Read Highland Wolf (Highland Brides) Online

Authors: Lois Greiman

Tags: #Highland Romance, #Historical, #Highland HIstorical, #Scotland, #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical Romance, #Scottish History

Highland Wolf (Highland Brides) (9 page)

BOOK: Highland Wolf (Highland Brides)
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She laughed shakily. "Not a duke? That's ... ridiculous. 'E told me 'e was, but that I couldn't tell no one about 'im. Told me 'e loved me, that 'e wanted ta make me 'is wife, only 'e couldn't on account of 'e was already married."

"Betty ..." Roman stood up and stepped toward her. "I'm sorry."

"You're lyin'," she said, but her tone was high-pitched, and she backed away. "You're lyin' cause ya want me ta betray 'im."

Roman stopped. "I'm not lying, Betty. I talked ta people who would know. They said there's no duke in Firthport or anywhere near."

"You're just sayin' that cuz ya think ya can toss me on me back then."

Roman shook his head. "I wouldna do that, lass. And I wouldna lie."

"Yes, ya would. I know ya would. I know 'e loves me, and..." Her words faltered, and her face fell into her upraised hands. "Sweet Mary, I knew this would 'appen. I knew it would," she sobbed.

Roman stepped awkwardly forward. She melted into his arms like snow in sunshine.

"'E said 'e loved me. 'E said 'e did. But 'e 'adn't been 'ere for months. Every day... every night, I told myself, 'e'll come. And then last night..." She shook her head and sniffed against his shoulder. Her arms were tight and strong against his back. "Tonight, 'e did. It was so sweet. So fine. But then 'e ups and says, it's over. All over! 'E didn't 'ave no feelings for me at all. 'E was only usin' me," she sobbed.

"There now, lass," Roman soothed, stroking her hair. It felt as smooth and soft as kitten fur. "There now. Na man could be a man and na have feelings for ye."

"Yes 'e could. I'm just... nothin', nothin' at all."

"Yer a woman, Betty." He stroked her hair again. "Soft and kind and giving. And that's the best this world has ta offer a man."

She sniffed again. He stroked again.

"A beautiful woman with softness and fire and laughter. Na man could wish for more."

"'E said someday 'e'd take me away. 'E said 'is wife would never 'ave ta know. But 'e's been lyin' all along."

"He's the Shadow, isn't he, Betty? That's why ye said there was na such man?"

"The Shadow?" She chuckled, but the sound was dull and muffled against his shoulder. "Oh, 'e'd laugh if'n 'e 'eard ya say that. 'E'd laugh, 'e would. 'E liked ta think 'imself a brave adventurer, but 'e barely 'ad enough nerve ta venture out alone in the midst of the night. The littlest thing scared 'im. In fact, if 'e 'eard a noise, 'e'd up and run."

Roman scowled over her shoulder. So the man he saw last night was not the Shadow at all, but only some frightened little weasel of a man who would use Betty's lovely body then break her tender heart.

"Is that..." Betty drew away slightly. Her face was filled with anguish. "Ya thought the Shadow was my lover. That's why ya walked me 'ome that night. That's why ya've been 'angin' about. Ya was 'opin' ta catch the Shadow."

"Nay. I..." Roman began, but she backed abruptly out of his arms.

"Ya were 'iding out there in the dark, just waitin' like a spider when 'arry left 'ere. Then ya chased 'im down. Ya weren't interested in me at all. Ya were tryin' ta use me just like 'e did."

"Nay, Betty, I..."

"Well!" She laughed. The sound was harsh. "Ain't ya the bloomin' idiot! All this time believin' in the Shadow when Dagger's men probably took the jewels in the first place. And 'ere 'arry fooled ya just like 'e fooled me. 'E led ya a merry chase all the way to Backrow, and there Birley clonked ya on yer foolish 'ead."

"Betty, I didna mean ta—"

"Get out," she said. Her tone was low, but it was steady. "And don't come around again."

"Listen—"

"Out!" she shrieked, and, picking up the nearby bowl, flung it at his head.

Roman ducked, managing to escape the flying crockery. "If ye'd but listen, lass—"

"Out!" she screamed again. Searching wildly, she closed her hand over the flaming candlestick.

Roman liked to think he knew when he was beaten. Yanking the door open, he stepped outside and swung the portal closed behind him.

It had been one hell of a night. A wild chase. A concussion. A raving woman. And the realization that every clue he had about the Shadow was false. But she had said something...

Dagger probably took it anyway,
she'd said. But Dagger who? That's what he had to find out.

