Page 5 of Healing the Highland Sinner (Tales of the Maxwell Lasses #7)

CHAPTER FIVE

“ I dinnae ken if we can trust him,” Ciar said.

Rosalind stood on the end of the dock looking out at the sea. The horizon was beginning to lighten, but the world around her was still cloaked in the inky pre-dawn darkness. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, the corners of her lips turning upward in a soft smile as she took in the scent of the ocean. Rosalind loved the sea and never got tired of the heavy, salty air.

“Rosalind, did ye hear me?” Ciar pressed.

“Aye. I’m standin’ right next tae ye, of course I heard ye.”

“Well? What dae ye think?”

“I dinnae ken either. He’s an excellent fighter. Obviously,” Rosalind replied with a shrug of her shoulders and looked at the big man.

Ciar flushed, the corners of his mouth flickering with a frown. “Aye. He’s capable in a scrap, nay denyin’ that. But I’m more worried about him turnin’ on us and plantin’ a dagger in yer back.”

“I can take care of meself.”

Ciar pulled a face as he looked at her. Rosalind’s cheeks flushed and she quickly looked away. She knew she was not good with a blade and couldn’t actually, take care of herself if it came down to a fight. She had never enjoyed the smuggling world, even less dealing with it herself. It was not suitable for a woman and she was well aware of it, which was why she tried to keep her late husband’s death a secret and worked under his name. But she had felt compelled to find a way to protect herself, so Ciar had been training her. Progress had been slow.

“I mean, I will be able tae take care of meself,” she said. “But Ellair daesnae need tae ken that. I need him tae fear me.”

“Of course,” Ciar replied.

“And I think taeday will tell us whether we can trust him or nae.”

The man frowned but nodded. “Aye. Maybe so.”

“Dinnae worry, all will be well,” she said. “If we cannae trust him, then dispatch him.”

“Gladly.”

“But nae until we ken, Ciar. I mean it,” she said sternly. “Ye’re the first tae say we’ve got a lack of capable fightin’ men and ye ken better than any of us that this man is capable with a blade. He’s already one foot in, if only by kenning a woman stands behind the organization now.”

The man scowled and his face darkened. It was the first time Rosalind had ever seen Ciar bested in combat before. And judging by the look on his face, it still stung. Losing a fight was an uncommon experience for the man. But despite his displeasure, she couldn’t help but see a begrudging respect in his eyes. It was almost imperceptible, his overriding concern being her welfare and watching her back, but it was there all the same.

“Aye. He’s capable,” he grumbled. “He’s also here.”

Rosalind turned and watched Ellair sauntering up the dock, a crooked grin on his face. He stood before her, hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword, shoulders back, chin raised, radiating arrogance from his every pore. Rosalind frowned.

“Ye’re walkin’ like yer jewels are feelin’ better,” she said.

His smile faltered for a brief moment, but he quickly pulled it back onto his lips, keeping his cloak of arrogance wrapped snugly around him.

“Aye. Feelin’ right as rain,” he said.

Ciar harumphed and turned away, though not before Rosalind had seen the small smirk steal across his lips.

“So,” Ellair said. “What are we daein’ taeday?”

“Ye’re daein’ what ye’re told tae dae and keepin’ yer mouth shut otherwise,” she said sharply.

He gave her a sweeping, comical bow. “As me lady wishes.”

“They come,” Ciar said, his voice a deep rumble.

A small galley steered toward the dock where they stood, and a man jumped off and quickly tied the vessel off. Four other men tucked their oars away and clambered onto the dock alongside him. Several large crates were stacked in the back of the small boat, though none of them made a move to offload them.

“Good mornin’,” Rosalind said.

“Is it?” the man sneered.

The man who’d stepped off the boat stepped to Rosalind and scowled at her. Well short of the height and width of both Ciar and Ellair, he was lean and wiry. Threads of gray wound through his dark hair as well as the stubble on his face. One eye was milky and permanently squinted, and a scar ran from the corner of it, disappearing into the hairline behind his ear.

“These troubled times are makin’ it hard fer me and mine tae slip about, Mistress Widow,” he said, his voice high and screechy.

“And ye are well compensated fer yer troubles already,” Rosalind replied.

“Aye. We were,” he replied. “But given the troubles in the lands and how much of a risk we’re takin’ smugglin’ in yer goods, I think it’s time we renegotiate our rates.”

“Bleedin’ bastard,” Ciar growled and took a step forward.

Rosalind held a hand up, silently telling him to stay back. Ciar did as ordered but lowered his hands, resting them near the hilt of the twin swords on his hips. She glanced at Ellair who remained where he was, standing casually, but his eyes were alert and aware. He was watching closely and Rosalind could see by his stance and the way his shoulders were tensed, he was like a snake, coiled and ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

Rosalind turned back to the smuggler. “We had an agreement.”

