Page 28 of Healing the Highland Sinner
“Three, actually. Rosalind took one of them out herself.”
Ciar’s deep laughter echoed around the small chamber. “She’s a feisty one.”
“Aye. That she is.”
“Still. Ye did well. Ye protected her. Kept her safe.”
“But nae without her takin’ a scratch of her own.”
Ciar shrugged. “Could’ve been worse. A lot worse,” he said. “Maybe a bloody lip will teach her she shouldnae go plungin’ in heedlessly. ‘Tis what she pays us fer.”
“I pay ye fer yer charmin’ company,” she said with a laugh as she stepped over to them and set a basket down on the table beside the chair he was sitting in.
“Oh, is that so?” Ciar asked. “Then I want a raise since me company is more charmin’ than most. It’s certainly more charmin’ than this donkey’s.”
“I cannae disagree with that,” Ellair said. “But it ain’t charmin’ enough tae earn him a raise.”
Rosalind laughed. “Aye. Ye’re both right,” she said. “Now, take yer shirt off and let me have a look at that wound.”
He sighed but did as she asked and removed his shirt. She leaned over and grimaced as she inspected the slice on his arm.
“Well, the good news is that it’s nae a deep wound,” she said.
“I told ye ‘twas nae bad.”
She gave him a look. “But even a shallow cut can get infected and kill ye.”
Ellair sighed but sat back and let Rosalind tend to the cut. She opened a small brown bottle and poured a thick clear liquid over the wound. He winced and sucked in a sharp breath.
“Bleedin’ hell that stings,” he grumbled.
She laughed. “Ye whine like an old lady.”
“It stings,” he said then wrinkled his nose. “It stinks too.”
“I correct meself. Ye whine like a bairn.”
Ciar chuckled from his spot near the door and Ellair shot him a dark look, which only made the big man laugh harder. Rosalind pulled a small brown jar from the basket and pulled the stopper out of it. Ellair wrinkled his nose again.
“Dae ye nae have any ointments that dinnae smell like death?” he asked.
“The worse it smells, the better it is fer ye.”
“Is that ancient healer wisdom?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
He chuckled as she took some of the ointment onto her finger and spread it across the slice in his arm. Her touch was gentle, and her gaze lingered on Ellair’s. He swallowed hard, feeling a strange flutter in his heart. She made him feel things he wasn’t used to feeling. Things he’d spent his life trying to avoid. He was a man who shunned personal and emotional connections. They were things he neither wanted nor needed in his life.
But when he looked into Rosalind’s eyes, he felt those walls he’d built around his heart begin to crack and crumble. Her gaze was so open and direct, it never failed to put a stitch in his heart. And her laughter filled his heart with a joy he’d never known before. She made him feel giddy, which was a rarity in his life. It was disconcerting.
She gave him a small smile as she spread more of the ointment on his arm. It was cold and slimy, but it also took some of the fire out of the wound. It smelled bad but strangely enough, it felt pleasant. Soothing. Once she had smeared the ointment all over his wound, she wound a clean cloth around it and tied it tightly, letting her fingers linger on his arm for a moment. Ellair smiled, relishing the warmth of her hand on him.
“There,” she said. “That should keep ye from gettin’ an infection.”
“I hope so. If ye’re right and the worse it smells the better it is fer ye, I have a feelin’ I may just get better immediately.”
“How long dae ye think we should hide out in here?” Ciar asked, interrupting their banter.
