Page 18 of Healing the Highland Sinner (Tales of the Maxwell Lasses #7)

CHAPTER 18

“ I dinnae see how this is me fault,” he said.

“Ye ken exactly why this is yer fault.”

Ellair laughed and put on an expression of feigned innocence. “I’ve got nae bleedin’ idea what ye’re talkin’ about.”

She chuffed. “Go tell it tae the fishmonger’s daughter.”

She cringed immediately when she said it, making Ellair laugh heartily. “Why, Rosalind, are ye jealous?”

“Shut it,” she said. “I dinnae want tae hear it.”

“Truly, it’s sweet of ye tae be so possessive of me,” he said as he spread his arms out and turned in a circle. “I mean, what lady wouldnae be, eh?”

“I’m startin’ tae regret savin’ ye from that warehouse.”

“Nay, ye’re nae.”

She pulled a face and shook her head. “I still cannae believe I agreed tae take twenty bleedin’ percent off the top of Rory’s shipments.”

Ellair shrugged. “Ye could try tellin’ him ye were so consumed with jealousy because a fishmonger’s daughter was flirtin’ with me that ye were out of yer head and didnae ken what ye were daein’,” he said. “I mean… ye should always go with the truth, eh?”

Her face red and her hands balled into fists, she stomped on the dock. Ellair clapped his hands and laughed. He knew immediately when he’d seen the look on her face as he talked to the fishmonger’s daughter that she was out of her head with jealousy. It had struck him hard for it had confirmed her feelings for him—feelings he returned in spades. But also, feelings he couldn’t share with her. There was a lot he couldn’t share with her, it seemed, and it was eating him up inside.

“What are ye even daein’ down here?” she growled. “Why are ye followin’ me?”

“Because somebody had tae watch yer back and Ciar said he couldnae be seen with ye in the daytime. So, I volunteered. He said ‘twas a good idea. Especially with everythin’ goin’ on and Ewan lookin’ tae take yer head and all.”

“Ewan wouldnae move on me in the daylight.”

“People are doin’ a lot of things ye’d never think them capable of,” he said, wincing at how close to home that statement hit.

“Well… I appreciate ye watchin’ me back. Even if ye did bollocks up me negotiation.”

“I didnae bollocks anythin’ up. I was simply eatin’ a fish stick.”

She rolled her eyes. “If ye say so.”

“I dae,” he replied lightly. “So, now what?”

“Now, I go back tae the compound and tell Ciar I bollocksed everythin’ up and we’ll be makin’ less money. ‘Tis nae enough I’m kickin’ meself about it, but now I’ve got tae deal with him mockin’ me fer bein’ distracted and lettin’ Rory get one over me. He’s always remindin’ me how slippery that man is.”

“Tell him ye were doin’ Rory a kindness—one that will be repaid and then some.”

“That’s the trouble, Rory never repays me kindnesses. He only ever wants more,” she said dejectedly. “And now that I’ve shown him I’m willin’ tae take such a healthy shave, he’s goin’ tae expect it all the time movin’ forward.”

Ellair tipped him a wink. “Dinnae worry, lass. I’ll make sure he makes good on his promise of recompense.”

She offered him a weak smile. “Aye?”

He nodded. “Of course, I will. Because I suppose it’s partly me fault ye had tae take such a healthy shave in the first place.”

She laughed. “Ahh, so ye admit it.”

“Perhaps.”

“All right, are ye comin’ back tae the compound with me?”

He shook his head. “Nae yet. I want tae go have a drink at the tavern and listen in on all the gossip floatin’ through town. Always helpful tae know what people are sayin’, eh?”

“’Tis true,” she said.

