Page 19 of Healing the Highland Sinner (Tales of the Maxwell Lasses #7)

CHAPTER 19

E llair lay on the hard packed earth beneath him, bleeding from what felt like a thousand different wounds. He groaned in agony, every square inch of his body hurting. As he stared up at the ceiling, awaiting the cold embrace of death, he heard the muffled sound of voices. It sounded as if he was hearing people arguing while underwater. He gave himself a small shake and grimaced, regretting the slightest bit of movement. But he turned his head, his eyes widening.

“Cormac,” he said, his voice thick and sounding strange in his own ears.

His twin brother stood arguing with a man whose face he couldn’t make out. The edges were blurry, his face obscure. He didn’t know who Cormac was arguing with, but they were both yelling ferociously. They sounded very far away, their voices as blurry and indistinct as the second man’s face. He strained his ears but couldn’t pick out their words. The air inside the small chamber where he lay was charged with bad energy and the harsh whisper of violence.

“Cormac,” he called.

His brother turned to him, a slow smile spreading across his face. Cormac knelt at his bedside and took his hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Rest now, braither,” Cormac said, his voice echoing strangely. “Everythin’ will be all right. Ye just get some rest and heal yerself.”

He gripped his brother’s hand tighter, drawing strength from him. Cormac was the only person he had in the world, and they had leaned on each other throughout their lives. As he looked into Cormac’s stormy blue eyes, he understood where he was. Memory flooded into him, and he knew they had been taken captive after a vicious battle. He knew he lay dying. And if not for his brother, his sacrifice, Ellair might have died.

“Heal yerself, braither,” Cormac said.

Something felt different. Off. Ellair looked around, trying to understand the strange feeling that stole over him. He recognized the room and the scenario all too well. Indeed, it was a situation that had been burned into his memory. But something felt… different. The faraway sound of Cormac’s voice that echoed in his ears almost didn’t seem real.

“What is happenin’, braither?” Ellair groaned.

“Rest now,” he replied.

Cormac’s eyes widened suddenly, and his face grew slack. His grip on Ellair’s fist tightened, his eyes turning glassy and taking on the same faraway, distant quality his voice had.

“Cormac—”

Blood spilled from his brother’s mouth and Ellair watched in horror as the point of a sword burst from Cormac’s chest, a river of blood flowing from the wound. Ellair cried out, tears racing down his face as his brother’s grip on his hand loosened and faded. He watched in horror as Cormac’s limp, lifeless body slipped to the ground…

Ellair sat bolt upright, a shrill scream bursting from his mouth. He turned, looking all around the room in a near panic as he struggled to recall where he was. His heart leaped into his throat as the door to his room burst open. A thin robe pulled around her, Rosalind rushed in. She held a dagger in hand, her head turning left and right as she scanned the chamber, seemingly ready for battle.

“Ellair,” she called. “What’s the matter?”

His breathing harsh and ragged, Ellair looked around the chamber as the fragmented memories of his dream fluttered away. He felt his grip on the world around him solidifying. He was in Rosalind’s compound. He was here at the behest of Laird Gunn and his own laird. He wasn’t in that room he’d survived so long ago. He closed his eyes then let out a long, trembling breath.

“I—I’m sorry,” he said. “’Twas a dream. Just a dream.”

“Bleedin’ hell, the way ye were screamin’, I thought someone was in here guttin’ ye.”

God, he felt foolish. “I’m sorry, Rosalind. I didnae mean tae frighten ye.”

She set her dagger down on the table and turned sympathetic eyes to him. She then walked over and sat on the edge of the bed and stared into Ellair’s eyes for a long, quiet moment. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze, much the same way Cormac had in his dream. He shuddered, half afraid he was going to see a sword burst through her chest as well. Ellair clenched his jaw and tried to push away the terrible memories.

“What were ye dreamin’ about that had ye screamin’ so loud?” she asked.

He blew out a small breath. “I dreamt of me braither bein’ killed… because of me.”

“Oh, Ellair, I’m sorry,” she said. “Is he?—”

“Nay. Nay,” he replied softly. “He’s fine. Alive and well. ‘Twas just a dream.”

“Why dae ye think ye dream of his death like that then?”

