Page 7 of Healing the Highland Sinner
“Watch this one, eh?” she said.
“Aye,” said one. “He’ll nae go nowhere.”
Rosalind followed Ciar down the alley, stepping far enough away so they wouldn’t be overheard. He turned to her, his face pensive.
“I hate tae say it, but we need more men,” he said, pitching his voice low. “We’re shorthanded on most days. ‘Tis worse since that bastard Gunn captured our men and threw them in his cells. We dinnae have enough men tae mount a proper raid. We go in with what we have now, we might get ourselves wiped out by Gunn’s patrols.”
“And ye think this Ellair fellow can help? I got the feelin’ ye dinnae like him.”
He grunted. “I dinnae like him. He’s too cocky and speaks tae ye in a way I dinnae like,” he said. “But I can tell by the wayhe moves that he’s familiar with a blade. He’s got the look of a warrior about him. I dinnae have tae like him tae work with him.”
Rosalind was not a warrior in the least. But Ciar was a fighter through and through and was her de facto war chief, so she was pleased that somebody so knowledgeable agreed with her initial assessment of the man.
“We ken nothin’ about this man,” Rosalind said. “With Laird Gunn lookin’ tae take us out, how can we trust him?”
“We cannae. Nae yet. But I think it’d be prudent tae find out,” he said softly. “As much as I hate tae say it, if his blade is as sharp as his mouth, we can use him. The men Gunn took were our best fighters and ye ken that.”
She knew losing those three men to Gunn had dealt them a heavy blow. They needed skilled fighters. For Ciar to advocate for a man he had such a demonstrable distaste for carried a lot of weight with her. It was something she had to listen to.
“All right,” she finally said. “I’ve got an idea.”
Rosalind turned and walked back to where the man stood. She stopped and looked him up and down, trying to assess him—and whether she’d gone mad for even considering the idea that had passed through her mind.
“All right, Ellair. Ye think ye’ve got what it takes tae fight alongside the finest men I’ve ever kent?” she asked.
“Aye. I ken I dae.”
“Then ye’ll need tae prove it,” she said with a devious grin.
“Aye? And how’d ye like me tae dae that?”
Rosalind turned to Ciar who was grinning wolfishly at her. They were often on the same page about most things, and she could see by the look on his face that he knew where this was going. He gave her a small nod of approval.
“If ye want tae be part of me crew, ye need tae earn yer way on,” Rosalind said.
“All right. And how dae ye want me tae dae that?”
She turned to Ciar and grinned. “Ye’ll have tae best Ciar in single combat.”
Ellair grinned. “Tae that, I say bring it on.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Ellair was pushed forward and a wooden staff thrust into his hands. He turned and looked at the woman who’d set this all in motion and flashed her a roguish grin.
“Is this a jest then?” he asked.
The corner of her mouth curled upward, and her eyes glinted dangerously. Not a jest then. The Widow and the rest of her men backed away, giving him and the monster standing before him a wide berth. The big man spun the wooden staff he was holding, demonstrating his dexterity in what Ellair assumed was supposed to be a display of intimidation.
Ellair quickly got his head into the game and prepared himself. The man before him was big and nimble, and he seemed to handle the staff well, telling him he’d had some training. He was skilled and not just a broad shouldered, mindless brute as Ellair had been secretly hoping.
“All right,” he muttered to himself. “I guess we’re daein’ this then.”
“Aye. Damn right we’re doin’ this,” Ciar said. “First tae yield, eh?”
“Then get ready tae yield.”
Ellair took a few steps back and got used to the staff in his hand. It wasn’t a weapon he’d normally choose as he felt more comfortable with a blade, but he understood why the Widow and her men didn’t want him to have one. Not at the moment anyway. He would best her man and prove himself to her. What other choice did he have?
