Page 21 of Promised to the Ruthless Laird
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t answer.
Finley’s stomach turned. “Christ, Edin,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “Are they after ye?”
“I dinnae think so,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “If they were, they wouldna be sittin’ there like a pair o’ fools, waitin’.”
He exhaled through his nose, trying to rein in his frustration. “And what if they go sniffin’ about? What if they get wind o’ me name? Or worse, Davina’s?”
At that, a flicker of something crossed her face.
His breath came rough through his nose. “We cannae afford this, Edin. I cannae. Me sister’s missin’, and now I’ve got tae wonder if the woman ridin’ at me side is draggin’ her own trouble behind her?”
Her eyes darkened. “Ye dinnae have tae wonder, Finley. I’ve kept me own trouble far from ye, have I nae?”
His chest burned with frustration. “Aye, but fer how long?”
She pressed her lips together, as if biting back whatever sharp words she wanted to hurl at him. Instead, she turned back to the window, watching the men below.
A tense silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Edin let out a small breath.
Finley studied her, his eyes searching for any crack in her façade. She was a fortress, every wall fortified, every gate locked tight.
He had never had much patience for lies. He understood them, knew they were sometimes necessary, but that didn’t mean he had to tolerate them when they were aimed in his direction. And right now, Edin was lying to him.
He wasn’t going to drop it.
“Ye’ve nae got the best poker face, lass,” he said, keeping his voice even. “Now tell me the truth. Who are they?”
She bristled, her jaw tightening, but she didn’t look at him. “It’s none of yer concern.”
His frustration flared hot in his chest. “None of me concern? When ye’re standin’ in me room, tellin’ me tae change our plans tae dae what ye were hired fer, all because ye saw somethin’ out that window? I’d say that makes it very much me concern.”
Finley exhaled sharply, his patience fraying. If she thought he was going to sit here in silence while she kept her secrets, she was sorely mistaken.
Edin didn’t turn to look at him. “I told ye — I only thought I recognized them.”
“That’s nae an answer,” he said, crossing his arms. “Thought ye recognized them how?”
Edin’s jaw tightened. “I dinnae want tae run intae trouble.”
“Is that so?” His eyes narrowed. “Because from where I’m standin’, trouble seems t’ follow ye like a shadow.”
She flinched — just barely — but he caught it. A small crack in her usual composure.
He pressed on. “Are they lookin’ fer ye?”
Her lips parted as if to answer, but she hesitated.
That was all he needed.
“Damn it, Edin.” His frustration surged, mingling with something dangerously close to worry. “Ye ken them. Ye kent they’d be here. Were ye expectin’ them? Were ye watchin’ fer them?”
She swallowed. “I dinnae ken fer certain?—”
“That’s nae good enough.” His voice was harsher than he intended, but he didn’t care. “Ye think I’ll sit here like a fool while ye keep me blind?”
Her nostrils flared, her expression hardening. “I warned ye from the start that we had tae be careful.”
“Aye, and I’ve had enough o’ guessin’ who they are,” he shot back.
