Page 26 of Healing the Highland Sinner
He nodded, then turned to Ellair. “Get over here.”
The man swaggered over to them, a smarmy smile on his face. It quickly faded though, in the face of Ciar’s stony expression and stormy hazel eyes.
“Ye’re goin’ in there with her,” Ciar said. “And ye’d best watch her back.”
“Aye. Of course.”
“I mean it. If somethin’ happens in there, ye need tae put yerself in harm’s way tae protect her,” Ciar said, his voice sharp, his gaze direct.
“Aye. I hear ye.”
“Ye better. Because if there’s a single scratch on her, I’m nae goin’ tae be well pleased.”
Ellair nodded. “I’ll make sure she daesnae have a single scratch on her.”
“Come. We’ll be late,” Rosalind said. “Ciar, watch our backs. If Ewan has more men comin’, let us ken. Loudly.”
“Count on it.”
She turned and walked toward the darkened warehouse. Overhead, dark, patchy clouds sailed across a nighttime sky that was dotted with stars that glittered like jewels. Rosalind’s stomach clenched and a lump rose in her throat. She was nervous. Ewan had been growing bolder over the past months and was not at all quiet about his desire to run the port of Thurso on his own. The only thing that had kept him from acting on his desire was his fear of the men who worked for her. But with Laird Gunn taking many of them off the board and Ciar not in optimal fighting shape, she wondered if Ewan saw it as his time to move.
She glanced at Ellair and tried to quell the quiver that rippled through her heart. The man had the most infuriating effect on her. There was something about him that ignited fires within her she’d thought had been snuffed out for good. But whenever his icy blue eyes met hers, she felt those fires sparking to life once more. She knew it was foolish. He was a mercenary in her employ and nothing more. Except, even as the thought passed through her mind, she knew she was lying to herself. He wasn’t just a mercenary. He was something more. And she could see the same in his eyes. The realization was both exciting and terrifying. She didn’t want to feel for this man. And yet… she did.
“We’re meetin’ Ewan,” she told Ellair, trying to get her focus back, as they walked. “The charmin’ lad we met at the Kraken a while back.”
“Aye. I remember him.”
“And there’s a chance he’s called this meetin’ tae kill me.”
Ellair grinned. “So, there’s a chance I’ll get tae have a little fun taenight after all then?”
“Aye. I suppose there is.”
They reached the warehouse, but before they entered, she stopped and turned to him. As she looked into his icy blue eyes, Ciar’s words about Ellair being on the docks with one of the hostesses down there echoed through her mind. She opened her mouth to ask him about it, feeling that sudden swell of acidic jealousy. But she swallowed it down, hardening her expression instead.
“Just keep yer bleedin’ eye peeled. A snake in the grass ain’t half as clever as Ewan.”
“Worry nae. I’ll keep ‘em both peeled.”
She laughed despite herself then turned and pulled the door open. They walked into the warehouse. It was dim and gloomy, with only a handful of oil lamps scattered around on top of stacks of wooden crates providing any illumination. Rosalind’s heart started to pound so loud she was sure Ellair could hear it. She felt him tense beside her. Ellair threw his cloak back and gripped the hilt of his blade as he surveyed the darkness around them.
Rosalind’s hand drifted to the hilt of her dagger. She swallowed hard.
“Somethin’s nae right,” Ellair said.
“Aye. I was thinkin’ the same thing,” she replied, her voice a harsh whisper.
She turned in a circle, trying to see through the shadows that clung to the interior of the warehouse, thick and inky.
“Ewan,” she called out. “What the bleedin’ hell are ye playin’ at?”
The scraping of blades being pulled from their scabbards echoed throughout the warehouse, sounding all around them. Ellair moved closer to her, putting her behind him. Four figures emerged from the shadows like malevolent wraiths.
“Bleedin’ hell,” Ellair muttered.
The four men stopped, surrounding them and penning them in. A tall, broad man with long, dark hair, and darker, soulless eyes, stepped forward, spinning his broadsword in his hand.
“Ewan wanted us tae tell ye that this isnae personal. He said he actually likes ye quite a bit,” the man said. “But ‘tis business and on that count, ye’re standin’ in his way.”