He met her sparkling green eyes and felt his heart skip a beat. The effect this woman had on him was as maddening and he didn’t understand it. No woman had ever made him feel the way she did. And certainly with nothing more than a glance. It was all the more frustrating because of the secrets he was being forced to keep from her. He wanted to curse Laird Gunn for putting him into that position, but he also knew there was no way Torrin could have foreseen what he would feel for a woman who was supposed to be the enemy, and supposedly a man. If there was anybody Ellair should be upset with, it was with himself.

“Dae ye have tae get back tae the compound straight away?” he asked.

A faint smile dusted her lips and she looked down, her cheeks seeming to color. “Probably nae straight away. Why is that?”

“I thought maybe we could get a cup of wine? Or maybe some food?”

“I… aye,” she said. “Why nae?”

His heart felt like it was suddenly too large for his chest and a wide smile stretched his lips. Together, they walked along the docks, talking and soaking in the warmth of the day. It wasn’t that they talked about anything in specific, or anything too personal, but Ellair felt an ease between them that hadn’t been there before. And when he looked into her eyes, he saw the feelings he carried for her being reflected back to him.

They leaned against the railing near the head of the docks after finishing a cup of wine and a meat pie—which she was as impressed with as he had been—and he knew their time together was drawing to an end. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, signaling the beginning of Thurso’s nightly change. The vibrant orange and red light from the fading sun, made Rosalind’s skin glow, giving it a golden hue, and made her eyes sparkle like jewels.

His gaze drifted from her eyes down her smooth, pale cheeks, to her full, pillowy lips and he felt his breath catch in his throat. He wanted nothing more than to pull her to him, kiss and hold her. To make her feel every bit of emotion that raged inside of him for her. He wanted her to understand the torment he was in, having to keep his true self from her—and to love him for it anyway.

In the end though, they both lowered their eyes, letting the moment pass. She nudged at a stone near the toe of her boot and frowned, seeming to be as disappointed that he hadn’t acted as he was with himself for letting the moment pass.

“Well… I should probably get back,” she said softly.

“Aye. Probably so.”

She finally raised her eyes to him again. “Sun’s goin’ down, so be safe.”

“Always,” he said. “And ye be safe gettin’ back tae the compound.”

“Always.”

Rosalind turned and melted into the crowd as she made her way back, leaving him alone on the docks. He had come down to the port in part to watch her back, that much was true. But he had also come on a fact-finding mission, which was why he was staying behind.

While Rosalind had seen the fishmonger’s daughter merely as somebody who was flirting with him—and she was, of course—she was also a very useful source of information. Through her, he’d gotten the name of a man who might be able to tell him exactly what was going on and what Rosalind had unwittingly gotten herself tangled up in.

Once he was sure she was gone, Ellair made his way through the growing crowd of people, noticing once again, just how much the people changed from day to night. He wound his way through the warren of streets that were growing dim and gloomy as the sun slipped below the horizon and night reclaimed the land. The girl had heard of a man who had once worked for the Widow. A man named Carson. The girl told him he liked to drink at a small, out of the way place called the Crown and Coin, which was set well away from the docks.

It had taken a little longer than he’d expected, not to mention a few inquiries, but Ellair finally found himself standing in front of the ramshackle building that didn’t just sit well away from the docks but sat on the very edge of down. The sign out front depicted a rusty crown and several coins that looked like it had been painted by either a child or a blind man.

Ellair pulled the door open and was immediately assaulted by a cloud of pipe smoke and the stale stench of unwashed people. The interior was small and windowless, which made the mélange of odors all the more potent. A fire roared in the fireplace on the far wall, the heat further amplifying the stench that hung over the place. Tables were packed into the room, which was three-quarters full, and a pair of musicians played a rollicking tune in the corner.

The men and women who filled the Crown and Coin were the rough sort. The kind of people the silk and velvet wearing upper class liked to pretend didn’t exist, but the inside was lively. The place may have smelled, but the people inside the tavern sure seemed to know how to have a good time.