He shrugged. “Probably because I feel guilty.”

“Guilty about what?”

Ellair looked into her eyes and saw a warmth he had never seen there before. It made his heart swell, and he became very aware of the way his hand felt in hers. Her hand felt warm, her skin soft and smooth. A heat bloomed between them and Ellair’s heart pounded in his ears. For the first time in his life, he wanted to open up to somebody. The burden he had carried for so long suddenly felt heavy. It felt suffocating.

But he wasn’t there to open up to her. He was there to do a job and although he’d come to believe she was not what Laird Gunn thought her to be, he still had work to do. And yet, there was an openness in her face he’d not seen before. A vulnerability. She wanted him to open up to her, perhaps because she wanted to open up to him as well. And there was nothing Ellair wanted more than to share with her. To grow closer to her.

Despite his mind screaming at him to pull back, to focus on his job and nothing more, he felt something inside of him shift. His had been such a lonely existence and for the first time in his life, he found himself wanting to be close to somebody. He knew because of his situation and because of his mission, he could not share everything. But perhaps, he could lighten his burden, if only a little.

“Me braither made terrible sacrifices fer me,” he said slowly. “He did terrible things tae help keep me alive.”

Her face clouded over. “What did he dae?”

The memory of what his brother had to do for him was like a dagger in his heart. He knew he couldn’t tell her all the details without giving himself away and frowned. But the glimmer in Rosalind’s eyes and the look of care upon her face lightened it. A little. Seeing her concern for him helped ease some of the burden he carried.

“It daesnae matter,” he said. “We both came through it all right. He’s daein’ well now and I couldnae be happier. He deserves a good life.”

“As dae ye.”

He shrugged. “I’m livin’ the life I was meant tae live. I’ve got nay complaints.”

Ellair held her gaze as he spoke, his heart swelling. Rosalind’s hand grew warmer and the energy that crackled between them grew, making him feel almost… giddy.

“I sometimes have nightmares too,” she admitted.

“About what happened tae yer people?” he asked gently. “Tae yer husband?”

She nodded. “But sometimes, I see just him. And he’s tellin’ me that he is all right. That he wants me tae find joy in life again. I think when I’m havin’ me nightmares, he visits me just tae help me turn me bad dreams intae somethin’ more pleasant.”

The words were thick and filled with pain as she spoke. He knew how much it pained her to speak of her lost husband and how much it was taking for her to let him in. They both carried deep wounds and scars upon their hearts and Ellair felt, for the first time, that she was letting him into her emotional walls by showing him her pain. By showing him that as different as they were, that in some ways, they were the same. That their shared grief bonded them.

“What was he like?” he asked. “Yer husband.”

A fond smile stretched across her lips and a warm laugh trickled from her mouth. “He was a good man. Smart. Witty. Clever. He never failed tae get a laugh out of me when he thought I was bein’ too serious,” she said. “In some ways, he was a lot like ye.”

“How so?”

“He didnae take life too seriously. He preferred tae laugh than dwell in misery.”

“Life is hard. Sometimes, all we can dae is laugh.”

“He said that sometimes too.”

They sat together in silence for a moment, their gazes locked, and a warm feeling blooming between them. Ellair’s eyes traced her soft, delicate features. The desire to lean forward and kiss her grew, filling him completely. Her eyes shimmered in the gloomy light of his room and in the silence, he heard her breath catch in her throat as, for a long, tense moment, they seemed to be drawn forward, leaning into each other, surrendering to the desire that seemed to be overwhelming them both.

Rosalind caught herself though and abruptly pulled back. She licked her lips and cleared her throat.

“I should go,” she said. “Let ye get some sleep.”

“Aye,” he replied quietly. “Thank ye fer checkin’ on me and I’m sorry tae have startled ye with me carryin’ on like I did.”

“’Tis nae yer fault. We cannae control who and what visits us in our slumber.”

“Nay. I suppose we can’t.”

She stood up and looked down at him, her gaze lingering upon him. Rosalind’s lips parted and she looked like she had something more to say, but then closed her mouth again and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Ellair lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to quell the tempest of thought and emotion raging within him.

As close as he’d felt to Rosalind in that moment, knowing that he was deceiving her made him feel more alone than he’d ever felt in his life.