Page 3 of Healing the Highland Sinner (Tales of the Maxwell Lasses #7)

CHAPTER THREE

W ith a cruel little smirk on her lips, she tightened her grip on the dagger as she stepped forward with the point of it aimed at his crotch. He smirked at her in return.

“Careful, lass,” he said. “I’ve already been pruned down there.”

“With a flick of me wrist, perhaps I’ll take the whole thing.”

He laughed. The man had a dagger aimed at his crotch and he laughed. “Ye may need a broadsword tae dae that, lass.”

“Watch yer bleedin’ tongue, boy,” Ciar growled.

Rosalind fought off the smile that threatened to curl her lips. The man was a rogue. But he wasn’t without a sense of humor, she had to give him that. He had a swagger and arrogance about him that she found intriguing. He was handsome and the sparkle in his eyes as he looked at her made Rosalind’s heart flutter like hummingbird wings. She did not normally have that sort of reaction to men, and it was confounding her.

The man was tall—just a couple inches shorter than Ciar, who was the tallest man Rosalind had ever met. His hair was so blond it was almost white and fell to his shoulders in waves. His eyes were a shade of blue, almost silver. He had a strong jawline, high cheekbones, and a long, patrician nose. He was thick through the chest and broad through the shoulders and had the look of a warrior about him. He was handsome. So handsome, Rosalind had to remind herself he was a potential enemy there to do her harm and to stop gaping at him like a besotted girl.

She caught Ciar looking at her strangely and cleared her throat, tearing her eyes away from the stranger. She raised her chin, adopting a look of defiance—not easy to do when you had to tilt your head up to look at the man. He seemed to notice and the corner of his mouth quirked upward, though he had the good grace to keep himself from laughing at the disparity between them.

“And what is it ye want…”

“Ellair,” he answered her unspoken question. “And what might yer name be, lass?”

“Me name is nae yer concern,” she replied sharply. “What is it yet want? Why have ye been followin’ us around like a lost puppy?”

He chuckled. “The name’s Ellair. And I’ve been followin’ ye around because truthfully, I’ve been tryin’ tae figure out how tae approach ye.”

“Approach me about what?”

“About a job,” he replied simply.

Rosalind cut her eyes to Ciar, who remained standing behind the stranger, his face hard and uneasy. He also looked wary and distrustful. But then, that seemed to be his default expression, so Rosalind tried to keep from reading too much into it.

“And why would ye come tae see me about a job then, eh?” she asked.

“Because I need the work and I heard ye pay well,” he replied. “Plus, ye need somebody with me skill with a blade.”

“Is that so?”

“Aye. ‘Tis so,” he said with a wink. “And maybe ye can use me other skills as well, eh?”

Ciar stepped forward, his face dark and twisted with anger. “I told ye tae watch yer filthy bleedin’ mouth. Ye need tae learn some respect.”

The man squared up and faced Ciar with a mischievous grin on his lips. That was new. Most men shrank from Ciar when he bore down on them. And for good reason. Not only was he a massive, hulking man. His skill with a blade was unrivaled. But this Ellair fellow was not intimidated in the least. Or at least, he put up a good show. His confidence was impressive and had Rosalind wondering if perhaps he was as skilled with a blade as he boasted.

She put a hand on Ciar’s broad chest. “’Tis fine. I dinnae think ye can teach this one respect if he’s nae learned it by now.”

“Apologies, me lady,” the man said with a slight but respectful bow. “I didnae mean tae give ye offense or offer any disrespect. Truly.”

“Ye should tell yer mouth that,” Ciar grumbled.

A grin flickered across Rosalind’s lips, but she hid it behind her hand until she got it under control. She cleared her throat and put on as sour of an expression as she could manage.

“Ye better learn tae control it or I’ll control it fer ye, boy.”

“Ye keep callin’ me boy,” Ellair said. “Ye realize we are probably the same age, eh?”

Ciar’s jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth and Rosalind feared he was going to attack the man. She put a hand on his broad chest and looked at him with an easy smile on her lips.

“Ciar,” Rosalind said. “Be easy.”

