Page 12 of Healing the Highland Sinner (Tales of the Maxwell Lasses #7)

CHAPTER 12

“Let me look at yer wound,” she said.

Ellair winced but offered her a shrug. “I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

“Let her tend tae yer wound, lad,” Ciar said. “If ye dinnae, she’ll nag at ye until she wears ye down. Better tae just get it over with.”

Rosalind gave him a look and a frown but laughed anyway. She pushed him down into the chair behind him. After they’d fled the warehouse, Rosalind had led them through the winding warren of streets through town. It felt like they had been running for hours when she finally stopped them at a small, discreet house tucked away among others.

House was probably too generous of a description. It was a trio of small, windowless rooms beneath an apothecary. The smell of the herbs from above was pleasant, but every now and then, Ellair caught a whiff of some of the noxious brews the healer upstairs was making. Still, it was a good place to hide since they knew Ewan and his men were scouring all of Thurso for them.

“I’ll be right back. I need tae fetch me supplies,” she said.

As she walked away, Ciar stepped over to him and clapped him on the shoulder. Ellair turned his face up and saw a look of respect, and perhaps even a touch of admiration upon the big man’s face. He nodded to Ellair.

“Four of the bastards,” he said. “Ye did well.”

“Three, actually. Rosalind took one of them out herself.”

Ciar’s deep laughter echoed around the small chamber. “She’s a feisty one.”

“Aye. That she is.”

“Still. Ye did well. Ye protected her. Kept her safe.”

“But nae without her takin’ a scratch of her own.”

Ciar shrugged. “Could’ve been worse. A lot worse,” he said. “Maybe a bloody lip will teach her she shouldnae go plungin’ in heedlessly. ‘Tis what she pays us fer.”

“I pay ye fer yer charmin’ company,” she said with a laugh as she stepped over to them and set a basket down on the table beside the chair he was sitting in.

“Oh, is that so?” Ciar asked. “Then I want a raise since me company is more charmin’ than most. It’s certainly more charmin’ than this donkey’s.”

“I cannae disagree with that,” Ellair said. “But it ain’t charmin’ enough tae earn him a raise.”

Rosalind laughed. “Aye. Ye’re both right,” she said. “Now, take yer shirt off and let me have a look at that wound.”

He sighed but did as she asked and removed his shirt. She leaned over and grimaced as she inspected the slice on his arm.

“Well, the good news is that it’s nae a deep wound,” she said.

“I told ye ‘twas nae bad.”

She gave him a look. “But even a shallow cut can get infected and kill ye.”

Ellair sighed but sat back and let Rosalind tend to the cut. She opened a small brown bottle and poured a thick clear liquid over the wound. He winced and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Bleedin’ hell that stings,” he grumbled.

She laughed. “Ye whine like an old lady.”

“It stings,” he said then wrinkled his nose. “It stinks too.”

“I correct meself. Ye whine like a bairn.”

Ciar chuckled from his spot near the door and Ellair shot him a dark look, which only made the big man laugh harder. Rosalind pulled a small brown jar from the basket and pulled the stopper out of it. Ellair wrinkled his nose again.

“Dae ye nae have any ointments that dinnae smell like death?” he asked.

“The worse it smells, the better it is fer ye.”

“Is that ancient healer wisdom?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

He chuckled as she took some of the ointment onto her finger and spread it across the slice in his arm. Her touch was gentle, and her gaze lingered on Ellair’s. He swallowed hard, feeling a strange flutter in his heart. She made him feel things he wasn’t used to feeling. Things he’d spent his life trying to avoid. He was a man who shunned personal and emotional connections. They were things he neither wanted nor needed in his life.

But when he looked into Rosalind’s eyes, he felt those walls he’d built around his heart begin to crack and crumble. Her gaze was so open and direct, it never failed to put a stitch in his heart. And her laughter filled his heart with a joy he’d never known before. She made him feel giddy, which was a rarity in his life. It was disconcerting.

She gave him a small smile as she spread more of the ointment on his arm. It was cold and slimy, but it also took some of the fire out of the wound. It smelled bad but strangely enough, it felt pleasant. Soothing. Once she had smeared the ointment all over his wound, she wound a clean cloth around it and tied it tightly, letting her fingers linger on his arm for a moment. Ellair smiled, relishing the warmth of her hand on him.

“There,” she said. “That should keep ye from gettin’ an infection.”

“I hope so. If ye’re right and the worse it smells the better it is fer ye, I have a feelin’ I may just get better immediately.”

“How long dae ye think we should hide out in here?” Ciar asked, interrupting their banter.

“I dinnae ken,” she said. “I dinnae think Ewan will give up lookin’ fer us so easily.”

“Are ye sure he daesnae ken about this place?”

She shook her head. “Ye didnae even ken about this place.”

Ciar shrugged. “True enough.”

“I learned a long time ago ye need some secret bolt holes kent tae nobody else fer times like these,” she explained.

Ellair nodded. It was smart thinking and prudent planning. He was impressed. What she lacked in skill with a blade she more than made up for with her mind. She was shrewd, clever, and intelligent. Necessary traits for a smuggler, he supposed. But it just showed him there was more to her than met the eye. And it made him wonder, not for the first time, why somebody like Rosalind would ally herself with a man like Hugh Sinclair, and by extension, with the English.

