Page 84 of Healing the Highland Sinner
She laughed softly and turned away. Over the past couple of weeks, following the fall of Hugh Sinclair, they had grown closer. Their days had been filled with getting to know each other better, their nights with steamy passion that made her shiver just thinking about.
“Trust me when I say me family will see in ye, what I see in ye,” Ellair said. “And they will love ye as much as I dae.”
His words ignited the fire in her heart, making it burn bright, and it warmed her from the inside. The smile that slipped across her lips was more genuine this time and she squeezed his hand in return. However, the shadow that had fallen upon her heart lightened, but did not disappear completely. Ellair saying these words was one thing. Seeing it happen for herself was something else entirely. Her time as a smuggler, exposed to some of the worst elements in Thurso, had left its mark on her. And she was not as easy to trust as she might have been when she was younger.
“I hope ye’re right,” she said.
“I ken I’m right. Ye need nae worry. Ye’ll have a home here and be surrounded by people who will love ye,” he said. “I can already see ye becomin’ good friends with Billie and Keira.”
He had spent time on their travels explaining everybody to her, so she wasn’t completely in the dark upon arrival at Castle MacAulay. But the closer they drew to their home, she more jumbled her mind became and she was having a hard time remembering who was who. She felt like a completely hay-brained idiot. Ellair laughed and shook his head.
“Ye’re really workin’ yerself up too much about this,” he said. “They are just people, Rosalind. Nay different than ye or me.”
“Ha,” she scoffed. “They’re fancy folk and I’m… nae.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “And ye think I’m one of the fancy folk?”
“Well… nay. But ye’ve been around them.”
“And they accept me for what I am without hesitation,” he said. “Just as they’ll accept and embrace ye as well.”
She gnawed on her bottom lip, still skeptical. “If ye say so.”
“I dae.”
“Fine,” she replied with a grin. “Now, who are Keira, Abigail and Billie?”
“Keira is wife tae me braither, Cormac,” he said. “Billie is her sister and Laird Domhnall MacAulay ’s wife. I really think ye’ll get on well with them. They’ve got the same fire and spirit ye dae.”
“And who else is goin’ tae be there?” she asked.
“Last word I had, me and Cormac’s best mate, Iain MacThomas and his wife Evangeline will be at the castle waitin’ fer us as well,” he said. “Abigail, Arabella, Hugo, Elsea, and Angus are all travelin’ tae France fer some family business, so ye’ll meet them later.”
“Right,” she said. “And who are they?”
He laughed. “Let’s nae overburden ye with all the names and places just yet. Ye seem overwhelmed as it is,” he said. “Let’s just focus on taeday and easin’ yer mind enough tae see that the people we’ll be meetin’ are goin’ tae love ye just as much as I dae. How’s that sound?”
“It sounds nice,” she replied.
Ellair kissed her hand again, then turned his horse and got back on the road to the castle. The way he said he loved her—so casually—filled her heart with a joy she had seldom, if ever, felt in her life. He said it as if it was a fact and always had been. Itnever failed to put a smile on her face and a flutter in her heart. It was a feeling she was so unaccustomed to before Ellair, and now it was one she wasn’t sure she could live without.
He had managed to allay some of her fears as they traveled the final stretch of road, but as they passed beneath the portcullis in the curtain wall of Laird MacAulay ’s castle, Rosalind’s stomach began turning somersaults once more. A line of people waited in the yard, just below the steps that led to the front doors of the castle, like they were royalty. They all stared at her, seeming to be eager to get a look at the woman Ellair had claimed as his own. Their gazes were curious, probing, and Rosalind thought she might be sick.
A pair of stable boys took the reins as they dismounted and Ellair stepped over to her, grasping her hand gently and offering her an encouraging smile.
“It will all be fine,” he whispered. “Nay need tae fear, me love.”
“Says ye,” she whispered back.
Ellair brought her to the line of waiting people and Rosalind felt the weight of their stares pressing down on her. The lump in her throat returned and her mouth was dry. She was doing all she could to keep her trembling legs from giving out beneath her.
“Laird Domhnall MacAulay,” Ellair said. “May I present tae ye, Rosalind Fletcher.”
Domhnall MacAulay, tall, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, was a bear of a man. He was handsome with a strong jaw and thick arms. He wore his dark hair long and wild, and his blue eyes were cold and piercing. He looked like the sort of man who could discern your secrets with nothing but a gaze. He had an intimidating air about him as he looked at Rosalind, making her legs shake even harder, threatening to spill her there in front of everybody.
“So,” he said, his voice deep and booming like thunder. “Ye’re the one they call the Widow then, eh?”
“They did, me laird,” she said, giving him a small but polite curtsey. “I’m retired from that life now.”
