Page 6 of Healing the Highland Sinner (Tales of the Maxwell Lasses #7)

CHAPTER SIX

R osalind finished preparing the evening meal and left the pot to warm in the hearth as Ciar set the table. As she dried her hands on a rag, she noticed he was only laying out three settings at the table and looked around.

“Where is everybody?” she asked.

“The new lad is up in his room, Colin and Mackay are out at the tavern taenight, I expect,” he said. “They were havin’ a bet on who could bed the new tavern wench first.”

Rosalind rolled her eyes. Ciar was her most trusted ally, but Colin and Mackay were both solid lieutenants. They were good fighters, good soldiers, and she never had to worry about their loyalty. They were both a bit too keen on the ale and women, but everybody had their vices, she supposed.

“I made enough stew fer everybody,” she grumbled.

“I’ll eat their share. I’m hungry as an ox,” Ciar said.

“Ye smell like one too,” she teased. “I suggest ye go and wash up before supper.”

“What about the new lad?”

“I’ll fetch him. This time anyway,” she said. “He’ll have tae learn if he’s nae down here when I lay the food, ye’ll eat his share.”

“Bleedin’ right I will.”

She headed for the stairs then paused and turned back to Ciar. “He is goin’ tae work out. Ye’ll see.”

Ciar pulled a face. “Are ye sayin’ that tae convince me or yerself?”

Rosalind studied him for a moment and realized she didn’t actually have an answer to that question, so she turned and headed upstairs. She walked down the long hallway to Ellair’s door and knocked, then opened it and stepped inside. A surprised gasp burst from her mouth, and she stood frozen with her hand on the doorknob, staring at the half naked man in front of her.

“What are ye daein’?” she nearly shrieked.

Wearing nothing but his boots and breeches, Ellair turned around and snapped his fingers.

“And ye just missed me without me breeches on,” he teased.

A choked gasp burst from her mouth and Rosalind felt her face grow boiling hot. Her cheeks were no doubt an unnatural shade of red and her stomach clenched. She stared at him, knowing she should turn away, but powerless to move. Her gaze was locked on his toned and chiseled torso, sliding along the taut, corded muscles in his arms and the abdomen that seemed to have been carved out of stone.

“Wh—what are ye doin’?” was all she could stammer again.

His grin was wolfish, his icy blue eyes sparkling with mischief… and something more. Something that set those gossamer wings brushing the inside of her heart and stomach once more.

“Unless I’m mistaken, this is the room ye assigned tae me, isnae it?”

“Well… umm... aye?”

“Well, ‘tis me understandin’ that people, when they’re alone in their rooms, tend tae dae things like get changed,” he said.

Rosalind remained rooted to her spot, unable to move or to tear her eyes away from his body. She felt her stomach churning and the more intimate parts of her body begin to warm. She had never had much use for men in her life. She had married for convenience and wasn’t a woman who needed a man to feel whole and she had probably spent so much time around them, seeing them for who and what they were, that she had become jaded to the notion of love and relationships.

She had met many a man who’d wanted to bed her, but Rosalind had rebuffed them all. It wasn’t in her nature to give herself away to somebody who did not hold her heart. Thus, she had turned all feeling inside of her off long ago. She’d shuttered her desire for companionship, as well as plain carnal desire. She had resigned herself to a life without either. And she was all right with that. There were more important considerations.

But there was something about this man in front of her, looking like one of the Greek gods from legend, that set something ablaze within her. The insides of her thighs grew hot and slick and her heart was beating so hard, she half-feared it might explode within her chest. Ellair simply looked at her with that cocky grin, as if he could read her mind and could smell the desire wafting off her.

“Could ye put on some clothes?” she asked.

“Am I distractin’ ye, me lady?”

“Put on a shirt, Ellair.”

He laughed but pulled a shirt on as she’d asked. It didn’t help. Despite the thick woolen fabric of his shirt covering his torso, Rosalind could still see the hard angles and planes and the tightly corded muscles of his body in her mind’s eye, as if it had been permanently etched there.

“Can I ask ye somethin’?” Ellair said.

She cleared her throat and folded her arms over her chest, trying to adopt a stern, cold expression. She wasn’t entirely certain she was successful. If nothing else, she was attempting to keep herself from looking like a besotted little girl.

“What?” she asked.

“Why did ye test me down on the docks like that? If I’d lost, it might have embarrassed me a little. But the fact that I overcame five of yer men had tae be embarrassin’ fer ye. If only a little,” he said. “And I ken that power down in the harbor is based largely on perception. People see ye as the strongest because ye’ve got the strongest people workin’ fer ye. People are goin’ tae find out five of yer men were bested by one. Will that nae lead people tae think ye’re weakened?”

“People think I’m the strongest because I’ve got the strongest people workin’ fer me.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Dae ye though?”

She grinned. “Besides, those men ye bested dinnae work fer me. Nae really. They dae a job fer me now and then, but they’re nae in me usual employ.”

“Ye pay them tae get beat in public?”

She shrugged. “If it serves a purpose. And findin’ out if ye’re as handy with a blade as ye seem tae think ye are served a purpose,” she looked at him for a second and then she continued. “Now, answer me a question.”

“Ask it.”

“What brought ye here tae me in the first place?”

“I told ye, I am in need of work. I heard ye pay well for skilled and talented swordsmen, and so, here I am.”

He’d replied with his usual cocky swagger, but he’d hesitated for a moment before speaking and looked away. But to Rosalind, that brief silence was telling and made her think that whatever was about to come out of his mouth was a lie. Or at least, wasn’t the full truth.

Ciar had questioned why she had brought him into the house when she knew she couldn’t fully trust him. He was cautious and wary, and with good reason. But by bringing him into the house, she would be able to keep a close eye on him and in time, she would hopefully be able to unravel his secrets. Maybe then she could find a way to trust him. Or decide she could have Ciar dispatch him. Until such a time though, she would keep him at an arm’s length and keep a wary eye on him.

“So, now that we’re better acquainted and I am officially in yer employ, dae I get the pleasure of havin’ yer name? Or are ye goin’ tae force me tae keep callin’ ye the Widow?”

Rosalind smiled softly. “Me name is Rosalind. Me friends call me Rosey.”

“Aye. Well then, Rosey?—”

“I said me friends called me Rosey. Ye may call me Rosalind.”

Her eyes glittered dangerously and she gave him a cruel little smirk as if challenging him. Ellair grinned and put a hand to his chest, clownishly miming a shooting pain through his heart like she’d wounded him deeply. But then he gave her one of his comical, flourishing bows while doffing an imaginary hat.

“Well, Rosalind, ‘tis a pleasure tae make yer acquaintance?—”

His words were cut off by a loud banging crash downstairs that was followed by the sound of Ciar’s agonized shout.

“Ciar,” she gasped.

Her eyes widened and her heart stuttering, she turned and bolted from the room, terrified and saying a silent prayer that Ciar was all right.