Page 9 of Healing the Highland Sinner (Tales of the Maxwell Lasses #7)

CHAPTER NINE

“ W hat is this about?” she asked.

Ellair flashed her a grin. “I want tae show ye somethin’.”

“What?”

“Just come with me.”

“Where are we goin’?”

Ellair sighed. “Dae ye always ask this many questions?”

“Aye. I dae. Especially when ye’re draggin’ me away without tellin’ me where we’re goin’.”

“Just… trust me. We’re daein’ this fer yer own good.”

On horseback, Ellair led her out of town and up into the hills that surrounded Thurso. When he was planning this, he’d found a secluded area that would serve his purposes well. Over the last couple of weeks, Rosalind had been taking him on her errands more frequently. It was likely because Ciar was still injured, his wound taking longer to heal than expected, but Ellair had used the time well, doing his best to work his way into her good graces. He had been doing everything in his power to get her to trust and rely on him. And he thought he was almost there.

The sun had just crested the distant horizon when he led her off the well-trodden path and onto a smaller one that led deeper into the hills. As they slipped behind some tall rocks and disappeared from view, he could sense that she was growing uneasy. He cast a look back at her and saw the unease he was feeling all over her face. He chuckled.

“What are ye afraid of?” he asked.

“Why are ye leadin’ me back intae the bleedin’ hills like this?”

“Are ye afraid I’m goin’ tae kill ye and hide yer body among the rocks?”

“Are ye plannin’ tae kill me and hide me body?”

“Probably nae.”

She pulled a face but chuckled despite herself. “Seriously. What are we daein’?”

“I’m plannin’ tae make ye better at yer job.”

“And how dae ye plan on daein’ that then, eh?”

He rounded the bend and led them into a large clearing that stood in the shadow of a massive stone outcropping, forming a natural amphitheater of sorts. With the stone wall at their back, they could not be seen, let alone snuck up on, as there was no view from the town below. It would be difficult, if not impossible for anybody to know they were there. Ellair climbed down off his horse then motioned to Rosalind.

“Here we are,” he said.

“And where is this?”

“Climb down.”

She was tense but she did as he said anyway. Ellair took her reins and led their horses over to a spot where there was plenty of grass for them to eat and a small brook that cut through the stone, allowing them to take water as well. After he’d tied them off, he unstrapped the pack he’d tied to his saddle before they left that morning. Carrying it into the middle of the amphitheater, he dropped it on the ground then untied it, revealing the cache of wooden sparring weapons he’d brought.

“What is this?” she asked.

“If ye’re goin’ tae hold on tae what ye have, ye’re goin’ tae need tae learn tae wield a blade,” he said. “There may come a time when yer life depends on kennin’ how tae fight.”

“What? I can fight.”

He pulled a face and arched an eyebrow at her. “Come now, lass. I ken ye cannae.”

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. But she still didn’t seem ready or willing to admit that she could not handle a blade, as if it was a source of shame for her. Ellair had to make her understand it was not something to be ashamed of. It was something to work on. To improve. Everybody started somewhere in their training and this, if she wanted to survive, should be her starting point.

“When ye took me tae meet with that prissy arse wearin’ all them silks—Evander, was it?”

She nodded and grinned ruefully. “Aye. ‘Tis Evander.”

“I kent after that meetin’ that ye didnae ken how tae fight. That ye barely ken how tae hold a dagger proper,” he said. “Of course, it only confirmed what I already kent.”

She frowned, her look of embarrassment deepening. Rosalind lowered her head and shifted on her feet. She seemed to be thinking about his words, then finally raised her head.

“And how did ye ken?” she asked.

“In me line of work, ye learn tae figure out pretty fast who can and cannae fight,” he said. “Ye learn tae size people up in the blink of an eye because yer life depends on it. That first night I met ye, in the alley, I saw the way ye held yer dagger and kent ye werenae a fighter.”

“I could’ve taken yer jewels that night.”

