Page 9 of Healing the Highland Sinner
“Me apologies.”
The tension of the moment faded, so Ellair patted him on the back again then turned and walked over to the Widow, who was staring at him like he’d grown a second head. Ellair stopped in front of her, a crooked grin on his face then leaned forward, standing so close to her, his lips brushed her ear.
“I suppose that means I’m in, eh?” he asked.
She smiled sweetly as he leaned back, but the gleam in her eye sent a cold shiver down Ellair’s spine. He was just about to say something when her knee came up and connected with his groin with such force, he saw stars. The wave of nausea that washed over him was thick and he struggled to keep from throwing up on the cobblestones at her feet.
The sympathetic groans of the men around him ringing in his ears, Ellair fell to his knees, cupping his injured jewels and groaned loudly. The woman leaned down so close her lips brushed his ear this time. Despite the agony that gripped him, the feel of her warm breath caressing his ear and neck still managed to send a shudder of pleasure through him. It was quite the mixed bag of sensations coursing through his body.
“Be at the docks tomorrow mornin’ at dawn and we’ll see if ye’re in or nae,” she said. “Dinnae be late.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and stalked away, her men falling into step behind her, snickering at him as he remained on the ground, hands over his wounded crotch. Ciar stopped beside him and looked down. Ellair turned his face up and groaned. The big man laughed and patted him on the back.
“We’ll see ye at dawn,” he said. “And I’d suggest ye be on time or she may decide tae use that dagger on yer jewels after all.”
Ellair nodded. “Aye. I’ll see ye in the morning.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Idinnae ken if we can trust him,” Ciar said.
Rosalind stood on the end of the dock looking out at the sea. The horizon was beginning to lighten, but the world around her was still cloaked in the inky pre-dawn darkness. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, the corners of her lips turning upward in a soft smile as she took in the scent of the ocean. Rosalind loved the sea and never got tired of the heavy, salty air.
“Rosalind, did ye hear me?” Ciar pressed.
“Aye. I’m standin’ right next tae ye, of course I heard ye.”
“Well? What dae ye think?”
“I dinnae ken either. He’s an excellent fighter. Obviously,” Rosalind replied with a shrug of her shoulders and looked at the big man.
Ciar flushed, the corners of his mouth flickering with a frown. “Aye. He’s capable in a scrap, nay denyin’ that. But I’m more worried about him turnin’ on us and plantin’ a dagger in yer back.”
“I can take care of meself.”
Ciar pulled a face as he looked at her. Rosalind’s cheeks flushed and she quickly looked away. She knew she was not good with a blade and couldn’t actually, take care of herself if it came down to a fight. She had never enjoyed the smuggling world, even less dealing with it herself. It was not suitable for a woman and she was well aware of it, which was why she tried to keep her late husband’s death a secret and worked under his name. But she had felt compelled to find a way to protect herself, so Ciar had been training her. Progress had been slow.
“I mean, I will be able tae take care of meself,” she said. “But Ellair daesnae need tae ken that. I need him tae fear me.”
“Of course,” Ciar replied.
“And I think taeday will tell us whether we can trust him or nae.”
The man frowned but nodded. “Aye. Maybe so.”
“Dinnae worry, all will be well,” she said. “If we cannae trust him, then dispatch him.”
“Gladly.”
“But nae until we ken, Ciar. I mean it,” she said sternly. “Ye’re the first tae say we’ve got a lack of capable fightin’ men and ye ken better than any of us that this man is capable with a blade. He’s already one foot in, if only by kenning a woman stands behind the organization now.”
The man scowled and his face darkened. It was the first time Rosalind had ever seen Ciar bested in combat before. And judging by the look on his face, it still stung. Losing a fight was an uncommon experience for the man. But despite his displeasure, she couldn’t help but see a begrudging respect in his eyes. It was almost imperceptible, his overriding concern being her welfare and watching her back, but it was there all the same.
“Aye. He’s capable,” he grumbled. “He’s also here.”
Rosalind turned and watched Ellair sauntering up the dock, a crooked grin on his face. He stood before her, hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword, shoulders back, chin raised, radiating arrogance from his every pore. Rosalind frowned.
“Ye’re walkin’ like yer jewels are feelin’ better,” she said.
