Before she could voice her unease, the barkeep came over with a tray carrying two bowls of stew and two tankards of frothy ale. Molly’s stomach rumbled loudly at the sight of it—she had been so preoccupied that she had not even noticed how hungry she was until now.
She thanked him and dug in, savoring every mouthful as if it were a banquet fit for royalty. The stew was rich and flavourful, made with root vegetables and chunks of succulent lamb. The ale was strong but not too overpowering, pairing nicely with the food. Conall lifted his tankard in a silent toast.
They ate in silence, only the low drone of voices from the back of the room breaking the quiet. Conall’s expression had taken on a faraway cast, as though he was thinking about things far from here.
Molly tensed as the door opened. A woman entered, followed by a gang of rough-looking men. They swept the room with unfriendly eyes before swaggering over to the bar. A low conversation passed between the woman and the barkeep before she turned to peer in Molly and Conall’s direction.
The floorboards creaked as she walked over and stood staring down at them. Molly couldn’t place her age, perhaps around thirty. She had jet-black hair tied into a braid that fell down her back and a scar ran through her top lip. She was wearing a pair of clinging pants and a tight tunic with high boots and Molly realized that if all the women in Lanwick dressed this way, perhaps she wouldn’t look out of place after all in her dungarees.
The woman’s dark eyes narrowed as she looked Molly and Conall over. “Well, well,” she said, her lip curling into a sneer. “If it isnae Lord Sinclair himself. Come to rough it with the little people, eh? Perhaps I should curtsey.”
And she did just that, lowering herself in a rough parody of a curtsey that exuded sarcasm.
Molly glanced at Conall.LordSinclair? What did that mean?
“Chief,” Conall said, his voice low. “I havenae come here for trouble.”
Sothiswas the chief they’d been waiting for? Molly had expected some big, burly man with a huge beard and bad teeth, not this shrewd-looking woman.
“No?” the woman said. “Then what have ye come for?”
“A trade. What else?”
“And what have ye got to trade?”
“Information.”
The woman’s brows rose. “Oh! My favorite kind of commodity.” Her dark eyes flicked to Molly and they were as hard as stone. “Who is this?”
“Molly Anderson. My... associate.”
The woman stared at her, assessing. Molly lifted her chin and stared right back, determined not to be intimidated. Or not toappearintimidated at least, although this woman made her very nervous. She couldn’t help noticing the way the rough-looking men were watching the exchange, hands near the numerous weapons slung about them. She suspected all it would take was a quick word from this woman and those weapons would be drawn and pointing right at her and Conall.
“Ye should know better than to bring strangers here. Tell me why I shouldnae have ye thrown into a cell.” Her voice was as cold and hard as her gaze.
Conall slowly stood. He towered over the woman, but she didn’t look intimidated. “Because ye know I wouldnae come here unless I had something to offer. Information that ye need.”
The woman regarded him in silence. Molly could almost see the thoughts turning behind her eyes, assessing him. She found she was holding her breath. The room suddenly hummed with tension.
Then the woman nodded curtly, and the tension evaporated. “Perhaps ye do. All right, come, the both of ye. We will speak somewhere a little more private.”
She strode over to a door in the corner, pulled it open, and disappeared inside. Molly glanced at Conall, but he was staring after the woman. She wanted to ask him who she was, how he knew her, and what the hell was going on here, but the men at the bar were still watching them and none of them had removed their hands from their weapons.
“Come with me,” Conall said softly.
He took her elbow, steered her across the room, and through the door the woman had just taken. Molly found herself in a large and opulent room with a round table in the center surrounded by chairs. The woman was pacing up and down at the far end.
She turned as the door clicked closed behind them and scowled at Conall. “I didnae enjoy that,” she snapped. “Next time, give me some bloody warning instead of just appearing out of thin air like that, aye? I nearly shit my breeches when I saw ye sitting there.”
To Molly’s surprise, Conall suddenly grinned. “Apologies for the shock, Chief. I had to make sure we weren’t followed. And as for the warning, where’s the fun in that?”
The woman rolled her eyes, but the tension in the room eased somewhat. She laughed suddenly. “Ah, but it’s good to see ye, ye wily bastard.”
“It’s good to see ye too, Fi.”
Conall crossed the room and threw his arms around the woman. She hugged him back, smiling broadly.
Molly blinked. Excuse me? What?
