Page 13 of Healing the Highland Sinner (Tales of the Maxwell Lasses #7)

CHAPTER 13

M orning dawned and after carefully checking the streets around the bolt hole and seeing they were clear, they headed back to the compound. Rosalind was exhausted and wrung out, wanting nothing more than a hot bath and some actual sleep. Ciar walked beside her, his hand on the hilt of his blade while Ellair walked ahead of them, ensuring their path remained clear. Ewan hadn’t been able to find them and had likely pulled his men home, but Rosalind didn’t want any surprises.

“Are ye all right?” Ciar asked.

“Aye. Just tired.”

Sleep hadn’t come to her the night before. Instead, she lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling remembering the warmth of Ellair’s breath on her cheek, the tautness of his body pressed to hers, and the feeling of his hands, so large and rough, guiding her through the motions. The heat in her belly had been so intense, she thought it might consume her whole. It still burned. She’d wanted, more than anything, than to fall into his arms, kiss him, and let him ravish her.

Thank God Ciar had been there. If he hadn’t, God knew what she would have let herself do. She knew she shouldn’t be having those sorts of feelings for Ellair. He was a hired blade. Nothing more. And once she had gotten through this temporary crisis, she would have no more need for him and would send him on his way. He was never meant to be a permanent part of her crew. He was simply there to lend some muscle and skill with a blade. A tool for her to use. The thought of sending him away, though, pained her and that troubled her deeply.

Rosalind had always been good at calculating risk and probabilities. Ciar called it her supernatural power, because she had always been able to sense ambushes before they happened and keep herself—and her crew—out of trouble. She just had a sixth sense about things and people. But one thing she’d not accounted for was Ellair. She had never expected to be attracted to the man as much as she was, never anticipated enjoying his lessons the way she did, or the warmth that exploded within her whenever he was around. He clouded her mind and robbed her of her senses.

Ellair was a skilled swordsman and a good teacher. Because of their lessons, she felt more confident with a blade in her hand than she ever had. She still had a long way to go before she was fully competent, but she felt like she was getting there.

The one thing he could not teach her though, was how to deal with the feelings that came with taking a life. Killing Ewan’s man in that warehouse had shaken her. More than she had admitted to Ellair. She felt a powerful wave of guilt swallowing her up even thinking about it then. Rationally, she knew it had been necessary, that it hadn’t been her fault since they had been set up. She’d done, as Ellair had said, what was necessary.

It had been him or her and she’d chosen herself, but even though Ellair said there was no guilt or dishonor in it, she couldn’t help but remember the way the man had looked as the life drained from his body. Couldn’t help but recall how dark and thick the pool of blood around him had been. She even remembered the smell of all that blood in excruciating detail. It was the first life she’d ever taken and God willing, it would be the last.

But she knew there were no guarantees in the life she led. Frankly, Rosalind was surprised she had made it as long as she had without being forced into taking a life as she had. It was why she had hired good and skilled men… so she wouldn’t have to do it. But now that seal had been broken and her hands were no longer clean.

Ciar put a hand on her shoulder, and she turned her face up to him. His smile was soft and gentle, and he peered into her eyes as if he knew what she was thinking. He likely did. The man had an infuriating way of being able to read her like a book.

“Ye had nay choice,” he said. “If ye hadnae acted, he would have, lass.”

A wan smile touched her lips. “And how dae ye ken what I’m thinkin’?”

“I can see the guilt in yer eyes. Ye dinnae hide yer emotions near as well as ye think ye dae.”

She laughed softly, though a ripple of worry ran through her at his words. If he could see the guilt that wracked her, what else could he see? Could he see the conflict inside of her about Ellair? Could he see her secret desires? Could he see the way the man made her knees weak and her belly churn? Could he see it all and was just being decent enough not to mention it?

“He acquitted himself well. Kept ye safe,” Ciar said, nodding to Ellair ahead of them.

“Aye. He did. He saved me life.”

“He seems tae be a good lad.”

She nodded. “Aye. He daes,” she replied. “And yet, I can hear the hesitation in yer voice.”

He turned his golden-hazel eyes to her, a warm smile on his lips. They walked in silence for a moment before she turned to him again, her expression curious. “What is it about him then? Why dae ye hesitate tae trust him?”

Ciar’s lips curled with a frown. “I dinnae like the way he looks at ye.”

“How so?”

“There’s just somethin’ in his eyes when he looks at ye… I cannae tell what it is,” he said. “It feels like he’s waitin’ fer somethin’.”

His frown spread to Rosalind’s face as she gazed at Ellair. “Fer what then?”

“I admit, I dinnae ken. But that look in his eye strikes me wrong, lass.”

“What is this look in his eye?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’m nae sure. But it’s possessive. It’s jealous. And he’s very good at hidin’ it. I’ll only see it in bits and flashes, but I’m trained tae really see people, tae see the threats and sometimes, when he looks at ye, ‘tis what I see. A threat.”

Ciar’s words rattled around in her mind, deepening her frown. “Is that what he is? A threat?”

“Maybe. I’m just nae sure yet.”

“If he was a threat who wanted tae see me dead, he’s had plenty of opportunities tae kill me,” she said. “He could have run me through in that warehouse and blamed it on Ewan’s men. ‘Twas a perfect setup. Instead, he took on four of them on his own tae protect me. Tae save me.”

A wry grin crossed the big man’s face. “And now ye see why I’m strugglin’ tae understand the man. He’s confoundin’ tae me in a lot of ways. But I ken men well enough tae ken that he’s hidin’ somethin’. That he’s nae all he presents himself tae be.”

“Are any of us?” she asked ruefully.

His chuckle was deep and rumbling. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

As guilty as she felt about it all, Rosalind was hiding something as well.

And she would do it all again, without hesitation. She would do whatever it took to get her brother back. Blaine was all that mattered to her. It was why she was there, doing things she never thought she would. Though some of what she’d done—was still doing—turned her stomach, she would continue if it meant getting Blaine back to her. They held his life in their hands, and she had no choice but to comply.

Ciar looked at her, his face clouded over with concern. “We’ll get him back, lass.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “I hope so.”

“Dinnae hope. Ken,” he said, his voice firm. “We will get yer braither back.”

“Aye,” she said, though without much conviction. Then, desperate to turn the conversation away from her source of enduring pain, she turned to him. “I want tae send Ellair tae collect the package Sinclair wants us tae move.”

“I was plannin’ on daein’ it meself.”

“Nay. Send Ellair. I dinnae trust Sinclair and want tae ken what it is we’re movin’.”

“’Tis nae the way this works. Ye ken that.”

“I ken. But I want tae ken anyway. There are some things the bleedin’ Highlanders should nae be havin’,” she said. “Send Ellair.”

“Ros—”

“It will be a good test,” she said. “It might finally let us ken if he’s truly trustworthy or nae.”

Ciar seemed to think it over then nodded and sighed heavily. “Aye. I’ll see he goes tae pick it up,” he said. “But I’m goin’ tae send a couple of men with him… tae keep him safe.”

She laughed softly. “Of course.”