Page 61 of Healing the Highland Sinner
“What the hell dae ye mean the shipment wastaken?” Rosalind shouted.
The man who’d captained the ship frowned and looked down, wringing his hat in his hands. He swallowed hard and raised his head again.
“The ship was boarded, me lady, by men wearin’ the standards of Clan Sinclair,” he said. “They took the goods we was movin’ and replaced it with these crates.”
Rosalind’s eyes drifted from the man’s crew, most of them bruised and battered, but still alive, to the stacks of crates that lined the ship’s deck. The shipment they had been moving was one of her legitimate jobs. She had been sending food stores to a port further along the coast.
“They sent us back here with their goods and a message fer ye.”
“What is the message?”
The captain licked his lips and handed her an envelope then backed away quickly as if afraid she was going to strike him. She cast a look at Ellair, who stood silently off to the side, his body taut, his face pensive, but he gave her an encouraging nod. He had been off all day. It was clear to her that something was on his mind, but she hadn’t yet pressed him on it. She’d decided that she would let him come to her with it when he was ready.
With a sigh, Rosalind opened the envelope and pulled the sheet of parchment out. As she did, something else fell out and landed on the deck at her feet. Frowning, she bent down to pick it up and when she did, her eyes widened, and a low, anguished groan passed her lips. Her heart leapt into her throat and her stomach clenched painfully.
“Bleedin’ hell,” she gasped.
“What is it?” Ellair asked.
She held up the lock of hair tied with a red ribbon. “’Tis Blaine’s hair.”
Ellair strode over and took it from her to inspect. His face tightened and his expression darkened as he raised his gaze to her once more.
“What about the note?” he asked.
She’d been so shocked, she’d almost forgotten about the letter that had come with it. Rosalind unfolded the note and felt her heart drop from her throat into the pit of her belly.
“Ye are tae deliver this shipment tae Clan Ulstead upriver. And after that, ye are tae intercept a shipment tae Clan Gunn and deliver it tae me,” she read aloud. “Dae these things now or the next thing I send ye will be yer braither’s head.”
She dropped the letter to the deck of the boat and turned away, staring out at the expanse of water before her. Rosalind fought the waves of emotion that battered her, refusing to let herself give in to them. She took a deep, shuddering breath and held it, as fear for her brother and rage at Sinclair warred within her. He was toying with her. Teasing her and using the threat of her brother’s death to lock her in a cage there was no escape from.
Much like the man who had virtually enslaved Ellair’s brother, using promises of his freedom to keep Cormac doing his bidding, Sinclair was using Blaine’s life to keep her in bondage.
“Are ye all right?” Ellair asked as he stood beside her.
“Nay. I’m really nae.”
He gave her arm a gentle squeeze then quickly removed his hand. It almost broke her. She was fighting the tempest of emotions churning within her. She had worked so hard to be strong, to make herself iron and steel, to not let herself be affected by what was happening around her. It was the only way to make it in that world.
And yet, there she was, almost completely undone. Sinclair was trying to bend her to his will. And for the first time since he took Blaine from her, Rosalind felt herself starting to give. She felt the first cracks in her armor starting to form and knew it was only a matter before she shattered completely.
“If I dinnae dae Sinclair’s biddin’, he’s goin’ tae kill Blaine,” she said softly. “Me braither’s blood will be on me hands.”
“It will nae come tae that,” he said. “We will find a way tae get him back.”
“Nae soon enough. We’ve got two days tae get this shipment upriver. And tae take Laird Gunn’s shipment,” she said. “If I fail, he’ll kill me braither.”
“We will find a way out of this.”
“I dinnae see a way out of this, Ellair. He’s got me hemmed in.”
Ellair sighed and stared out at the water for a moment. The only sound between them were the cries of the shorebirds circling overhead and the gentle slap of the water against the hull of the boat. He finally turned to her, his face etched with resolve and determination.
“Come. We need tae be away from here for a bit. Tae let ye clear yer head,” he said, then turned to the captain. “Ye and yer men tend tae yer wounds and stay with this ship. We’ll be back soon with instructions on how tae proceed, eh?”
The man nodded. “Very good.”
Rosalind let him take her hand and lead her down the docks. She felt completely numb. As if she no longer had it in her to be afraid or angry anymore. Those cracks in her armor grew wider as her full and total collapse seemed as imminent as it was inevitable. There was no way out of this. Not without either Blaine being killed, or if she did as Sinclair wanted, many, many more people she would never know being killed.