All eyes shifted to him as he made his way through the common room. Ignoring the subtle stares and overtly hostile glares, Ellair made his way around the common room, looking for the man the fishmonger’s daughter had described to him. A man sitting in the corner, alone and huddled over a large cup, seemed to fit.

The man was so engrossed in his cup, he didn’t seem to notice the stir Ellair’s presence was causing, and in fact didn’t even look up until he was standing over the table. He raised his head, his limp, stringy sandy blond hair falling over half his face as he did. The man stared at Ellair in silence, his brown eye red and rheumy.

“Got a problem, friend?” he asked, his voice low and raspy.

“Nae at all.”

Ellair pulled the chair out and without invitation, sat down across from the man. He leaned back in the seat and looked at him for a long moment, silently appraising him.

“Ye’re Carson McCabe,” Ellair said.

“Who’s askin’?”

“Me name’s Ellair.”

“That supposed tae mean somethin’ tae me?”

“Nae at all.”

Ellair gestured to the barmaid for a fresh round of drinks. She nodded and scurried away. They sat in silence, just staring at one another until she returned with two large cups of mead, setting one down in front of each of them. Ellair gave her a coin that more than covered the tab.

“Keep it,” he said.

The woman lit up and smiled. “Thank ye, me laird.”

“I’m nay laird.”

“Well, thank ye anyway.”

Ellair nodded as she turned and scurried away again to tend to the rest of the crowd. He picked up his cup and raised it to Carson. The man studied him uncertainly for a moment before picking up his cup and raising it to Ellair in return.

“And what are we drinkin’ too?” he asked.

“New friends.”

“Is that what we are?” Carson asked. “New friends?”

“I’m certainly hopin’ so.”

The man took a long swallow of the ale, then belched. Ellair winced. He could be rough sometimes and didn’t have delicate sensibilities, but he was never so uncouth.

“So. New friend,” Carson said. “What is this all about?”

“I’m hopin’ ye can give me some information.”

He chuckled. “I dinnae think I ken anythin’ worth kennin’.”

“I dinnae think ‘tis exactly true.”

The man eyed him for a long moment. “All right. I’ll bite,” he said. “What is runnin’ around in me head that has ye so interested?”

Ellair took a long swallow of his mead and set the cup back down. “I heard ye once upon a time worked fer the Widow.”

A shadow crossed over his face, and he seemed to draw in on himself. The man leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, his expression hard, like dark stone.

“I dinnae ken what ye’re talkin’ about,” he said, his tone as hard as his face. “I got nay idea who ye’re talkin’ about.”

Chuckling to himself, Ellair pulled a coin out of his purse and set it on the table. The man’s eyes widened slightly, but he remained silent. Ellair added a second and then a third coin to the stack and sat back, holding Carson’s gaze.

“What about now?” he asked. “Got any idea who I’m talkin’ about now?”

Carson reached across the table to grab the coins, but Ellair was quicker, snatching the coins up and sitting back in his chair with a grin on his face.

“Information first,” he said.

The man frowned and sat back. He stared at Ellair, the wheels in his head turning wildly. The man seemed to be weighing the sure money against the possibility of running afoul of somebody who might take exception to him talking to Ellair. It took a long moment of internal struggle, but the prospect of having cold, hard coin in his hand won out.

“Fine,” he said. “Ask yer bleedin’ questions.”

“Ye worked for the Widow.”

“Ye said that.”

“But ye’ve nae confirmed it.”

The man sighed. “Aye. I worked for her and her husband before that. But ‘twas a long time ago and I’ve nae got a bad word tae say about her. She was good tae me.”

“Then why dinnae ye work for her anymore?”

He frowned and an expression akin to shame crossed his face. “I’m nae as good with a blade as I should be. Almost got meself killed. Almost got her killed. The Widow said she could have her man train me, but I… I was ashamed. I left.”

The fact that she inspired such loyalty to people, even years after they worked for her, spoke well of her character, of how she treated people. It wasn’t anything Ellair didn’t already know about her, but it was good to see it wasn’t just his bias making him think that of her.

