Page 59 of Healing the Highland Sinner
Ellair gave her a nod and slipped a couple of coins onto her tray. She gave him a grateful smile then turned and hustled away. Ellair raised his cup to Laird Gunn then took a long swallow of the ale. The other man didn’t move. He remained sitting, frozen like a statue, staring at him. He finally let out a breath and picked up his cup.
“I hear ye had some trouble last night,” Gunn said.
“Aye. Naethin’ we couldnae handle.”
“The bruises on yer face and the way ye’re movin’ say ye took quite a beatin’.”
Ellair shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“And now there’s a bounty on yer head.”
Ellair chuckled. “Ye dae have yer ear tae tae ground here, dinnae ye?”
“When ye’re a laird, ye need eyes and ears everywhere.”
“And yet, yer eyes and ears dinnae tell ye that Sinclair has a secret compound just outside of town, on the border with the MacKays.”
Gunns’ eyes widened. “Are ye certain of this?”
“Barely escaped from there with me life. So, aye, I’m certain.”
“Bleedin’ hell,” he muttered.
Gunn sat back and seemed to mull over the information for a moment, draining half his cup of ale in the process. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic and sat forward.
“What else have ye learned?” he asked.
“I’ve learned that Sinclair is indeed usin’ Thurso’s smugglers tae move English arms and coin intae the Highlands. He’s armin’ yer enemies with an eye on makin’ a move,” Ellair said. “He’s usin’ this town as a center fer his operations, I’m guessin’. That secret compound he’s got is filled with soldiers and more are on the way.”
Gunn ran a hand over his face but nodded. “’Tis what I expected.”
“I also need ye tae ken that Rosalind—the Widow—is bein’ made tae work fer Sinclair against her will,” he said. “He’s holdin’ her braither, threatenin’ him with death if she daesnae dae as he orders her tae dae.”
“I see. So the Widow is a she… interesting.”
“Daes that make a difference?”
“Nay, I’m just surprised. ‘Tis a tough world to work in, although we ken she daes her job well enough. But she’s aidin’ the enemy?—”
“She’s got nae bleedin’ choice, Torrin,” he cut him off with a harsh whisper. “Did ye nae hear me tell ye he’s got her braither.”
“She’s makin’ a choice.”
“Would ye nae make the same choice if yer kin, the only person ye had in the world, was bein’ held at the point of a blade?”
Gunn sat back, his eyes searching Ellair’s face. After a long, silent moment, something akin to understanding blossomed on his face.
“Ye’ve come tae care fer the woman,” he said.
Ellair shifted in his seat. “I just ask that ye give her quarter. That ye understand what she daes it nae because she’s lookin’ tae harm ye. She’s doin’ it tae save her braither.”
“Have ye fallen in love with her?” Gunn asked him bluntly.
Ellair cleared his throat then took a long swallow of ale, trying to wash down the lump that had suddenly formed. There was no use lying to the man since he saw right through him anyway. But perhaps, if he was honest and upfront with him, he might take mercy on Rosalind when he formed his response to Sinclair’s aggression. He wanted to make sure he knew she was not responsible for what was happening.
He sighed. “Laird Gunn—Torrin—I cannae keep daein’ this. I cannae keep lyin’ tae Rosalind,” he said. “I’ve gotten proof that she’s nae responsible fer what Sinclair is up tae. She’s bein’ forced tae help him.”
“I understand what ye’re sayin’. I hear ye, Ellair,” he said. “And if ye feel the need tae tell her who ye are and what ye’re about, ‘tis yer business. All I’m goin’ tae say is that she may view what ye did as a betrayal. And from what I understand, she’s a woman who values loyalty. She may nae easily forgive.”
