Page 39 of The Cruel Highlander's Healer
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Nay, but it is a crime to kidnap people. One of yer men let ye get away with that, so I doubt they’d be of much help anyway.”
“Ye truly willnae leave that be, will ye?” He shook his head, pausing only to take a bite of his food before he continued. “Aye, I kidnapped ye. But now ye’re gettin’ paid more coin than ye or the Witch of the Wood ever could have possibly made for the rest of yer lives. So I think it’s workin’ out pretty well for ye, would ye agree?”
Eliza glowered at him, but even she had to admit it was a fair point.
She would be able to help more people than ever. She and Marissa would be able to do things they’d only ever dreamed of before.
Mayhaps it’s worth it to answer his questions. Get to know him a little bit so the rest of the time ye’re helpin’ him, it’s nay a fight. Would it be so bad, tryin’ to at least be friendly with the Beast of the MacKinnons?
Some of the fight left her body as the thought flickered through her mind.
“I helped Marissa from the time she got me,” Eliza explained, hoping that he took her answering his question as the olive branch that it was. “Whenever she would get called away or would go into town to help someone, I would go with her. But for a long time I would just watch.”
“Then, as she saw that I was gettin’ truly curious,” she continued. “She started lettin’ me help. I would make the tinctures, and she would watch. She instructed every one of my moves, telling me about each ingredient that I was working with. It took me near four years before she was confident to let me work on me own.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Ye were healin’ people entirely by yerself?” Eliza nodded, and he continued with his questioning. “I thought ye just meant ye would help her while she observed. Not that ye were doin’ it all on yer own. How could someone let a lass that age be a healer? Is it nae dangerous?”
Eliza shrugged one shoulder.
“There are a lot of people in the world,” she explained. “And a lot of them need healin’. It was worth the risk, to make sure that the people that need help could get it.”
The Laird looked at her, something in his expression shifting as he did. Was the Beast of the MacKinnons… impressed?
Eliza cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable with the way the man across from her was regarding her. She needed to change the topic of the conversation.
“How old were ye when ye became Laird?” she asked around a bite of cheese. “Rumor is that ye were young as well.”
“Eighteen.”
The answer was quick and terse, clearly a touchy subject. But that made Eliza want to talk about it all the more.
“That is quite young to be responsible for that many people,” Eliza pressed.
She reached forward, grabbing her mug of beer from the table and pressing it to her lips. She took a long, languid drink, staring at him over the rim of the glass.
He watched her, dark eyes roving over her face. Her cheeks heated under the weight of his gaze, but she did not shy away. Not this time.
The mug clunked back onto the table as she set it down. She stared at him expectantly, arching a brow as she waited for him to elaborate further.
Laird MacKinnon cleared his throat, buying some time as he drank his own mug of beer. He drained half the glass in one large gulp and then wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
“I wasnae the youngest,” was all that he offered.
Eliza snorted a laugh. The barmaid, seeming to have sensed that their drinks were about to run low, brought two more glasses of ale and set them on the table wordlessly.
The Laird nodded at her in thanks, which Eliza guessed was better than him growling at her like he’d done earlier.
“So let me understand,” she said with a smirk. “Ye wanted me to answer all kinds of questions, but ye will only barely answer one?”
“Isnae a question worth answerin’.”
“What about if I asked ye why ye became a Laird so young, would ye answer me then?”
He stared at her, pausing to take another drink of his beer. She did the same, draining her glass before reaching for her second.
Eliza’s head was beginning to feel a bit fuzzy, the alcohol starting to make her face and body feel warm and languid.
I should slow down.