Inside the house, Betty held her breath and listened to Roman's retreating footsteps.

Sweet Mary, it had been one hell of a night, and the best performance of her life.

 

Chapter 6

The building where Roman sat might loosely be called an inn. It was dark and dank, with a low, sooty ceiling and a peculiar stench.

Customers were scattered about the place, men with furtive, evil eyes. Hard, half-dressed women groped their current companions with poorly concealed boredom.

Disgust rose in Roman, but there were other emotions—darker, more sinister ones. Ones he dare not admit to lest he find himself pulled below that black undertow.

He thought he had dredged the bottom of the human pool before now, but Firthport's hideous underbelly had proven far more fetid than he could have imagined.

It had taken him three days to find this place, three days of searching, questions, threats.

But here he was, sitting in a dark corner, watching a man he had met only once before. The man who had tried, but failed, to steal the necklace.

Perhaps he had once been given a name. Perhaps by a mother who had loved him. But now he was known only as Scar, a name initiated by the line that ran diagonally through his right eyebrow and across his cheek. Endless investigating had told Roman that Scar was one of Dagger's men. Had the scum lied to him on that night at the inn, then? Had he somehow stolen the necklace and pretended he had not? Could he have been that good an actor?

It was possible, but was it not more likely that another of the ring of thieves had taken it beforehand?

It didn't truly matter. For tonight Roman's search would come to an end. He quieted his impatience and waited. Scar looked nervous, edgy, and loud. Some hours ago he had teetered over the brink of intoxication. Now he was cantankerous and garrulous.

At frequent intervals, Roman could hear fragments of the boasts he threw toward his companions, a motley group of unimpressed, vapid-faced villains.

"Called me in personal," Scar said now. 'Ta thank me for all my 'ard work, I'm thinkin'. I done 'im a good turn in Eddenberry that—"

"I 'eard ya botched up a job last week. Let the goods slip right through your fingers." A sallow-faced man took a deep swig from his mug and stared into his companion's eyes. "Maybe 'e's meanin' ta ...
thank
ye for that."

Leaning across the table, Scar grabbed the other's shirtfront and rose with a jerk. 'That weren't my fault. Ya 'ear me. It weren't."

The man hung limply from Scar's fist and smiled with dark teeth. "Ya gonna tell
'im
that?"

Even from a distance, Roman could see Scar's hand tremble. It fell away from the other's shirt. He glanced wildly about as if he saw wolves circling for the kill. "It weren't my fault."

"Then ya'd best go tell 'is Lordship that."

Scar licked his thin lips. "I'm tellin' ya, that ain't why 'e called me in."

"Sure of that, are ya?"

Scar nodded, but the movement was jerky and erratic.

"'urry on yer way so as ta collect that big reward 'e's waitin' ta give ya."

"I'll do that." Scar straightened. "I'll do that right now." He stumbled over his chair as he backed away, righted himself, and glanced back at his peers. "Don't be plannin' on seein' me round 'ere no more," he said, and disappeared through the door.

The sallow-faced man chuckled and drank again. "Oh, I won't," he said into his mug.

Rising noiselessly to his feet, Roman, too, exited.

The air outside was ripe with rotting fish and fetid urine. Windblown, tattered clouds skittered past a pale, half-moon. In a moment, Roman saw a dark figure hurrying away.

He followed at a distance until the light of the moon was completely quelled and darkness lay like a blanket about him. Then he hastened his step.

Ahead, Scar was muttering to himself as he stumbled along.

"Always done right by 'im. Always."

The alley down which they passed gave Roman little cover, still he had no choice but to follow. Tonight, he would meet Lord Dagger. Tonight he would learn the whereabouts of the necklace, no matter what it took.

"Snuffed that lad in Eddenberry with 'is own knife." His pace slowed and he chuckled. "Pretty thing. Even cleaned the blade 'fore givin' it over. But did 'e give me so much as a farthing for my trouble? No. 'E owes me, 'e does." He slowed even more.

The smell of the sea was sharp here. From a nearby building, light spilled from a window and a woman laughed, the sound high-pitched and eerie.

Scar turned toward the noise with a start, but kept stumbling along.

When he finally stopped, Roman pressed his back against a nearby wall and watched as Scar rapped his knuckles against the door of a long, low building made of stone. A warehouse of sorts, he would guess.

In the darkness, Scar shuffled his feet and knocked again, a bit louder. Finally, the door opened. No light seeped from the interior of the place.