“Aye. But ye were standin’ so close, ye couldnae have missed. Also, I wasnae lookin’ tae fight ye,” he told her. “In a real fight though, I would’ve had that dagger out of yer hand before ye could’ve even said jewels.”

“So, what? Ye’re goin’ tae teach me?”

Ellair nodded. “Aye. I’m goin’ tae teach ye.”

“Ciar has been tryin’. Daesnae seem tae be takin’.”

“I’m sure there are many things Ciar does well. I dinnae get the feelin’ that teachin’ is one of them,” Ellair said with a chuckle.

“He isnae the most patient man in the world,” she admitted.

Ellair grinned as he squatted down and picked out a pair of wooden daggers. He stood and walked over to where she stood and handed her one. She ran her fingers over the smooth, dark wood then looked up, a curious expression on her face.

“Where did ye find all these?” she asked.

“I’m a resourceful man. I can usually figure out where tae find what I need.”

“Been plannin’ this fer a while, eh?”

“Aye. Fer a bit.”

“Why now?”

“I had tae wait until ye trusted me a bit more,” he said. “Plus, things seem tae be gettin’ dicier. Every time we go and meet with yer merchants and the other bosses in town, I see more dark looks. I hear more whispers. It’s likely only a matter of time before somebody decides tae be bold enough tae come fer ye. I want ye tae be prepared fer it.”

That was part of it. The part he wouldn’t admit to her was that as they’d grown closer over the past few weeks, the thought of her being wounded, or worse, had begun to tear at him. The closer he felt to her, the more unbearable the thought of something happening to her became. Just thinking about it sent a sharp lance of pain through his heart. He didn’t understand why that was, but the only way he could move past it was to help prepare her for what might come. Ready her to fight.

“All right,” he said. “Take a fightin’ stance.”

He watched as she crouched at the knees, feet spread apart to lower her center of gravity, the dagger in her dominant hand, her other hand out to keep her balanced. He nodded.

“Nae bad,” he said. “Yer posture is good.”

She smiled, seemingly pleased with herself.

“But the way ye’re holdin’ that dagger is garbage,” he said.

“It is nae,” she said.

“Nay?”

She shook her head. “Nay.”

“Come at me then. Try tae stab me.”

She rushed at him, the dagger in her right hand. Ellair had to keep himself from laughing, but as she closed in, he slapped her hand hard, sending the wooden dagger flying. She stopped in her tracks and turned, watching her blade tumbling end over end before it landed in the dirt five feet away from her with a hard thud.

“Bleedin’ hell,” she muttered.

Ellair flashed her a smile then walked over and picked up her dagger and brought it back to her. She took it from him with a frown then rubbed her wrist.

“That hurt,” she said.

“Believe me, that didnae hurt near as much as a blade in the guts would hurt.”

“Fair enough,” she said with a wry twist of her lips.

“All right, now let’s work on yer stance and grip.”

He stepped behind her and moved her feet and hands into a proper fighting position. As he moved her body into the position he wanted, Ellair was keenly aware of the floral scent in her hair and on her skin. It was subtle but heady and he was having a hard time focusing. With her scent filling his nose, he also felt the heat of her body. It radiated from her and seeped into him, warming him from the outside in.

He cleared his throat as he took her hand and positioned it to give her the right grip. Her skin was soft and smooth. It felt like his fingers were sliding across silk, soft and supple. The feel of her flesh—her body—pressed so closely to his sent waves of desire flowing through his veins. He felt the pressure building up low inside of him as his arousal stirred, and he knew if he did not step away from her, she was going to feel just how much it was being stirred.

He moved away from her, albeit reluctantly, then stood in front of her. Ellair ran a hand over his face and took a moment, ostensibly assessing her form when in reality, he was biting the inside of his cheek hard enough he tasted his own blood, while giving himself a few beats to quell the flames burning inside of him.

“Are ye all right?” she asked.

“Aye. Just making sure of yer form.” His voice was thick and husky, but he nodded. “Good. Now, come at me again.”

