Page 79 of Healing the Highland Sinner
“Stay behind me,” he ordered.
Rosalind bristled but didn’t argue further. She slipped behind him as Ellair stepped to the door and pressed his ear to it. The wood was too thick for him to hear anything though. He turned to Rosalind and gave her a nod. He had to assume there would be guards inside. Drawing the dagger from the sheath on his belt, Ellair reached out and grabbed the door handle, gave himself a silent count of three, then burst inside.
He moved low and fast, quickly assessing the situation as he rushed into the room. Two guards. Both sitting at a table with cups of something in front of them. Both looked up from their cups and belatedly realized Ellair was not one of their men. It was too late. Ellair was on them before they could react, slashing the first man across the throat before turning and driving his dagger into the second man’s chest. The first man slumped back in his chair, clutching his throat while the second fell to the floor, dead before he hit the stone.
“Rosalind—”
She was already coming through the door, dagger in hand, and paled when she saw the bodies on the floor. Ellair wiped his blade on the first man’s cloak and sheathed it.
“Are ye all right?” he asked.
She swallowed hard. “Aye. I’m fine.”
Tearing her eyes away from the bodies, she rushed further into the room, looking in the cells that lined it. Ellair was already pulling the ring of keys from the dead guard when he heard Rosalind gasp. He turned, his hand moving toward his dagger, but he paused when he saw her standing before one of the cells. She turned to him with tears shimmering in her eyes, lips trembling, and a look of grief on her face.
“What is it?” he asked.
“He’s here, Ellair.”
The ring of keys in his hand, he rushed to where she stood and paused. The man curled into a ball on the floor of the cell looked nothing like the defiant man he’d seen in the small outbuilding at Sinclair’s secret compound. The man he was looking at was thin and frail, as if he’d been starved. His face was covered in deep purple and black bruises, both of his eyes swollen, and blood, dried and crusted around his nose and mouth.
“Me God,” Ellair said.
Rosalind ripped the ring out of his hand and started using the keys, fumbling with them as she tried to find the right one to unlock the cell. Tears streamed down her face and her hands shook so wildly, she couldn’t get the keys into the locks. Ellair put his hands over hers and gently took the ring back. He quickly and methodically went through the keys until he found the right one. The lock turned with a hard click and the door swung inward.
Rosalind rushed past him, falling to her knees beside her brother. She put a trembling hand on his head, stroking his crusty, matted hair.
“Blaine,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “It’s me. It’s Rosey.”
The man’s battered, swollen eyes fluttered then opened a crack and a smile touched his lips, immediately making him wince.
“Rosey,” he said, his voice dry and raspy. “Ye came for me.”
“Of course I came for ye. I told ye I would,” she said. “I am so sorry that I am so late, but I was afraid coming here might cost ye yer life. Now, ye have tae get up. We need tae get out of here, Blaine. Can ye stand?”
“I can try,” he croaked.
Ellair slipped into the cell and helped Rosalind get her brother to his feet. Leaning on both of them, they helped him out of the cell and past the bodies on the ground. As they passed, a cruel little smile touched Blaine’s lips as he stared at the bloody corpses. He spat on them. Given his condition, Ellair didn’t blame him.
Helping him move through the halls was difficult and slow going and the longer they were in the open like that, the more Ellair grew nervous.
“We need tae move faster,” Ellair said.
“We’re goin’ as fast as we can,” Rosalind said.
“I’m sorry,” Blaine rasped. “Ye should leave me?—”
“We’re nae leavin’ ye,” she hissed. “Stop that nonsense.”
They kept going, somehow not being spotted. They had managed to avoid Sinclair’s men and as they drew near to the storeroom they’d emerged from, he started to feel a bit better about their situation. Started to think they might actually get out without incident. But when they turned the corner that led to the storeroom, they pulled up short. Six of Sinclair’s men stood between them and the door. It was like they’d been waiting for them.
“Bleedin’ hell,” Ellair muttered.
CHAPTER 36
“Go,” Ellair said. “Get yer braither out another way.”
“Ye cannae fight all these men on yer own.”
