Page 40 of The Scot Who Loved Her

The man punched his friend in the arm. “Ye’re lying.”

“Swear on my mum’s grave.” He made the sign of a cross over his chest, and Malcolm rolled his eyes.

“Did ye take a piece?” The friend grabbed at the dockhand’s coat as if he’d look in the pockets, but the dockhand slapped his hands away.

“They were as big as my forearm”—he held up his arm, making a fist—“would no’ have done to get caught with it, but I remember the ship. Do ye know ten men?”

The two of them looked around the bar, and Malcolm ducked his head, pretending to be nearly asleep.

“No’ sure I want to be tangled up with the men who’re running the ship,” the co-conspirator mused.

“Smugglers?” The dockhand raised a brow as if he’d not thought of that before.

“Aye. Rich smugglers. And right under everyone’s noses. We were paid one and half times our usual rate today to keep our mouths shut.”

“And here ye are blabbing on.”

The man chuckled and swigged another dram of whisky. “Aye. But only because I want the gold too.”

“How long is it in dock?”

“No’ sure.”

“Damn. We might have been able to round up a few dumb fools to get on there.”

“Nothing’s said and done yet. I’ll try to find out more tomorrow. I do know one thing: they’re headed to France, the bunch of rotten thieves. First, the French steal our king, then our prince, and they fail to show up when we need ’em. Then we go to war, again.” The man shook his head, and Malcolm felt the animosity all the way to his bones. The only thing he’d ever have in common with these men was his desire to see the French punished. Especially after what had been done to his cousin, Lorne. Alec and Euan had suffered at the hands of the French in the war too. Malcolm had seen plenty but had been lucky to come out the least scathed of them all.

“Ye were no’ even alive during the Jacobite rebellion. What beef do ye have from back then?”

“My great-grandda was killed when they did no’ show up.”

“Ah. Another dram, in the name of your great-grandda.”

The conversation then turned to whisky and women, and there was no more mention of the smugglers Malcolm was searching for or the men’s plans to rob them for that matter. But to know the ship was right there in port was a massive relief. They’d thought for certain that it had gone by now.

Something that one of the men had said stuck with Malcolm, tickling the back of his brain. The man had emphasizedrichsmugglers as if that were different than every other smuggler. And it confirmed his suspicions that the person in charge of this operation was a wealthy nob. Whether it was Viscount Helvellyn or someone else he was in league with, Malcolm was on the verge of finding out. And he was damned glad his prime suspects had come to Edinburgh so that he could.

“Good morning, miss.”Elaine entered her bedchamber just as Olivia rolled over in bed to launch herself out of it.

“Good morning, Elaine.” She’d not slept well, her mind racing with thoughts of Malcolm. And when she had slept, it had been reliving those moments in the gazebo, only this time, he did kiss her. As a result, she’d woken flushed and a little sweaty.

Elaine rushed to the windows, pulling open the curtains, her movements quiet and quick, which made the startling blaze of the sun in her eyes all the more of a punch of blinding brightness.

Olivia shaded her eyes. Elaine wasn’t normally so…rushed. Most mornings, she asked if she could open the curtains. “Is everything all right, Elaine?”

Elaine sighed and approached Olivia where she sat on the bed, glancing toward the door as if she expected Lady Helvellyn to burst through it.

“I’ve had a letter from my cousin, Marie.” She slipped the paper from her apron pocket and handed it to Olivia.

It was only a corner piece of paper, folded in half as if the writer had grabbed the first thing they could find. The script was tight and looked hurried, as if they didn’t have much time to scribble it out.

The lady has been moved to a wellness manor in Aberdeen.

“Aberdeen?” Olivia couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice.

They’d been in Edinburgh for days, and she’d not yet had a chance to go and find her sister, to sneak in and say hello, and now it was too late.

Marian had been taken to Aberdeen, which was hours away. Might as well have been a lifetime.

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