Page 42 of Sins of a Scot
A bitter wind blew off the sea that even Owen’s plaid could not protect him from. It cut through to his very bones, and he struggled to stop himself from quaking. Glancing down at Iseabail shivering beside him, he wished he could offer her something more substantial than her thick cloak, but alas, the thin blankets they had brought them would hardly suffice.
“I dae believe that if this boat doesnae arrive soon, I will freeze tae this very spot,” she said, her teeth chattering as she spoke.
“Why dinnae ye return tae the tavern,” Owen said, nodding to the building in sight behind them. “I can wait, and if I discover the merchant, I will come and fetch ye?”
“Nae!” She shook her head firmly. “I need tae be here. I’ve forced ye on this mission so ye can help me. I willnae take the easy road while ye suffer alone.”
“Yer words are noble and I appreciate them, Iseabail, but I think it foolish that both o’ us must suffer out here. Besides, I am the man and thus?—”
“Thus what?” she interrupted. “Ye are the stronger o’ the two o’ us? Is that what ye’re trying tae say?”
It was indeed what he was trying to say, because logically, it was the truth. He stood head and shoulders above her, and was at least as broad again.
“Ye are choosing now tae be stubborn?” He smirked down at her.
Iseabail grinned and shrugged. “Maybe I am stubborn. And o’ course ye are stronger than I. I mean, look at ye. Ye’re built like a house.”
“Aye. Maybe all that fighting has done me some good, right?” He grinned.
She rolled her eyes, but smiled despite herself. “I cannae imagine ‘tis all been from fighting.”
Owen was shaking his head and about to say something else, when he heard a holler from across the water. Turning toward the sound, he watched as the small boat dropped its sails and smoothly headed into the harbor.
“This has tae be it,” he said.
When the ropes were tied and the vessel secured, a small gangplank was laid from the boat to the shore. With eagle eyes, Owen gazed at every man crossing the gangplank, but as the boat emptied, the man they were looking for did not appear. When all had descended, the only one left looked to be the owner.
Owen approached and caught his attention. “We’re looking fer a merchant. A broad man with a scar on his neck here,” he said, pointing just below his ear.
The man recognized the description but shook his head. “I ken the man ye speak o’, but I’m afraid I have sorry news. He died on the island a few days back. Someone said he drowned near a river. I’m afraid I cannae tell ye any more than that.”
Owen dropped his head and heaved a sigh. “Fer the love o’ God.”
“Did ye ken him?” the sailor asked.
“Nay, we didnae ken him. We were looking for him because he was rumored tae be trading crystals, like this one.” Once again, Owen pulled his necklace from beneath his tunic and showed the sailor.
“Och, right.”
“Thanks fer yer time anyway,” Owen said, turning back to Iseabail.
“Now how are we tae find it?” she cried.
“Are ye looking fer the crystal itself?” the sailor asked, clearly overhearing Iseabail’s words.
Owen turned and took a step closer to the boat. “Aye. We are.”
“Well, I can tell ye where he took his wares, and how tae get tae the place. Ye might have better luck there.”
Owen cast Iseabail a quick glance, acknowledging her eager nod.
“Thank ye. Aye. We would appreciate that.”
The sailor then went on to tell them that the merchant travelled to Brunswick on the island of South Ronaldsay. He told them that the merchant always headed to the other side of the island where he traded with a woman there.
“I dinnae ken if she’ll be able tae help ye,” the sailor continued, “but it’s all I can tell ye.”
“Thank ye,” Iseabail said. “This is great news. When can we organize tae sail?”
