Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
"What are ye doin', lass?" Aidan growled. His blade was at her throat before his thoughts caught up with his instincts. The cold steel pressed against the pale skin of her neck.
Her hands flew up in a gesture of surrender, her wide blue eyes fixed on him. "I mean nay harm," her voice held firm, even as her hands betrayed a faint tremble.
She's a stubborn one, nay doubt. Fear shakes her hands, but her tongue stands steady as any soldier.
Aidan narrowed his eyes angling his body to block her view of Connor without lowering the blade from her neck.
"Nay harm, ye say?" he scoffed, his tone sharp as the edge of his blade. "Ye wander into me cave uninvited, expectin' trust? If ye've nay ill intent, then stay by the mouth of the cave and keep yer nose out of business that doesnae concern ye."
She flinched at the venom in his tone, but to her credit, she didn't back down. Instead, her chin lifted in defiance. "I didnae ken it was yer cave," she shot back with the fire of someone used to fighting for what little ground she had. "And I've nay interest in yer blade or temper."
A low groan from Connor behind him pulled Aidan's focus for a brief second. It was enough for the lass to step to the side, her gaze darting toward the source of the sound. He moved quickly, blocking her path, his free hand pressing against her shoulder to stop her advancing.
"Stay back," he barked, his weight pressing enough to drive the warning home. Heat flared in his veins at the brief, unbidden awareness of her body against his.
"What are ye hidin'?" she demanded as she twisted her shoulder free. "I heard a man groan—what's happened here?"
"That's none of yer concern," Aidan snapped, his frustration mounting. "Ye've nay right to be here, and ye'll be leavin' now."
She didn't budge. If anything, her stance grew more resolute, her hands dropping to her sides as she straightened her shoulders. "I'll nae leave," she said firmly. "Nae when a man's lyin' hurt. I can help him."
Aidan laughed harshly, though there was no humor in it. "Help him? Ye're nae a healer, are ye? Are ye nae just a lass who's wandered too far from home?"
Her eyes narrowed, her defiance blazing brighter. "And ye're just a man who thinks his blade solves everythin'."
His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. "Ye ken nothin' about me," he growled, his voice low with warning.
Who does this lass think she is?
"And ye ken nothin' about what I can do," she retorted, stepping closer, her blue eyes locked with his. "But I'll tell ye this—if ye send me away, he'll die."
The words hit harder than he wanted to admit.
Aidan glanced back toward Connor, his breath hitching at the sight of the pale face and shallow breathing.
The lad was fading fast, and Aidan didn't have the skill to stop it.
But trusting this lass—a stranger who'd appeared unbidden—felt like an impossible gamble.
"What's in it for ye, eh?" he asked, suspicion lacing his tone. "What do ye gain from helpin' a man ye've never met?"
Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, she didn't answer. Then, with a defiant tilt of her chin, she said, "Shelter. Two weeks' worth. That's all I'm askin'."
"Two weeks?" Aidan repeated, incredulous. "Do ye think I've nay better things to do than house stray lasses? Ye'd be safer leavin' now."
"And he'd be safer if ye let me help," she countered, her tone as sharp as his blade. "Two weeks is all I need. Ye can keep yer blade handy if ye're worried I'll try somethin', but I'll nae sit by while a man dies because yer pride is thicker than yer skull."
A weak, raspy chuckle came from behind Aidan. "Ye do have a thick skull, Aidan," Connor murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"Oh, hush, Connor, save yer strength. Ye'll need it."
Blair's heart thundered in her chest as she met the laird's unyielding gaze, her chin held high despite the fear knotting in her belly.
His friend was fading fast—she'd seen enough blood and lifeless faces while studying under the village healer to know that much.
The healer's hut had always smelled of herbs and blood, a place where cries of pain were as constant as the crackle of the fire.
What kind of man waits while death creeps closer?
She stole another glance at the wounded man lying behind him, breaking the eye contact that caused heat to creep across her cheeks.
Connor, Aidan had called him. His breathing was shallow, his skin waxy, the color of death creeping into his features.
If Aidan sent her away, the man wouldn't last the night.
But doubt scratched at the edges of her mind.
What if I fail?
She pushed the thought away fiercely. She couldn't afford to falter. Not now.
"Two weeks," she repeated, her voice steady despite the tightness in her throat.
"That's all I'm askin'. If ye let me stay, I'll do everythin' I can to save him.
If ye send me away…" She glanced toward Connor again, her stomach twisting as she lowered her voice so the dying man could not hear her, "He's as good as dead. "
Aidan's eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. He was weighing her words, testing her resolve.
Do it. Let me help. Ye've nae other choice.
Still, the silence dragged and her mind churned.
If she failed here, where could she go? The thought of being thrust back into the wilds of the Highlands with Lukas Moore lurking somewhere behind her sent a chill skittering down her spine.
Lukas Moore had the wealth and power Maither thought would protect her, but Blair knew better.
A man like him would use both to destroy her.
She clenched her fists to steady herself, digging her nails into her palms.
This is yer only chance, Blair. Prove yerself.
"Why?" Aidan asked suddenly, the distrust in his voice cutting through the oppressive quiet. "Why risk yer life for a man ye've never met? Ye daenae ken him, ye daenae ken me. What's stoppin' ye from turnin' tail and leavin' when it gets hard?"
Blair straightened, drawing her shoulders back.
She refused to let him see the desperation clawing at her insides.
"I've seen too many folk die when there was somethin' that could've been done to save them," she said firmly.
"I'll nae be the kind of woman who turns her back on someone who needs help. That's why."
The man studied her for a long moment, his long dark hair and bright green eyes illuminated in the low glow of the embers. He had a strong jaw. He looked to be the kind of man women would fall over themselves for. "And if I let ye stay, and ye fail him?"
Blair swallowed hard. "Then at least I'll ken I tried," she said softly. "Can ye say the same if ye send me away?"
His jaw tightened. She saw the war in his eyes—pride battling practicality, distrust fighting against the faintest flicker of hope. Finally, he spoke, his voice low, and dangerous.
"If ye stay, ye'll do exactly as I say. Ye'll nae make a single move without me permission. And if ye so much as think of harm—" He took a deliberate step closer, the steel in his hand gleaming in the dim light. "I'll kill ye, lass. Nay hesitation, nay mercy."