“Aye. We did,” he replied smarmily. “But situations change. Me and me men are takin’ on more risk and facin’ more danger with all the troubles in the lands. Which means, that as the situation changes, so too, must our rates.”

“Ye assured me?—”

“I assured ye of naethin’,” he sneered. “Ye’ve been playin’ this game long enough tae ken how it’s played. If ye want yer goods, ye’ll have tae pay me new price.”

“Ye gave me yer word?—”

“That was before I lost a couple of good men,” he cut her off. “That changed things.”

“Aye. It means yer share is bigger without a couple of extra hands out,” Ellair said.

Rosalind and the smuggler turned to face Ellair, then turned back to each other. The smuggler’s face twisted and darkened, his scowl deepening.

“And who in the hell is he?” he grunted.

“Naebody of any import,” Rosalind said. “And somebody who should learn tae keep his bleedin’ mouth shut in affairs that are nae his own.”

Ellair shrugged. “Apologies, me lady. I just dinnae like seein’ people bein’ taken advantage of. And ‘tis hard fer me tae keep me mouth shut when I see it.”

“So says the man who fights fer who pays the most coin,” Rosalind sneered.

“We all have tae make a livin’,” he said with a shrug. “I’m well compensated fer me services, but I never take advantage of people. Nor dae I go back on me word. If I give me word, I honor it. I dinnae slink back in like a snake and demand more money I’m nae entitled tae.”

“Who in the bleedin’ hell dae ye think ye are?” the smuggler sneered.

“A man with more honor in me little toe than ye’ve got in yer entire miserable, stinkin’ body. That’s who I am.”

Rosalind put her hand up. “Enough of this foolishness. What is yer new rate fer me goods?”

The man glared at Ellair for a moment longer before snorting in derision and turning back to Rosalind. He licked his lips, his eyes aflame with greed.

“Double,” he said. “’Twas nae goin’ tae be that much, but yer man there got me hackles up. Upset me, he did. So ye’ve got tae pay the price. Maybe then, yer men’ll learn tae keep their stupid mouths shut, eh?”

“Double?” Ellair scoffed. “Bollocks.”

“Got more tae say, dae ye? Fine. Triple.”

“Ellair, stop,” Rosalind ordered firmly then turned back to the smuggler. “I’ll nae be payin’ double. I’ll give ye ten percent more than we originally agreed upon and nae a coin more.”

“Then I guess ye dinnae want yer goods.”

The man turned his back but Rosalind grabbed him by the arm. He wheeled around and shoved her back into Ciar, the pair tangling and tumbling to the ground. The smuggler pulled a dagger from his belt and stepped forward, a murderous glint in his eye. But then Ellair was there between them, parrying the smuggler’s thrusts and slices with his sword. The high-pitched ring of steel on steel echoed in her ears as she watched Ellair drive the man back toward the boat.

But then he was surrounded by the rest of the men. All held long, wooden staffs like he’d fought Ciar with the night before and had wicked grins on their faces. Moving as one, they rushed Ellair but the man was fluid and graceful in his movements, slashing and parrying, spinning around the thrusting staffs, then the men themselves. As he got out of the circle, he drove his foot into the back of the knee of the man nearest him, who went down with a hard grunt.

Ellair brought his blade back up just in time to deflect another staff thrust at his face. As he turned the blade aside, he stepped forward and drove the heel of his boot into the midsection of the man who’d just tried to take his head off. The man gasped as the air was driven from his lungs, then went down hard on his backside.

“I’ll kill ye!”

The captain of the smuggling vessel streaked toward Ellair, his blade held high and a grin like a demon upon his face. Moving casually, Ellair spun around the man’s blade, grabbed him by the wrist and bent it at an awkward angle backward. The smuggler screamed and his dagger hit the dock with a hard clatter. Ellair wasted no time in smashing the hilt of his sword into the man’s face once-twice-three times, then let his limp, unconscious body fall to the dock.

The four men were on him again, but Ellair moved with a dizzying gracefulness and it wasn’t long before five prone forms littered the area, all of them out cold. Once he had the situation fully in hand, he stepped back to where the smuggler captain lay sleeping and raised his blade to strike. Rosalind threw her hand up.

“Hold,” she said.

Ellair turned to her. “Eh? Hold why? This man tried tae kill ye,” he said, then glared at Ciar. “And thanks fer yer help, mate. Bleedin’ brilliant ye were.”

