Page 23 of Healing the Highland Sinner (Tales of the Maxwell Lasses #7)
CHAPTER 23
“ A nd ye’re certain of this?” Ellair asked.
The small, thin man nodded. “Aye. I’m certain. I talked tae the man who carried the letter meself. Laird Sinclair is movin’ more men that way soon.”
“Did he say why?”
“I’m afraid nae,” the man replied. “But from what the man said, he’s got somethin’ under lock and key at his compound.”
Ellair was troubled. Having troops moved in secret sounded to him like the precursor to something large. Something bad. Was he going to move on Rosalind? The town of Thurso as a whole? Was this what Rosalind had been moving his goods for? Was this his endgame?
“Dae ye have any idea what he’s keepin’ such tight rein on up there?” Ellair asked.
“Nay,” the man said, shaking his head. “’Tis a big secret, it is. But if ye were tae ask me, the man is up tae nay good.”
Ellair pulled a few coins from his pocket and handed them over to the man who snatched them away with practiced ease. The coins disappeared into the folds of his robes.
“Is there anythin’ else I can dae fer ye?”
“I’ll be in touch if there’s anythin’ else I require.”
“Ye ken where tae find me.”
“Aye. That I dae.”
The man turned and melted into the darkness of the night, leaving Ellair standing alone in the shadows of the alley. He’d wanted to stay far away from the bustling docks and well away from any prying eyes and ears. It took some doing but using the network of informants he’d been able to build in Thurso, he had managed to hear a rumor that Laird Sinclair kept a secret compound in the woods just outside of town, near the border with Clan MacKay.
He didn’t know whether he was being told the truth or not. But if nothing else, it was worth getting a closer look. Knowing what Sinclair was up to could never be a bad thing. That was why, after reluctantly leaving Rosalind’s bed, he had slipped into the night, spoken to that man and traveled a long and circuitous route that led him through the thick, dark forest and allowed him to approach Sinclair’s compound from the back side, where he hoped there would be fewer eyes to see him coming.
Keeping his eyes moving and his footsteps as quiet as possible, Ellair moved through the darkness, flitting from tree to tree, stretching out his senses and straining to hear the sound of Sinclair’s men, who might be lurking in the woods. He made it to the edge of the tree line and squatted down, sheltering behind a large bush beside the wide trunk of a tree. Through the darkness, he spotted the palisade that surrounded a complex of buildings. Lantern light glowed softly at windows in several of them, and he could see the shadowy figures of armed and armored guards moving about.
“Clever, clever,” he muttered.
The compound wasn’t overly large but seemed to be well defended. It was far enough away from Thurso and hidden among the thick and soaring trees of the forest well enough that nobody was going to find it if they weren’t looking for it. But it was still close enough to town that if he wanted to stage an attack, this compound would serve as a good launching point. It was also a good place to hide somebody he did not want found.
From his position among the trees, Ellair could see at least a dozen men walking the grounds of the compound. He could hear the echoes of their laughter and murmured conversation, though he was too far away to make out individual words. If he wanted to gain information that would prove valuable, he would need to get closer.
Moving slowly and cautiously, careful to avoid stepping on dry twigs or rustling the undergrowth, Ellair picked his way down the gentle slope. He paused and hunkered down behind a shrub, watching the compound in front of him. A pair of men walked by on the other side of the palisade, talking in low tones with each other.
Ellair waited for them to turn the corner, disappearing behind one of the outbuildings, then stepped out from behind the bush and slipped through the palisade. He moved quickly to the building nearest to him, pressing his back against the wall and waited. Hearing nothing, he leaned around the corner and took a quick look. Not seeing anybody, he moved to the next building. Light glowed at the window and when he peered over the sill, he saw it was empty inside.
He moved to the next building. Some men were lounging about inside, drinking and laughing boisterously. Ellair was about to turn toward the next structure when he spotted a small shack sitting just off in the distance. The light that showed at the windows was dim, but through the narrow window, he spotted a shadow moving. Although it was plain and unassuming, something about the building caused red flags in his head and piqued his curiosity.
Picking his way carefully across the open ground, Ellair made it to the curious building and pressed himself against the wall. His heart thundering in his ears and his stomach churning, fully expecting to hear guards shouting at him to stop, he looked around. He was alone but he knew that was a situation that could change quickly.
The sound of heavy footsteps and men’s voices rang in his ears, sending a flash of lightning crackling through his veins. Ellair ducked behind the small building. He listened to them being thrown open followed by boots on the wooden floor. Ellair slipped around the other side of the building and paused at the corner of the window and peered inside.
The first thing he saw was a large, broad-shouldered man in a leather breastplate standing in the center of the room, thick arms folded over a wide chest. His short dark hair was streaked with silver and his gray eyes were narrowed and hard. Ellair had no idea who he was, but the man had a commanding presence about him.
