Page 29 of Healing the Highland Sinner
“I dinnae ken,” she said. “I dinnae think Ewan will give up lookin’ fer us so easily.”
“Are ye sure he daesnae ken about this place?”
She shook her head. “Ye didnae even ken about this place.”
Ciar shrugged. “True enough.”
“I learned a long time ago ye need some secret bolt holes kent tae nobody else fer times like these,” she explained.
Ellair nodded. It was smart thinking and prudent planning. He was impressed. What she lacked in skill with a blade she more than made up for with her mind. She was shrewd, clever, and intelligent. Necessary traits for a smuggler, he supposed. But it just showed him there was more to her than met the eye. And it made him wonder, not for the first time, why somebody like Rosalind would ally herself with a man like Hugh Sinclair, and by extension, with the English.
“What dae ye think we should dae?” she asked.
He frowned. “Honestly, if Ewan is half as obsessed with killin’ ye as ye think he is?—”
“I think his stunt at the warehouse proves he is,” Ciar said.
“So, assumin’ that’s true, he’s nae goin’ tae stop lookin’ fer ye. He’ll ken we cannae have gotten far. He’ll keep his men combin’ the streets fer the rest of the night. At least, if I were in his place and was determined tae kill ye, ‘tis what I’d dae.”
“I agree,” Ciar said. “I think it’d be safest if we holed up here fer the night.”
She nodded. “All right then. We stay here taenight.”
They fell silent and tried to settle in. Ciar sat by the door, his sword across his lap. His eyes were closed and his breathing even, but Ellair knew he was merely taking a warrior’s nap. He wasn’t in a deep sleep and would be up and ready to fight in the blink of an eye. Ellair remained in the chair Rosalind had put him in and watched her pacing back and forth like a caged lion. She was clearly anxious and agitated.
“Ye should try tae get some rest,” he said.
“I couldnae rest if I wanted tae,” she replied.
“He’ll nae find us here. Like ye said, nobody but ye even knew of this place.”
“Daesnae mean he willnae find us.”
Ellair shrugged. “And if he does, we’ll deal with him and his men. I’ll nae let anybody get tae ye,” he replied. “And I ken Ciar willnae either.”
She stopped pacing for a moment and offered him a smile. He could see though, that although he might have made her feel somewhat better, he had not alleviated all her anxiety, nor had she burned off all her nervous energy. She was tense. Worried.
“All right,” he said and got to his feet.
“Ye should really rest, Ellair. Ye were wounded.”
“Me legs work just fine,” he replied. “Besides, I want tae prove tae ye that I’m nae a bairn.”
She laughed and shook her head. Ellair picked up the dagger she’d used to kill the man in the warehouse, now clean of all the blood that had once coated it and handed it to her.
“Ye did well in the warehouse,” he said. “But we need tae work on yer grip still. When ye drive it intae a man, ye need tae pull it back out.”
She grimaced. “It was a terrible experience. I didnae like how it felt.”
He looked deeply into her eyes and saw how much it had hurt her to do what she’d done, even though she’d had no choice. It was him or her. And frankly, Ellair was glad that she made the choice she had.
“Are ye all right?” he asked.
“Aye. At least, I will be,” she replied. “I’ve just never…”
“I ken. But ye did what he had tae dae. Ye protected yerself. Ye did naethin’ wrong,” he said softly. “And I ken this will sound terrible tae say, but it gets easier.”
She offered him a gentle smile. “Thank ye.”
