Healing the Highland Sinner – Bonus Prologue
Ellair turned his face up to the sky, relishing the warmth of the sun beating down upon him. It seemed like it had been forever since he’d felt it.
“Are ye goin’ tae stand there lookin’ up at the sky all day? Or are ye goin’ tae spar?”
Laughing, Ellair turned to Tyree, one of his most loyal and capable soldiers, and outside of his brother Cormac, his closest friend. He was Ellair’s second and helped him oversee the castle guard. With his brother living in Clan Robertson lands, there was nobody inside Castle MacAulay Ellair trusted more.
He wiped the sweat from his face and his chest with a cloth. He and Tyree had been sparring for a couple of hours now, getting in a good workout in the fresh air after the rain had cooped them up for the previous couple of weeks. It felt nice to have the cool air on his skin and the sun on his face.
“Are ye in a hurry tae look foolish again then?” Ellair asked.
“Again? That suggests ye’ve made me look foolish before.”
Ellair scoffed. “Only every time we spar, lad.”
Tyree laughed and waved him off. “Seems the sun is makin’ ye delusional. Should we take ye down tae the healer tae see about that?”
Ellair picked up his blunted practice sword and spun it around in his hand. He was already well used to the heft of it, but he still enjoyed the way it felt. Nothing felt so natural to him as a good blade in his hand.
“All right,” Ellair said. “Let’s get this over with so ye can cry about the sun bein’ in yer bleedin’ eyes when ye lose again.”
Tyree’s laughter echoed around the small courtyard. They began circling around each other, sizing each other up, which was kind of pointless. The one drawback to sparring against his friend every day was that they knew each other’s moves as well as they knew their own. It was difficult to surprise each other. That was one reason Ellair always worked on new forms and techniques. Not being predictable in a fight was how you lived to a ripe old age.
With a growl, Tyree darted in, the point of his blade leading the way. It was a move Ellair had seen countless times before. The man feinted to the left then came back to the right with a hard slash. Ellair turned it away with ease. But then Tyree threw in a new wrinkle, driving his foot into his midsection. The blow caught Ellair off guard and drove the breath from his lungs. He stumbled backward. Tyree was on him in the blink of an eye, and it was all Ellair could do to fend him off. Steel clashed against steel as they traded blows.
Ellair danced back out of range of Tyree’s repeated blows and laughed. “Ye’ve learned somethin’ new then, eh?”
“Got tae keep ye on yer toes, lad.”
“Ye’re goin’ tae have tae try harder.”
Tyree laughed and dashed in again. Ellair traded blows with his second. He worked up a good sweat and kept working until his muscles were sore. When they finally broke for water, he was breathing hard and worn out but satisfied with the day’s work.
“Call it a draw?” Tyree offered.
Ellair took a long swallow of water and nodded. “Aye. Call it a draw.”
“Maister MacLaren?”
Ellair turned to see Shaw, one of Laird MacAulay’s pages, standing in the archway. He was a young boy, no more than twelve or thirteen summers, slight of frame, with white blond hair and blue eyes. The boy wanted to be part of the household guard, so Ellair had been giving him lessons with a blade to help. He had a long way to go.
“What is it, Shaw?”
“Laird MacAulay has asked fer ye,” the boy said. “He wants ye tae meet him in his study.”
Ellair nodded. “All right. I’ll be along shortly.”
“He said now, maister.”
“I’ll nae be seein’ me laird smellin’ like an ox,” Ellair said.
“How’s that different from any other time ye see him?” Tyree said with a laugh.
Ellair shot him a grin. “Shut it,” he said then turned back to the page. “I need tae clean meself up and put on some fresh clothes. I’ll be along in just a moment.”
Shaw gave him a respectful nod. “Aye, maister. I’ll let him ken.”
“Thank ye.”
Shaw departed and Ellair grabbed the cloth and wiped the sweat off himself again.
“What did ye dae this time?” Tyree asked.
“Nae sure,” he replied. “But whatever it is, I’ll make sure tae tell him it was yer fault.”
***
Ellair stepped into Laird MacAulay’s study and closed the door behind him. The large chamber was paneled in dark wood and decorated with rich blue and red tapestries and rugs. A big fireplace dominated the far wall, but it was warm out, so it remained cold and unlit. Golden rays of light slanted in through the windows, making the motes of dust dancing around in them shine.
