan had been angry and irritable after he’d started working closely with Major Jackson and had becoming increasingly controlling in bed. The final straw was when he’d duct-taped her to the bed and spanked her. He’d hit her so hard she couldn’t breathe, and tears had run down her cheeks. He’d stopped when she’d asked, and she had agreed to it in the first place. So was it abuse?

“No one abused me,” she said to Owen. ”But let’s just say there are things in my past I wouldn’t want anyone to have to deal with.”

She couldn’t imagine truly trusting anyone enough to get married to them. And in the unlikely event that there existed a man who wouldn’t try to control her and blame her for all his faults and problems, how could she ever connect her life with anyone and have children when she could be taken to prison or even sentenced to death at any moment?