She rushed at him again, just as before, but this time, when he slapped her wrist, he wasn’t able to dislodge the dagger. She brushed off the slap and held it firmly in her hand and raised it to his throat with a toothy smile. Ellair laughed and nodded.

“Good. ‘Tis very good,” he said.

She stepped back, her smile widening. Their eyes met and for a moment, the air between them felt charged. The hair on his arms stood up and it felt like the air just before a bolt of lightning streaked from the heavens. The look on her face was startled, as if she’d felt it too. Rosalind smiled softly, then lowered her gaze and examined her wooden dagger more closely. The moment lingered between them for just a second then faded.

He cleared his throat. “So, that was good. But that was just workin’ on yer grip. Ye’ll want tae get used tae wieldin’ a dagger that way. Dae that, nobody will be able tae slap it from yer hand the way I did. But that’s just the first lesson.”

“What? I’m nae a vicious killer yet?”

He chuckled. “Nay. Nae yet. But pay attention to me lessons, and practice a lot, and perhaps ye will be in time.”

“All right, teach me somethin’ else then,” she said.

He nodded. “All right. I’m goin’ tae teach ye how tae disarm somebody now.”

“Shouldnae I be learnin’ blade play? I need tae ken how tae fight.”

“And that’ll come, lass,” he said. “But every skilled bladesman needs a firm groundin’ in defense. Ye need tae ken how tae protect yerself. If ye can dae that, if ye can learn how tae turn blades meant tae kill ye aside, ye’ll be settin’ yerself up for a counterstrike that’ll win the day fer ye.”

“Defense sound boring.”

“Defense is what’ll keep ye alive long enough tae kill yer opponent.”

She sighed dramatically. “All right,” she said with a smile. “Teach me some boring defense.”

“Good lass.”

They spent the balance of the day working on her skills with both a dagger and a sword. Rosalind was lithe and flexible. She had the grace of a dancer and a keen mind that took his lessons very well. While not really a natural with a blade in her hand, she was certainly quick to pick up everything he was showing her, like a sponge, absorbing every lesson he laid down.

By the end of the day, she had a pretty firm grasp of the basic forms. She was rough and unpolished, but it was a start. She had laid a firm foundation and in their next lessons, they would build upon that. But Ellair mostly felt closer to her as they finished their lessons for the day. They had laughed and swapped stories together all day long and he felt like he knew more about her. More than that, he liked what he had learned.

“I may make a competent swordsman of ye yet,” he said.

“I’ll be able tae take ye down before ye ken it.”

He laughed. “’Tis good tae have dreams, lass.”

They laughed together as they rode and Ellair found himself stealing glances at her as they made their way back to the house. Whenever he did, he felt a flutter in his heart. It was gentle but persistent. And when he caught her stealing glances at him, it was like a hard, sudden jolt that shot from the pit of his stomach through every vein in his body.

Her green eyes sparkled like chips of emerald in the dying like of the afternoon. “Thank ye.”

“Fer what?”

“Fer daen’ all ye did taeday,” she said. “For daein’ all ye’ve been daein’ since ye fell in with us.”

Her words were sweet, and her smile was warm and genuine. Those fluttering wings brushed Ellair’s heart once more and drew a smile from him in return.

“Ye’re welcome.”

She bit her lower lip and seemed to be debating with herself about something. With a small shake of her head, she seemed to end the debate.

“I’m glad ye found us, Ellair,” she said. “I’m glad ye fell in with us.”

Her words made his heart swell in ways that confounded him. He had gone there to do a job, not feel whatever it was he was feeling for her. She was, in Laird Gunn’s estimation, the enemy. Or at least a tool of their enemy. He shouldn’t be feeling anything other than rage. And yet, as he looked into her eyes, he knew he couldn’t feel that, no matter how hard he tried. There was something about her that overruled every instinct he had.

“I’m glad too,” he replied softly. “Very glad.”