“What dae ye think we should dae?” she asked.

He frowned. “Honestly, if Ewan is half as obsessed with killin’ ye as ye think he is?—”

“I think his stunt at the warehouse proves he is,” Ciar said.

“So, assumin’ that’s true, he’s nae goin’ tae stop lookin’ fer ye. He’ll ken we cannae have gotten far. He’ll keep his men combin’ the streets fer the rest of the night. At least, if I were in his place and was determined tae kill ye, ‘tis what I’d dae.”

“I agree,” Ciar said. “I think it’d be safest if we holed up here fer the night.”

She nodded. “All right then. We stay here taenight.”

They fell silent and tried to settle in. Ciar sat by the door, his sword across his lap. His eyes were closed and his breathing even, but Ellair knew he was merely taking a warrior’s nap. He wasn’t in a deep sleep and would be up and ready to fight in the blink of an eye. Ellair remained in the chair Rosalind had put him in and watched her pacing back and forth like a caged lion. She was clearly anxious and agitated.

“Ye should try tae get some rest,” he said.

“I couldnae rest if I wanted tae,” she replied.

“He’ll nae find us here. Like ye said, nobody but ye even knew of this place.”

“Daesnae mean he willnae find us.”

Ellair shrugged. “And if he does, we’ll deal with him and his men. I’ll nae let anybody get tae ye,” he replied. “And I ken Ciar willnae either.”

She stopped pacing for a moment and offered him a smile. He could see though, that although he might have made her feel somewhat better, he had not alleviated all her anxiety, nor had she burned off all her nervous energy. She was tense. Worried.

“All right,” he said and got to his feet.

“Ye should really rest, Ellair. Ye were wounded.”

“Me legs work just fine,” he replied. “Besides, I want tae prove tae ye that I’m nae a bairn.”

She laughed and shook her head. Ellair picked up the dagger she’d used to kill the man in the warehouse, now clean of all the blood that had once coated it and handed it to her.

“Ye did well in the warehouse,” he said. “But we need tae work on yer grip still. When ye drive it intae a man, ye need tae pull it back out.”

She grimaced. “It was a terrible experience. I didnae like how it felt.”

He looked deeply into her eyes and saw how much it had hurt her to do what she’d done, even though she’d had no choice. It was him or her. And frankly, Ellair was glad that she made the choice she had.

“Are ye all right?” he asked.

“Aye. At least, I will be,” she replied. “I’ve just never…”

“I ken. But ye did what he had tae dae. Ye protected yerself. Ye did naethin’ wrong,” he said softly. “And I ken this will sound terrible tae say, but it gets easier.”

She offered him a gentle smile. “Thank ye.”

“Of course. I just dinnae want ye tae feel bad fer daein’ what was necessary.”

She nodded. “I’ll… I’ll work on it.”

“Good,” he said. “Now, let’s work on yer form.”

She laughed softly and nodded again. “All right.”

He put his hands on her hips and felt her stiffen and draw in a sharp breath. He cleared his throat and tried to quell his arousal, which was stirring. Standing close behind her, he relished the softness of her body but tried to keep from dwelling on it. He put the dagger in her hand and positioned her arms the way he wanted.

“Ye want tae keep yer arms just like this,” he said.

She tensed and positioned her arms just as he was showing her. He wrapped his hand around hers, showing her how he wanted her to hold the blade and couldn’t help but notice the warmth and suppleness of her skin. Their faces were mere inches apart and it was all he could do to keep himself from leaning forward and kissing her. He wanted to. Desperately. But he forced himself to pull back, reluctantly removing his hands from her hips, then circled around in front of her.

He cleared his throat again, their gazes lingering on each other for a moment. “All right,” he said, his voice thick. “Now, when ye move tae attack, ye want tae keep yer grip on the hilt of the dagger just like that. And then ye move, strike, and pull back.”

He pulled out his own dagger and demonstrated for her. “All right. Yer turn.”

She moved through the forms as he’d instructed her, but she was still a little stiff. Too unnatural in her movements. And definitely far too slow. In a real fight, she would have been gutted a dozen times and left for dead. Ellair stepped behind her again, positioning her body in the correct form, keenly aware of the heat radiating from her skin, and the slight tremble in her hands as he guided her to the correct stance.

Clearing his throat and doing his best to tamp down the flames of his arousal and focus on the task at hand, he tried to teach Rosalind how to save her own life. The mere thought of anything happening to her sent a flash of pain through his heart that was unbearable. And he knew in that moment, he would protect her at all costs. Even if it meant paying the ultimate price.

Determined to see her safe, he moved her through the forms again, drilling the correct stances into her again and again. A thin sheen of sweat slicked her forehead, and her breath was ragged and thin. She was tired. But he felt the need to continue until her forms were perfect.

He looked at Rosalind’s flushed cheeks and saw the weariness in his eyes.

“Get some rest. We can continue this later.”

They laid down on the straw-covered pallets in the corner, but sleep did not come for Ellair. Instead, he laced his fingers behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, his memory flush with the feel of her body, the heat of her skin, and those soft, pillowy lips he longed to kiss.