Page 36 of The Highlander's Virgin Widow
“I must say, M’Lady, yer suggestion about us meeting in the market was quite brilliant, after all.”
“I must say the same as well.” Keira smiled. “We need to talk.”
“Aye. I have been looking into some of the councilmen, ye ken—George and Lucas. I havenae discovered anything so far, but I am still scraping the surface. The two of them were the ones who wanted ye out the most after the former Laird died.”
Keira nodded. “And ye dinnae ken if they own other residences or anywhere else they can hide things?”
“Nae at the moment, but ye dinnae need to worry. I will find the culprit and do me best to protect ye like I always do.”
Harold took her hands and squeezed them gently, giving her a bright smile.
He was one of the very first men she had met when she got betrothed to Fletcher. He had been incredibly welcoming and nice to her as well. She remembered him telling her that he only became the man-at-arms to the former Laird at the age of nineteen and served him for fifteen years before he finally kicked the bucket.
He was not only one of her most trusted councilmen, but he was also one of the few people she counted on to protect her.
“I will always be on the lookout for ye,” he reassured her.
“Thank ye, Harold,” Keira murmured. They exchanged another smile, and she slowly slipped her hand from his. “I must make me way back to the castle. It’s getting dark, and I dinnae want to stumble through the night again.”
“Aye. I ken. Do ye need me to walk with ye?”
“Nay. Lesley is around here somewhere. I shall find her, and we will both make our way back to the castle. Ye dinnae need to worry.”
He nodded, and just as he had come, he slipped away and disappeared into the throng of people walking in and out of the market.
Keira sighed and let herself absorb the sounds around her for as long as she could. For now, she would try her best to remain as clueless as possible. The last thing she wanted was to terrify whoever was behind all of this and make it even harder to catch them.
She stepped away from the blacksmith’s stall and toward the herbs and roots section of the market. It did not take her long before she found Lesley. Her friend was haggling with a pale old woman about some root she could not name.
“Can ye believe the old crone wants to sell me this bunch of Tiberian root for twelve shillings? Twelve shillings?!” Lesley huffed once their eyes met.
“I suppose that is quite a high price?” Keira asked.
“High?! ‘Tis inhumane, is what it is.”
“For M’Lady…” the seller spoke up, her eyes darting between Keira and Lesley.
Keira recognized the look on the woman’s face. It was the same look every seller in the market had around her when they wanted to impress her. It was why she never came to the market to buy anything on her own.
“I will let it go for ten,” the old woman finished.
“Seven.” Lesley’s voice was sharp.
“Nine,” the woman countered, holding her gaze.
“Seven,” Lesley insisted.
“I cannae sell it for less than eight. I apologize.”
“I said se?—”
“Lesley!” Keira hissed.
Lesley swallowed and pulled out the coins in her pockets.
Soon, with the root tightly clutched in her hand, they both made their way out of the market and toward the castle.
“Ever since the Laird and his people arrived, things have become more expensive. I blame him and him alone,” Lesley muttered.
