Wicked Laird (Brethren of Stone 2)

Elle jumped a little but obeyed as she whirled about and exited the cottage.

“We’ll be right back,” Will gave her a small pat on the shoulder as he followed his brother in, leaving her with the two sailors.

> It only took a minute, though it felt like eternity, until Blair stepped back out. “No one’s in there, you can come back in.”

With a nod, she followed behind him. Her throat ached with emotion as she looked about the cozy little house. Furniture had been turned over and ripped. Dishes lay broken on the floor and linens were strewn about everywhere. She was about to head to the bedroom when she noticed something on the table. Her letter opener from her father.

With a trembling hand, she reached out to touch it. Under it was a note, written in a bold scrawl.

* * *

Return home or else.

* * *

A note from McKenzie, surely. Gripping its handle, she took a shaky breath to try and steady herself.

Blair touched her shoulder. “Are ye all right?”

Anger knotted her insides. “I…it was him,” she said, barely able to squeeze out the words.

“I ken,” he turned her slowly. “Yer not going back to that cottage. Not now.” Then he pulled her into his arms.

“I’m sorry about yer home,” she whispered.

“Don’t be,” Blair’s muscles hardened against her. “He’ll pay for what he’s done.”

Elle tipped her head back to look into his face. Much as she didn’t want to fight, she knew he was right. This is why they’d left Ailean behind. “He will, or if he doesn’t, I ken I tried.”

Blair took a step back but held her hand. “Don’t ye worry. He will.”

Chapter Eleven

Blair had remained fairly level-headed up to this point. Perhaps it was Elle’s assertion that she was grateful to be his employee or that McKenzie kept landing blows that went unanswered but Blair was ready to knock that man into the dirt. He tightened his grip on his pistols. His patience was at an end.

He left the cabin as it was—no use putting it back together—and returned to the ship. Once he had Elle safely back on deck, he retreated to his room.

His plan was too passive. It wasn’t enough to slowly strip the other man’s power, he had to find a way to really strike back. But all of his ideas involved potentially hurting the people in the village. He let out a grunt of frustration. His position was a much more difficult one from which to play.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Yes,” he yelled.

“It’s me,” Elle called.

Every muscle tensed as he rose to answer the door. He wanted to be near her, he always did. But now wasn’t the time. He needed to plan his next move and, honestly, he was still upset about earlier. He wanted more from her. The truth was that he wanted her to return his feelings.

Opening the door only wide enough to greet her, he leveled her with his stare. “Now, isn’t a good time. What do ye need?”

Looking down the hall, she stepped closer to him. “Can I come in please? I wish to have a private conversation.”

He gritted his teeth. “Elle, I don’t think—” but he didn’t finish.

Her hand came to his chest and she gently pushed him backward. “I’ll only keep you a minute.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, unable to resist her.

As she moved into the room, she snapped the door closed behind her. Then turning back to him, she looked up at him with her luminous eyes. “Tell me what you meant earlier about how your anger was your problem and not mine.”

He gave her a long look. He especially didn’t want to discuss his feelings now. He was angry about what was happening, angry that he was making the same mistakes over and over. “Elle, I’ve got plans to make. I don’t have any more time today to—”