Page 11 of Healing the Highland Sinner
“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 taedae. 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?—”