Ciar helped Rosalind to her feet. She dusted herself off, doing her best to keep the smile off her face. Ciar couldn’t stop the laugh that rumbled out of his throat. And as Ellair looked at them both, she saw the light of realization dawning in his eyes, shining as brightly as the sun, which had just begun clawing its way over the horizon.

“This was a test,” he said. “A bleedin’ test of me skill and loyalty. Is that it?”

Rosalind shrugged. “Aye. These are all me men. Ye must understand, we have tae be sure of who we let come work fer us. We had tae see if last night was just a fluke or if ye’re really that skilled. Because make nay mistake, Ellair, we need men with real skill.”

“And loyalty,” Ciar added.

“Aye. We need both,” she said. “Ye’ve got skill with the blade, nay question. Ye showed that last night was nay fluke.”

“We’ve still got questions about yer loyalty though,” Ciar grumbled.

The fact that the man had stepped forward and put himself in danger for her when he had no real cause to, was, she thought, telling. It made her consider whether he was somebody she could trust, rather than merely an opportunist looking to pad his purse with coin. She wanted to believe he could fit with her crew. Something inside of her wanted to trust him. But something was making her hesitate at the same time. And she had not gotten as far as she had in her life by ignoring her instincts.

“All right. Ye’ve earned a spot. Fer now. Ye’ll still be needin’ tae prove yerself worthy of that spot, but for the moment, ye’ll come tae live in me house with me, Ciar and a few others. Ye’ll be given a bed and hot meals,” she said. “As far as yer job goes, ye’ll have nay responsibilities other than what Ciar and I tell ye tae dae. Ye’re me new sword hand and that’s all. I dinnae require yer thoughts or yer counsel. In fact, I want neither. The less ye speak, the better, though I ken that may be a challenge fer ye.”

He flashed her a grin. “I’ll dae me best tae?—”

“Ye’re off tae a bad start already, lad,” Ciar said.

“Right,” Ellair replied. “Apologies.”

“Ye’ll earn the wage we pay tae all newcomers and in time, if ye prove yerself, ye can put yerself in line for a raise. Is that fair?” she asked.

“Aye. ‘Tis fair enough,” he replied.

“Good. Then go and get yer things from the inn where ye’re bunkin’ and come tae me house,” she said. “’Tis three streets over?—”

“I ken where it is,” he said.

She arched and eyebrow and looked at him. He shrugged and flashed her that cocky, lopsided grin that put a strange flutter in her heart.

“Just as ye need tae ken who ye’re workin’ with, so dae I,” he said. “I’d be pretty poor at me job if I didnae look intae things on me own.”

“I suppose nae,” she said with a grin. “Go then. Collect yer things and come to me home.”

Rosalind couldn’t take her eyes off him as he turned and sauntered away. There was something about him that was bothering her. He was skilled and had passed their loyalty test, but the way he looked at her, his eyes probing and thoughtful… she felt something calculating about him. She didn’t necessarily get the sense he would stab her in the back—literally or figuratively—but she caught a whiff of something else. As if Ellair was not who he made himself out to be.

“We should go,” Ciar said. “The fight is gatherin’ eyes and we cannae afford tae stand here all day.”

Luckily for them, the captain and his men began to stir and come awake. He looked up at her and rubbed his head.

“Bleedin’ hell, Rosey. Did he have tae bonk me noggin’ so hard?”

She laughed. “Get on yer boat and get out of here. People are comin’.”

“Aye,” he said and began hauling his men to their feet.

Ciar put his hand on the small of her back and shepherded her away from the dock and the gathering crowd. She pulled her hood up, hiding herself in the shadows, while shutting out the curious eyes of all those around her. Power on the docks was in constant flux. You might have it one day only to find yourself on the wrong end of a sword and losing it the next. At that the moment, she was the undisputed power in the harbor, which meant there were many who sought to knock her off the perch and claim it for themselves, employing any means necessary.

It was why she needed strength and skill in her swordsmen. But most of all, she needed loyalty. She needed to be able to lay her head down at night knowing that those who surrounded her, who were sworn to protect her, would not turn on her because they received better offers. And that was why she paid as well as she did. To make sure that those who remained loyal to her felt her appreciation.

As they made their way through the streets and away from the docks, her mind remained conflicted.

“Are ye all right, lass?” Ciar asked.

“Aye. I’m fine. Just tired.”

“When we get back, ye should take a nap.”

She nodded. “I think I’ll dae that. ‘Tis a good idea.”

However, she knew sleep was not going to come easy to her for she could not stop thinking about Ellair. Worse, whenever she did think of him and saw those icy blue eyes of his in her mind’s eye, she could not stop the flutter of hummingbird wings that shot through her heart.

The man was confounding to her in so many ways.