“Yer sister is provin’ tae be more difficult than she’s worth,” the man said.
Ellair’s eyes followed the man’s gaze to another man sitting in a chair, hands bound behind his back, looking weary and defeated. The sitting man’s face was swollen and bruises in several shades of deep, dark purple marred his otherwise fair complexion. The prisoner’s hair was chestnut brown, and his delicate features were familiar. But when he opened his eyes and Ellair saw their shade of green, his heart leapt into his throat. He knew exactly who it was.
“Bleedin’ hell,” he muttered to himself.
The man in armor delivered a vicious backhand to the man in the chair, rocking his head to the side. The prisoner let out a low, agonized groan as fresh blood spilled from the corner of his mouth. Ellair winced, fighting the urge to wade in and free the man. With so many other guards in the compound, he would likely only get himself killed before actually freeing him.
“Yer bleedin’ sister is goin’ tae get ye killed,” the armored man said. “I just thought ye should ken why ye’re dyin’ when we put a blade in yer belly. All she had tae dae was follow simple instructions and she cannae dae that. ‘Tis like she wants me tae send yer head tae her. How daes that make ye feel?”
The prisoner’s voice was low and garbled and Ellair couldn’t make out what he said. But he followed his words with a throaty, harsh laugh. The armored man struck him again, harder this time. The prisoner groaned, miserable. Ellair huddled against the wall of the building, trying to figure out what to do. He didn’t want to leave the man in there to be tortured and tormented. But if he was going to have any success in freeing him, he wouldn’t be able to do it on his own.
“Ye there! Stop right there!”
White hot adrenaline poured into Ellair’s veins when two men appeared in the compound yard and rushed toward him, drawing their swords as they came.
“Bleedin’ hell,” he said.
Moving on instinct, Ellair turned and darted into the darkness. He jumped through the palisade and stumbled as he hit the ground but quickly righted himself as he clambered up the slope. Behind him, men were shouting and he could hear the sound of swords being drawn and heavy footsteps on the earth as Sinclair’s guards gave chase.
Ellair ran as fast as his legs would carry him, dodging rocks and jumping over exposed roots, clinging to the dark pools of shadow that covered the floor of the forest around him. He zig-zagged around rock formations and trees, darted up slopes and down the other side. Ellair leapt over streams and down the bank of a river, his breath ragged, his lungs burning, and his legs feeling as if they might give out at any moment.
Eventually, the sound of pursuit faded into the distance behind him. He pulled up and leaned against the wide trunk of a tree, doubling over to catch his breath. He wheezed and gasped, sinking to his backside to give his legs a chance to recover. All the while, he kept listening, straining his ears, to hear whether Sinclair’s men had picked up his trail. Ellair leaned his head back against the hard wood and closed his eyes, taking long, measured breaths to slow his racing heart.
There was no doubt in his mind the man he’d seen tied to the chair had been Rosalind’s brother, Blaine. Sinclair had been keeping him under her nose this entire time. But what was he going to do about it?
He could write to Laird Gunn and Laird MacAulay, asking them for assistance with freeing the captured man. But would they actually come to Blaine’s aid? Doing so meant coming to Rosalind’s aid and neither of them were convinced she was innocent in all this. He still had quite a hill to climb to convince them she was merely an unwitting pawn in Sinclair’s machinations. He was confident he could make them see the truth of the matter, but he feared that Blaine did not have that kind of time. Especially now that Sinclair knew his secret compound had been found out.
The other option was to tell Rosalind what he’d found. Doing so might jeopardize his cover and force him to admit to her that he was working for Laird Gunn, which was a less than desirable option for a host of reasons. Aside from revealing himself though, he knew Rosalind could be rash. She acted with her heart… especially when it came to her brother. The guilt she carried over his current condition was close to driving her mad as it was. If he told her he knew where Blaine was being held, she would stop at nothing to get him back.
That would only ensure her getting herself killed. But more than that, launching an assault on a compound that was well manned and fortified—and with more men due to arrive at any point—it would be a fool’s errand.
But if she found out he knew where her brother was and kept that knowledge from her, Rosalind’s reaction would be as swift as it would be harsh. She might never forgive him for withholding that information no matter how good a reason he had. She wouldn’t see it as him protecting her, especially not from herself, so much as a betrayal.
Ellair sucked in a breath through his teeth and frowned. There were no easy answers to this conundrum, or good answers. It really was a case of dammed if he did and damned if he didn’t. He really had no viable path that would please anybody, and no matter what he did, Ellair was going to run afoul of somebody either by his actions, or his inaction.
So, he decided on the best course of action as he saw it—protecting Rosalind and doing his best to keep her alive. Which, of course, meant saying nothing about what he’d discovered and saying nothing about finding her brother. He would keep his lips sealed.
For now.