“All right,” he said. “What dae ye ken about her arrangements with Sinclair. Why is she daein’ his dirty work?”

He frowned. “I dinnae ken the details. The Widow was good tae me, but I wasnae part of her inner circle like that. She didnae share things like that.”

“I understand. But surely workin’ so close with her, ye heard things.”

Ellair could see the battle raging in his head, even still. His loyalty to Rosalind versus the coin he was promising. His desire to protect her was admirable.

“I’m nae lookin’ tae hurt her,” Ellair said gently. “I’m just tryin’ tae figure a couple of things out for meself. I work fer her now.”

“If ye work fer her, why dinnae ye ask her yer questions yerself?”

“Because… I’m just tryin’ tae understand the woman I’m goin’ tae be puttin’ me life in jeopardy fer,” he replied evenly. “And I’m tryin’ tae help her. I understand enough tae ken she’s in a bad way with Sinclair. I want tae help get her out of it if I can.”

Carson searched his eyes, looking for the truth. He apparently found it because he gave himself a small nod, as if convincing himself it was all right to talk to him.

“Like I said, I dinnae ken all the specifics. All I ken is what I heard other men speakin’ on,” he said. “And what I heard is that Sinclair is holdin’ somebody close tae the Widow. A braither or cousin maybe, I’m nae sure. But he’s usin’ their life as the leverage tae force her tae work fer him. I dinnae ken any more than that. I dinnae ken if that’s even true. ‘Tis just a rumor I heard.”

Ellair sat back in his chair and frowned as he mulled it over for a moment. It made sense. It fit with what she’d said the night she’d rescued him from the warehouse when she had said Sinclair had something that belonged to her. At the time, he hadn’t been able to imagine what it was but knowing it could be kin… it made sense. Having the life of her kin in Sinclair’s hands made it very believable that she’d work for him. Carson’s words seemed to confirm his belief that she was working for Sinclair against her will.

“All right. Thank ye fer the information. ‘Tis very helpful,” Ellair said as he put the coins down on the table in front of the man then added two more to the stack. “Get a hot meal.”

Ellair got to his feet and headed out of the tavern. Knowing Sinclair was moving English goods into the Highlands, and was leveraging Rosalind to do it, told him a lot. The plan started coming together in his mind. Sinclair was in bed with the English, everybody knew that. And by arming the smaller clans in the Highlands suggested her was seeking to destabilize the area and weaken clan Gunn, making it easier for Sinclair to move in and take over.

And once he had control of Gunn lands—and the Highlands in general—who knew what Sinclair would do then. But he knew enough to know the man’s ambition was limitless. He thought it likely that, with English backing, Sinclair would eventually move to take over all of Scotland itself. That didn’t seem outside the realm of possibility.

But once again, Ellair was struck by how shortsighted the man was. Once he had eliminated all meaningful opposition and taken over all of Scotland, positioning himself to be the king, did he really expect the English to pull back and let him rule? No, they had been trying to eradicate the Scots for centuries. How could he think they would let him not only survive, but thrive in a land they had long coveted. Unless he was arrogant enough to believe he could take on and defeat the English as well?

That would be the height of arrogance… which fit with what Ellair knew of the man.

The one question that remained lodged in his mind was what to tell Rosalind. If he went to her with what he knew and what he believed, he would be giving himself away. She would know he was not a hired sword but something else. She would likely feel betrayed. And he supposed he couldn’t blame her. He was betraying her.

As he made his way back to the compound, his mind spinning wildly, he decided his course of action. He would write to Laird Gunn and tell him what he had learned. He would lay out the situation for him and tell him Rosalind is not who or what he thought she was. He would take up her case and fight for her with Laird Gunn. He would protect her… as he’d sworn to do.

Until he worked it out with Laird Gunn, he would not say a word to Rosalind about anything he’d been up to.