Page 24 of Healing the Highland Sinner
“Couldnae tell ye. Nae fer certain,” she replied. “But it sounds tae me like Dashiell may be lookin’ tae move up the ladder by takin’ out the Widow. ‘Tis the way of things in Thurso. Everybody always lookin’ tae step on or over somebody tae improve their lot. Bunch of schemin’ backstabbin’ arses.”
Her words sent a lance of guilt through Ellair’s heart, for he too, was a scheming, backstabbing arse. He was not cut out for that kind of work.
“There’s somethin’ else he said I found curious,” she said.
“And what was that then?”
“He said they’d be runnin’ more cargo tae some of the other clans.”
“Aye? Like who?”
“Some of the smaller clans like Barclay, Dunbar, Glen… though I dinnae why. They’re small clans who dinnae have the coin the Sinclairs dae,” she said.
Ellair paused, a frown stretching his lips as he started to see the plan that was being played out. At least, his theory of the plan. What Nyssa didn’t seem to know was that Clans Barclay, Dunbar, and Glen, though small, were staunch allies of Clan Sinclair. They were also renowned fighters. Fierce and stubborn,their small clans had managed to continue existing because they killed anybody who moved against them. Of course, Sinclair had moved quickly to ally with them.
And now, cargo coming from London, which he had to assume was English gold and weapons, was secretly flowing north and into the hands of Sinclair and his allies. What was happening became obvious to Ellair. The English, acting through their surrogate—some might say puppet—Hugh Sinclair, were arming an opposition to Clan Gunn, potentially destabilizing the area, making it easier for Sinclair to conquer. With such a force, backed by the English, aligning against him, Laird Gunn wouldn’t be able to stand for long. And neither would his.
What that donkey Hugh Sinclair wasn’t taking into account in his grand plan of conquest were the English themselves. He believed the English, because he had a fancy English title and lands in the south, were his ally and friends. But Ellair knew them for what they were: rabid dogs. The English had wanted to wipe out the Scottish for centuries and they had found a useful idiot in Hugh Sinclair. He was all too happy to do their bidding for a chance at power and wealth for himself. The man who would be king was willing to betray his countrymen for outside invaders.
What Sinclair didn’t seem to understand was that a rabid dog, though docile at times, would eventually turn on you. What he didn’t see was that once the English got all they wanted and Sinclair was no longer useful to them, they would do to him what he did to his countrymen. The English wanted Scotland. And they wanted it without Scots. But Sinclair was too greedy,consumed with his own power, and shortsighted to actually see it.
“Did he tell ye anythin’ else?” Ellair asked.
“Nay. He fell asleep soon after that. The lad daesnae have much in the way of stamina,” she said with a laugh.
Ellair grinned at her. “Or maybe ye just take it out of ‘em?”
“’Tis possible,” she replied and trailed her fingertip down his chest, her blue eyes glittering in the fading light. “Ye could always find out fer yerself…”
There was a time, Ellair probably would have taken Nyssa up on her offer without thinking twice about it. But as he pondered the idea of seeing her naked, he realized she did not hold the appeal she would have had at any other time. All Ellair could think about was Rosalind. When he thought of her, he felt the swell of desire he had once enjoyed at the sight of most any beautiful woman. It was confounding.
He cleared his throat and offered her a grin. “I wish I had the time taenight, love. But perhaps another time.”
“I’ll hold ye tae that.”
Ellair pulled a small but full black purse from beneath his cloak and bounced it in his hand. The sound of the coins clinking against each other filled the air between them. He gave her asmile and handed it over to Nyssa. She took the purse and it disappeared from view like she was a sorcerer and had banished it to another realm.
“Ye be careful, lass,” he said.
“Ye be careful yerself.”
“Always.”
She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, her gaze lingering on his for a long moment before she gave him a smile. She turned and walked away, disappearing as swiftly as the purse she’d claimed from him. Ellair turned to go and felt his skin prickling as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end again.
He looked left and right, searching the faces in the crowd around him, but nobody seemed to be paying any undue attention to him. He saw no shadowy figures in the alleyways standing around watching him, nor anybody approaching. And yet, the feeling of being watched persisted. A frown spread across his face as he pulled his hood down low, concealing his face in shadow, and his cloak around himself a bit tighter.
Unable to find the source of his unease, Ellair started moving away, melting into the crowd. He needed to get back to Rosalind’s compound before he was missed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Aye. I followed him last night,” Ciar said quietly.
Rosalind looked at him aghast. “And why’d ye dae that? I didnae ask ye tae dae that.”
“Because we need tae ken that we can trust the lad. And it’s me job tae watch yer back.”
Her frown deepened as she glanced over her shoulder. Ellair walked behind them, strolling as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The way his shoulders were bunched though, betrayed his seeming casualness. She could see that he was tensed and ready to fight and would have his sword out in the blink of an eye if any trouble came to them—something that wasn’t outside the realm of possibility in this section of Thurso at night.
