Page 9 of Promised to the Ruthless Laird (Highland Whispers of Love #2)

CHAPTER NINE

T he next morning, Finley woke before dawn, the gray light of early morning seeping through the cracks in the wooden shutters, painting the small room in muted tones. He sat up slowly, the ache of the night on the floor settling into his bones. The faint snores from the bed told him that Edin was still asleep, wrapped in whatever dreams haunted her restless mind.

The embers in the hearth had long since faded, leaving the room cold. Finley pushed the warm blanket aside, his thoughts already turning toward the day ahead. They had a journey to make, and every moment they lingered was a moment wasted — another moment Davina remained lost, her fate unknown.

God above, where are ye, Davina? The question gnawed at him, a constant companion since the day she’d disappeared. The weight of his duty pressed down on him once again. The mission was clear, the path laid out, and yet, his mind kept wandering back to Edin. Her sharp eyes, her biting wit, the defiance that sparked whenever they locked eyes.

Why did she affect him so?

He forced himself to put an end to his thoughts. Entertaining them any further was a waste of time, an indulgence he couldn’t afford. There were far more pressing matters at hand. Dwelling would do nothing but distract him, and that was a luxury that came at too steep a price.

With a sigh, he stood and dressed quickly, fastening his belt and ensuring his dagger was within easy reach. His father’s stern voice echoed in his mind. Never let yer guard down, lad.

He glanced over at Edin, still curled beneath her blanket, her face softened by sleep. For all her bravado, she seemed so small in the dim light, vulnerable in a way he doubted she would ever allow him to see when she was awake. Finley’s jaw tightened. He had to focus.

The sound of Edin stirring pulled him from his thoughts. She stretched lazily, eyes fluttering open. But then she sat up, and the mask was back, her expression carefully neutral.

“Ye’re up early,” she muttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Aye,” Finley replied, his tone gruff. “Figured we’d best be on our way. The sooner we leave, the sooner we find Davina.”

Edin rose without much fuss, moving through the motions of readying herself with quiet efficiency. Finley didn’t pay her any mind at first, too focused on ensuring everything was properly secured. It wasn’t until he turned toward her that he noticed she had paused by the window.

Her shoulders had gone rigid, her gaze fixed on something outside. The morning light cast a faint glow against her profile, but there was no mistaking the tension in her stance. Finley frowned. He might not have known her long, but he could tell something was off.

“Ye ready, then?” he asked, watching her carefully.

Edin didn’t answer right away. Instead, her fingers curled around the edge of the window, knuckles whitening slightly. Then, as if catching herself, she gave a small shrug and turned away.

“Mayhap we wait a few hours before headin’ out,” she said, voice deliberately casual. “Nay harm in restin’ a bit longer.”

Finley narrowed his eyes. “Ye were the one complainin’ I wasnae movin’ fast enough yesterday. And now ye’re too tired tae go on?” He stepped closer, studying her face. “What’s really goin' on, lass?”

She lifted a hand to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear, an oddly deliberate motion, as if it to give herself something to do. “Naethin’,” she said lightly — too lightly. “Just... tired. We could use a few more hours’ rest, aye?”

Finley folded his arms, suspicion curling deep in his gut. “Aye? And ye suddenly decided that after lookin’ out the window?”

Irritation flashed in her eyes. “Daes it matter?”

“Aye, it daes.” He gestured toward the window. “What did ye see, Edin?”

She hesitated, just for a moment.

“Naethin’,” she replied, her eyes darting away from the window.

Her jaw clenched, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. She was hiding something — he could see it in the way her gaze refused to meet his, in the way her fingers drummed against her arm.

Finley moved past her, his eyes scanning the street below through the grimy windowpane. The village was just beginning to stir, merchants setting up stalls, children scampering across the cobblestones. But amidst the early bustle, his attention snagged on two men astride sturdy horses, their rigid poses too watchful.

“Who are they?” Finley asked, his voice low, edged with suspicion.

Edin didn’t look at him. Her gaze remained fixed out the window, her fingers curled tight against the wooden ledge. “I’m nae sure,” she muttered.

His jaw tightened. “Dae ye recognize them?”

She hesitated a beat too long. “It’s probably naething,” she said. But the slight waver in her voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“It’s nae naething if ye’re frozen in fear,” he shot back.

At that, she turned, her eyes flashing. “I’m nae frozen ,” she snapped, but the tension in her shoulders said otherwise.

Finley stepped closer, his broad frame casting a shadow over her where she stood. “Aye, ye are. Ye saw those men, and all the blood drained from yer face. So, I’ll ask again. Dae ye ken them?”

She exhaled sharply, rubbing at her temple. “I might recognize them from a past mission. I dinnae ken.”

His brows drew together. “Ye dinnae ken?” His voice was sharp with disbelief. “Ye either dae or ye dinnae.”

Edin let out a frustrated breath, shaking her head. “It’s been years, Finley. I cannae be sure.”

He studied her, searching for the truth in her words. “And what kind of mission would put ye in the path o’ men who make ye want tae bolt like a spooked horse?”

Her jaw clenched. “I did a lot o’ things before I met ye. Nae all of ‘em were clean.”

His stomach twisted at the admission, though he wasn’t sure why it unsettled him as much as it did. He’d always known Edin wasn’t some wide-eyed lass with a quiet past.

He took another step toward her, lowering his voice. “Did ye cross ‘em? Cheat ‘em? Kill one o’ their kin?”

Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t answer.

Finley’s stomach turned. “Christ, Edin,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “Are they after ye?”

“I dinnae think so,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “If they were, they wouldna be sittin’ there like a pair o’ fools, waitin’.”

He exhaled through his nose, trying to rein in his frustration. “And what if they go sniffin’ about? What if they get wind o’ me name? Or worse, Davina’s?”

At that, a flicker of something crossed her face.

His breath came rough through his nose. “We cannae afford this, Edin. I cannae. Me sister’s missin’, and now I’ve got tae wonder if the woman ridin’ at me side is draggin’ her own trouble behind her?”

Her eyes darkened. “Ye dinnae have tae wonder, Finley. I’ve kept me own trouble far from ye, have I nae?”

His chest burned with frustration. “Aye, but fer how long?”

She pressed her lips together, as if biting back whatever sharp words she wanted to hurl at him. Instead, she turned back to the window, watching the men below.

A tense silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Edin let out a small breath.

Finley studied her, his eyes searching for any crack in her facade. She was a fortress, every wall fortified, every gate locked tight.

He had never had much patience for lies. He understood them, knew they were sometimes necessary, but that didn’t mean he had to tolerate them when they were aimed in his direction. And right now, Edin was lying to him.

He wasn’t going to drop it.

“Ye’ve nae got the best poker face, lass,” he said, keeping his voice even. “Now tell me the truth. Who are they?”

She bristled, her jaw tightening, but she didn’t look at him. “It’s none of yer concern.”

His frustration flared hot in his chest. “None of me concern? When ye’re standin’ in me room, tellin’ me tae change our plans tae dae what ye were hired fer, all because ye saw somethin’ out that window? I’d say that makes it very much me concern.”

Finley exhaled sharply, his patience fraying. If she thought he was going to sit here in silence while she kept her secrets, she was sorely mistaken.

Edin didn’t turn to look at him. “I told ye — I only thought I recognized them.”

“That’s nae an answer,” he said, crossing his arms. “Thought ye recognized them how?”

Edin’s jaw tightened. “I dinnae want tae run intae trouble.”

“Is that so?” His eyes narrowed. “Because from where I’m standin’, trouble seems t’ follow ye like a shadow.”

She flinched — just barely — but he caught it. A small crack in her usual composure.

He pressed on. “Are they lookin’ fer ye?”

Her lips parted as if to answer, but she hesitated.

That was all he needed.

“Damn it, Edin.” His frustration surged, mingling with something dangerously close to worry. “Ye ken them. Ye kent they’d be here. Were ye expectin’ them? Were ye watchin’ fer them?”

She swallowed. “I dinnae ken fer certain?—”

“That’s nae good enough.” His voice was harsher than he intended, but he didn’t care. “Ye think I’ll sit here like a fool while ye keep me blind?”

Her nostrils flared, her expression hardening. “I warned ye from the start that we had tae be careful.”

“Aye, and I’ve had enough o’ guessin’ who they are,” he shot back.

For a brief moment, something flickered in her eyes. And just when he thought she might finally lower her guard, tell him whatever truth she had been hiding, it was gone, leaving him only with the sense that she was carrying something he would never know.

Edin didn’t speak, but there was no need. Her silence was more telling than any words could be.

It struck him with an uncomfortable clarity: he knew so little about this woman, about who she really was beneath the sharp exterior, the calculated moves, and the mystery she wore like a cloak. He had let her into his life so easily, swept up in the chaos she carried, without ever stopping to ask what it meant to truly know her. How had he come to this point? How had he allowed someone so secretive, so wrapped in enigma, to draw him in so completely?

The realization cut deeper than he expected, like a splinter of ice lodged in his chest. He’d known danger had been following her — he had seen the way it clung to her every step, the way it followed them both like a shadow. But he had never fully acknowledged the truth of it. Not until now.

This was exactly the opposite of what he needed.

His people were depending on him to lead, to remain steady. And yet here he was, caught up in this whirlwind of secrets, shadows, and the unsettling feeling that Edin was somehow pulling him into a storm he couldn’t weather.

He couldn’t do this. Not now, not when there were far greater stakes at play. Not when Davina was still out there, somewhere, and his every instinct screamed for him to find her. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, to be pulled into a web of unknown dangers that might undo everything he had worked for.

Then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, the two men turned their horses.

Edin breathed in deeply, her shoulders easing ever so slightly. Finley studied her carefully as they rode off, watching the way her fingers flexed against the sill, the way her chest rose and fell in what resembled relief.

“They’re leavin’,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

“Aye,” Finley said slowly. “And ye seem mighty glad about it.”

Her lips pressed together, but she nodded. “If they were lookin’ fer us, they didnae find what they needed.”

He caught the slip in her words. “If they were lookin’ fer us? Or just ye?”

Edin hesitated. Too long.

A previous job. That was the only answer she was going to give him. And though Finley had more questions, he could see she wouldn’t give him any more than that.

For now.

He exhaled, glancing back out the window. The road was empty now, the figures nothing more than fading dust in the distance.

Whatever had just happened, whatever those men were truly after, he didn’t like it.

And he liked even less that Edin was lying to him about it.

“It daeesnae matter now,” she said. “They’re gone.”

Finley’s fingers curled into fists. She was hiding something big. And for the life of him, he didn’t know if it was going to get them killed.