Page 49 of Healing the Highland Sinner
Rosalind felt like she’d been punched in the gut and had to fight to keep herself from doubling over as the air was driven from her lungs. She should have been used to the threats about Blaine’s safety. It was the carrot Sinclair had been dangling in front of her for what felt like an entire lifetime. And she had naught but his word that Blaine was still actually alive. For all she knew, her brother had been murdered long ago. But she kept moving forward and kept doing Sinclair’s bidding in the hope that he still lived. There was nothing else for her to do.
“Dae ye understand?” Fischer pressed.
She steeled her spine and raised her chin, defiance glittering in her eyes as she recalled Ellair’s words about his own brother’s situation.
“And what proof daes he offer that me braither still lives?”
“He offers ye his word.”
“Which means naethin’ tae me. I want proof me braither lives.”
The man shrugged. “’Tis somethin’ ye’ll need tae discuss with the laird himself. I’m only here tae deliver his message tae ye.”
“Then ye can go back tae yer laird and tell him I require proof of Blaine’s life before I’ll dae anythin’ more fer him.”
The man’s expression softened slightly, and he looked upon her as if he understood her pain or at least took some bit of sympathy on her. It was unexpected.
“Laird Sinclair would have me hide fer tellin’ ye, but I’ve seen the lad meself. Yer braither still lives,” he said softly. “But it will nae continue tae be the case if ye dinnae dae as Laird Sinclair commands ye tae dae. So… dae yer job, me lady.”
The man turned and fled the warehouse not a moment too soon. Confirmation that her brother was in fact still alive, took her legs out from under her. Rosalind collapsed in a heap, hugging herself tightly as long, pained sobs burst from her mouth. She trembled from head to toe as tears rolled down her cheeks. The feeling of relief was profound. Although she only had Fischer’s word to go by, she had heard sincerity in his voice. She believed him.
However, that relief was short-lived as a feeling of utter helplessness and impotent rage stole over her. A howl burst through her gritted teeth, and she buried her face in her hands, trying to stifle the fury that warred with powerlessness that churned her insides and made her heart race so hard, she thought it might beat its way right out of her chest. He was alive. But she could not do anything to get him back other than continue doing Sinclair’s bidding and hope that, maybe one day, he would hold true to his word and return her brother to her.
She flinched hard as a hand fell on her shoulder and jerked backward, her hand flying to her dagger once more. Through hertears, she found herself facing Ellair, who knelt on the ground beside her, genuine concern on his face.
“Rosalind, what is it?”
His usual arrogance and swagger were gone from his expression and the tone in his voice. He asked her sincerely. She looked into his icy blue eyes, trying to draw some bit of strength from them, but felt nothing other than weakness. Given the feelings that had been building between them, Rosalind knew she should push him away, that she should be alone. She couldn’t draw strength from him, but she did find herself wanting a bit of warm comfort instead.
She leaned into him, gripping his shirt, and buried her face in his chest. As she sobbed wildly, he pulled her close and gently stroked her hair, whispering soothing words to her. He held her until her tears had dried and her trembling had ebbed. Until he felt like she could stand on her own two feet again without collapsing into a heap once more.
When she felt strong enough, she let Ellair help her to her feet. She leaned against the crates beside her and wiped her eyes, struggling to get herself back under control. When she felt she had, she offered Ellair a quavering smile that felt sickly upon her face and one she knew didn’t look genuine or natural.
“What is the matter, Rosalind? What’s happened?”
“What are ye daein’ here?” she asked.
“When ye had nae come back tae the compound, I got worried, so I came lookin’ fer ye.”
“I told ye all I wanted tae be alone.”
“Aye. But there’s also a man who’s lookin’ tae take yer head,” he replied. “I wasnae goin’ tae let ye be out here alone and unprotected.”
She wanted to be angry with him, but she appreciated his concern. He looked at her with uncertainty on his face. And she knew why. Rosalind had always done her best to maintain a façade of cool composure. She had always done her best to be the Widow. And to that end, Ellair had seen her be fierce and commanding.
But he had never seen her like that—broken and defeated. She felt empty. Like she’d been completely hollowed out.
“Everythin’ I’ve done has been fer me braither. Tae protect him,” she said quietly. “Sinclair took him from me with such ease… and naethin’ I’ve done since has been able tae bring him home. I havenae been able tae protect him. I’ve failed tae keep him safe.”
“Ye’ve nae failed,” he said gently. “None of this is yer fault.”
“I dinnae ken if I have the courage or strength tae go on,” she said. “I dinnae ken if I have the courage or strength tae save me braither.”
He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and raised her head so she was looking him in the eye. Ellair’s expression was firm. Serious.
“I will nae patronize ye, Rosalind. I cannae say how any of this is goin’ tae play out. I willnae give ye false hope or make promises I cannae deliver on,” he said. “But one thing I can say fer certain is that ye dinnae lack courage and strength. Ye’ve got that in spades, more than most people I ken. And I ken that if there’s a way tae bring yer braither back, ye will find it. Ye just need tae endure.”
“I dinnae ken if I can.”