Laird MacAulay stood at his desk to Ellair’s left with his chief advisor, Hugo Buchanan. The man was tall and fair, with golden hair that fell to his shoulders and dark eyes that glinted with mystery. He was thick through the shoulders and chest, a bear of a man, but he had a pleasant demeanor most of the time. Ellair couldn’t think of a single time he’d ever seen the man lose his temper. But he knew if Hugo did, he could tear a man in half with his bare hands.
The air in the study was thick with tension. Laird MacAulay’s face was pinched, his lips a tight slash and his eyes narrow and hard.
“Good of ye tae make it, Ellair,” MacAulay grumbled.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Domhnall,” Ellair said. “I was sparrin’ with Tyree all mornin’ and wanted tae clean meself up rather than come in here smellin’ like an ox. What’s happened?”
Hugo held up a letter he was holding. “This.”
Ellair walked over, took the parchment from him and quickly read the scrawled text. While he understood there was some urgency in the words, he wasn’t sure he understood the context of the letter.
“I’m afraid I dinnae ken much about Laird Gunn,” Ellair admitted.
“Laird Torrin controls a lot of land in the Highlands,” MacAulay said. “We’ve been tryin’ tae make an alliance fer a little while now.”
“But ye’ve nae made that alliance yet?”
“Nae yet.”
“Then why is he askin’ fer yer help?”
“Because what’s happenin’ has the potential tae affect us all.”
“How so?” Ellair asked.
MacAulay turned to Hugo and nodded. His advisor turned to Ellair, his expression grim.
“There is a smuggler—the Widow—who is moving goods fer Laird Hugh Sinclair intae the Highlands. They’re sending English arms and gold tae the smaller clans that surround Laird Gunn. With English backin’, they’re buyin’ loyalty and soldiers,” Hugo explained. “If they succeed and take up arms against Laird Gunn, it seems safe tae say that we might be next—”
“Hugh Sinclair is a devious, duplicitous man whose ambition kens nay bounds,” Domhnall said. “He wants tae rule all of Scotland.”
Hugo chuffed. “If he had his way, he’d rule the entire world.”
Domhnall nodded. “Aye. Ye’re nae wrong, the man is vicious,” he said. “He’s never satisfied with what he has, always wants more—”
“And he’ll kill anybody who stands in his way tae get it.”
“Aye. That he will,” Domhnall said. “And we cannae let that happen.”
“All right, so what can we dae about it?” Ellair asked.
Domhnall and Hugo exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable. It was clear to Ellair though, that some bit of silent communication had just passed between them. They had obviously already talked it over and had come up with a plan.
“We need ye tae go tae Thurso,” Domhnall said. “There ye’ll meet with Laird Gunn. We’ll be sendin’ word tae him that ye’ll be goin’. We want ye tae find out who this Widow is. Get tae ken him. Earn his trust and find out if he kens Sinclair’s bigger plan. I dinnae trust anyone other tae send there, except Hugo and ye. And ye are the best with a sword in the whole castle.”
Ellair’s heart fell into the pit of his stomach and his mouth grew dry. This was worse than what he’d even imagined.
“Respectfully, Domhnall, but I dinnae think this is somethin’ I’d be good at,” he said. “I’m nae a spy, I’m a—”
“Ye’re me War Chief.”
“Aye. I am.”
“This is a matter of war,” Domhnall said. “If Sinclair succeeds, all the Highlands will be in open war. We want tae prevent that if we can.”
Ellair sighed, still unconvinced. He wasn’t a spy, he was a sword arm. Truthfully, there were days he wondered why Domhnall had made him his War Chief at all. He was grateful for the trust, but there were times he didn’t feel that he’d earned it. He sometimes felt in over his head and this was one of those times.
“Ellair,” Domhnall said, his tone softer. “I really need yer help, me friend.”
He looked up at his longtime friend and saw the concern for what might happen etched into his features. Laird MacAulay always thought of his people before anything and open war in the Highlands would not just destroy their land, it would kill a great many of them.
“Go tae Thurso and meet with Laird Gunn,” Domhnall pressed, his voice soft but urgent. “Find this Widow and put a stop tae him, will ye?”
Ellair nodded. “Aye. I’ll go. I’ll stop the Widow.”
Enjoyed this bonus chapter? Dive back into the adventure and continue the journey on your e-reader. Happy reading!
You’ve got my attention, Fiona! Ellair has quite a task to encounter. Let the journey begin!
I’m so glad to hear that my dear, and I’m thrilled to have your attention! Ellair certainly has a challenging journey ahead of her, and I can’t wait for you to experience it all. Let’s dive into the adventure together! 📚❤️