Page 20 of Promised to the Ruthless Laird
“Ye’re up early,” she muttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Aye,” Finley replied, his tone gruff. “Figured we’d best be on our way. The sooner we leave, the sooner we find Davina.”
Edin rose without much fuss, moving through the motions of readying herself with quiet efficiency. Finley didn’t pay her any mind at first, too focused on ensuring everything was properlysecured. It wasn’t until he turned toward her that he noticed she had paused by the window.
Her shoulders had gone rigid, her gaze fixed on something outside. The morning light cast a faint glow against her profile, but there was no mistaking the tension in her stance. Finley frowned. He might not have known her long, but he could tell something was off.
“Ye ready, then?” he asked, watching her carefully.
Edin didn’t answer right away. Instead, her fingers curled around the edge of the window, knuckles whitening slightly. Then, as if catching herself, she gave a small shrug and turned away.
“Mayhap we wait a few hours before headin’ out,” she said, voice deliberately casual. “Nay harm in restin’ a bit longer.”
Finley narrowed his eyes. “Ye were the one complainin’ I wasnae movin’ fast enough yesterday. And now ye’re too tired tae go on?” He stepped closer, studying her face. “What’s really goin' on, lass?”
She lifted a hand to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear, an oddly deliberate motion, as if it to give herself something to do. “Naethin’,” she said lightly — too lightly. “Just... tired. We could use a few more hours’ rest, aye?”
Finley folded his arms, suspicion curling deep in his gut. “Aye? And ye suddenly decided that after lookin’ out the window?”
Irritation flashed in her eyes. “Daes it matter?”
“Aye, it daes.” He gestured toward the window. “What did ye see, Edin?”
She hesitated, just for a moment.
“Naethin’,” she replied, her eyes darting away from the window.
Her jaw clenched, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. She was hiding something — he could see it in the way her gaze refused to meet his, in the way her fingers drummed against her arm.
Finley moved past her, his eyes scanning the street below through the grimy windowpane. The village was just beginning to stir, merchants setting up stalls, children scampering across the cobblestones. But amidst the early bustle, his attention snagged on two men astride sturdy horses, their rigid poses too watchful.
“Who are they?” Finley asked, his voice low, edged with suspicion.
Edin didn’t look at him. Her gaze remained fixed out the window, her fingers curled tight against the wooden ledge. “I’m nae sure,” she muttered.
His jaw tightened. “Dae ye recognize them?”
She hesitated a beat too long. “It’s probably naething,” she said. But the slight waver in her voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
“It’s nae naething if ye’re frozen in fear,” he shot back.
At that, she turned, her eyes flashing. “I’m naefrozen,” she snapped, but the tension in her shoulders said otherwise.
Finley stepped closer, his broad frame casting a shadow over her where she stood. “Aye, ye are. Ye saw those men, and all the blood drained from yer face. So, I’ll ask again. Dae ye ken them?”
She exhaled sharply, rubbing at her temple. “I might recognize them from a past mission. I dinnae ken.”
His brows drew together. “Ye dinnae ken?” His voice was sharp with disbelief. “Ye either dae or ye dinnae.”
Edin let out a frustrated breath, shaking her head. “It’s been years, Finley. I cannae be sure.”
He studied her, searching for the truth in her words. “And what kind of mission would put ye in the path o’ men who make ye want tae bolt like a spooked horse?”
Her jaw clenched. “I did a lot o’ things before I met ye. Nae all of ‘em were clean.”
His stomach twisted at the admission, though he wasn’t sure why it unsettled him as much as it did. He’d always known Edin wasn’t some wide-eyed lass with a quiet past.
He took another step toward her, lowering his voice. “Did ye cross ‘em? Cheat ‘em? Kill one o’ their kin?”