"What do ya want?" The voice from inside the building was as deep as the night.

"I'm ... I'm 'ere," said Scar, his own tone high-pitched.

There was a moment's delay then Scar disappeared inside.

Roman remained still for a moment, then, when nothing moved, he crept around the far side of the building. There he found another door. It was boarded up, but there was a chink in the crooked wooden boards. Squatting near the building, he peered inside.

A single candle had been placed upon a crate. But its light seemed to cower in the darkness.

"So..." The person who spoke was unseen, but his voice was clear, and strange in some indefinable way. "Ya've come."

"Yeah, I... I came. Like you asked." Scar's voice seemed loud. Standing near the candle, he'd removed his cap, which he twisted in his hands. The light, pale and feeble, illuminated little more than his face, setting off his scar in harsh relief.

Roman could see little by the exclusive light of the single candle. But he thought he could makeout five other people, four standing, one seated on something high.

The silence was as dark as the room, heavy with tension.

"Ahh, Pete, Pete didn't say what ya wanted me for," Scar said, squirming slightly.

Silence again. Oppressive, long.

In the blackness, the seated man shifted slightly. Roman squinted, trying to discern a face.

"What do I want?" the seated man asked. "I wanted to thank ya, o' course."

"Yeah?" The relief in Scar's tone was nearly a tangible thing. "That's what I told 'em at the wharf. That's what I told 'em."

"Ya mentioned my name?"

"No! No!" Scar said. "I just said I'd done a good job, and I was in for a reward, is all."

"A reward. Aye. Ya'll get your reward. And do you know why?"

Scar licked his lips again and smiled, a ghoulish expression. "Cuz of the jeweled knife I got from the lad in Eddenberry?"

The shadowed man rose to his feet. Roman held his breath, waiting. It must be Dagger himself, but since he didn't enter the light, illumination was not shed on his identity.

"The jewels were paste," he said. "No, Scar, it's not the knife. 'Tis the fact that ya taught me somethin'."

"Me?" Scar was still smiling. "What could I have taught
you?"

Dagger chuckled, pacing now, back and forth, just out of the circle of light. "Remember the necklace ya were to get for me?"

Scar's Adam's apple bobbed. The smile dropped from his face. "That weren't my fault." He shuffled his feet and gripped his cap tighter. "It weren't my fault. The necklace... it was gone when I found the Scotsman."

"'Tis my point exactly. Tis what ya taught me. That no matter what..." He stopped and seemed to wave one arm in a semicircle. "Some ... nobody can still ruin my plans."

"It was the Shadow!"

"Ya know, I think you're right. And what do ya think we should do about the ... Shadow?"

"Kill 'em?"

Dagger chuckled. "I like the way ya think, Scar. Always have."

"I can do that for ya. I can kill 'im."

"Do you know who he is then?"

Scar grimaced a smile. "I can find out. I got me ways."

"Sure ya do. And ya've proven yourself useful to me in the past," he said, stepping forward.

"Yeah." Scar bobbed his head. "I've been useful."

Dagger stepped into the light. His back was to Roman, his face visible to Scar. Roman saw the villain's eyes widen as he looked at Dagger's face.

"But ya've failed," Dagger said, and lifted his hand in a casual signal.

Four men approached the circle of light. Candlelight glimmered off uplifted blades.

"No! Pete! God, Blacks, call 'em off!" Scar screamed, stumbling into the darkness. The men closed in. Shrieks and blows echoed against the stone walls. But in minutes the sounds of death subsided.

"Now ..." Dagger's voice was husky, like a man just sated. "What should we do?"

"We'll find the Shadow," someone said, stepping toward the light.

"And how will ya do that? Even Angel can't convince the fence ta talk."

"Maybe Angel's gettin' soft. Maybe 'e'll 'ave ta step down and let a new man take 'is spot."

"And what do you mean by that, Blacks?"

"I mean, I been workin' 'ard for ya. And I got me own people on the job."

"Your own people?"

"Yer... yer people, I mean. And I 'eard of a 'ore. They say she knows the Shadow—intimate like."

"A whore?"

"Yeah, rumor 'as it."

"I'd hate to think my empire runs on rumor."

"We'll find 'im."

Dagger was silent for a moment, then, "Aye, ya will. Where does this whore live?"

"Don't know exactly, but she works a place called the Red Fox. I got Wads there now."

 

Chapter 7

Roman sprinted down the dark streets and back alleys of Firthport.

BOOK: Highland Wolf (Highland Brides)
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