Page 41 of Healing the Highland Sinner
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.