He stood his ground, glowering at Ellair for a moment before shifting his gaze to her then taking a step back, clearly displeased to do so. He had always been protective of her and Rosalind appreciated that about him. She knew she could always count on him to have her back. But sometimes he was too protective.

“Ciar is right, ye dae have quite the cheek on ye,” Rosalind said. “And one of these days, that cheek is goin’ tae get ye intae trouble ye may nae be able tae get out of.”

“Maybe. But I’m pretty capable of takin’ care of meself.”

“I’ve nay doubt,” Rosalind replied. “But I’m afraid we’ve got nay positions open on me crew, so I suggest ye sod off.”

“’Tis nae what I heard.”

“Then ye’ve heard wrong. Besides, ye wouldnae fit in with me crew.”

“Nay? And why is that?”

“For one thing, we work as a team. Me crew is one. And we’ve nay use fer people who think they ken better than us or try tae impress others by actin’ the fool,” she said. “And though ye may be amusin’ and perhaps even capable with a blade, ye strike me as the sort who daesnae work well with others. Hence, ye’re of nay use tae me.”

For the first time since she’d laid eyes on him, the man’s cocky grin slipped. He frowned and cleared his throat, and she could see his mind racing. Could see him trying to figure out some way to salvage this. He clearly needed the work. But could he be trusted? Rosalind wasn’t sure. And if she was unsure of somebody, she couldn’t afford to take him on.

Ciar cleared his throat to draw her attention then motioned for her to join him. She turned to the two men behind him.

“Watch this one, eh?” she said.

“Aye,” said one. “He’ll nae go nowhere.”

Rosalind followed Ciar down the alley, stepping far enough away so they wouldn’t be overheard. He turned to her, his face pensive.

“I hate tae say it, but we need more men,” he said, pitching his voice low. “We’re shorthanded on most days. ‘Tis worse since that bastard Gunn captured our men and threw them in his cells. We dinnae have enough men tae mount a proper raid. We go in with what we have now, we might get ourselves wiped out by Gunn’s patrols.”

“And ye think this Ellair fellow can help? I got the feelin’ ye dinnae like him.”

He grunted. “I dinnae like him. He’s too cocky and speaks tae ye in a way I dinnae like,” he said. “But I can tell by the way he moves that he’s familiar with a blade. He’s got the look of a warrior about him. I dinnae have tae like him tae work with him.”

Rosalind was not a warrior in the least. But Ciar was a fighter through and through and was her de facto war chief, so she was pleased that somebody so knowledgeable agreed with her initial assessment of the man.

“We ken nothin’ about this man,” Rosalind said. “With Laird Gunn lookin’ tae take us out, how can we trust him?”

“We cannae. Nae yet. But I think it’d be prudent tae find out,” he said softly. “As much as I hate tae say it, if his blade is as sharp as his mouth, we can use him. The men Gunn took were our best fighters and ye ken that.”

She knew losing those three men to Gunn had dealt them a heavy blow. They needed skilled fighters. For Ciar to advocate for a man he had such a demonstrable distaste for carried a lot of weight with her. It was something she had to listen to.

“All right,” she finally said. “I’ve got an idea.”

Rosalind turned and walked back to where the man stood. She stopped and looked him up and down, trying to assess him—and whether she’d gone mad for even considering the idea that had passed through her mind.

“All right, Ellair. Ye think ye’ve got what it takes tae fight alongside the finest men I’ve ever kent?” she asked.

“Aye. I ken I dae.”

“Then ye’ll need tae prove it,” she said with a devious grin.

“Aye? And how’d ye like me tae dae that?”

Rosalind turned to Ciar who was grinning wolfishly at her. They were often on the same page about most things, and she could see by the look on his face that he knew where this was going. He gave her a small nod of approval.

“If ye want tae be part of me crew, ye need tae earn yer way on,” Rosalind said.

“All right. And how dae ye want me tae dae that?”

She turned to Ciar and grinned. “Ye’ll have tae best Ciar in single combat.”

Ellair grinned. “Tae that, I say bring it on.”