This Laird of Mine by Gerri Russell

Author:Gerri Russell
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2014-07-03T21:00:00+00:00

The Doric. The name of the inn circled in Jules’s mind like a tiresome nursery rhyme as he stepped into the darkened interior of the building on Market Street. Loud voices, smoke, the smell of bodies, whiskey. And people. Too many people. The impressions came at him at once as he searched the dark interior for a hooded figure.

He hadn’t expected to find the person that night. Jules frowned as he scanned the tables in the center of the room and the booths in the corners. The person he sought could be anyone, anywhere in this room. With a muttered curse, he made his way to the long wooden bar on the left-hand side of the room. He pushed his way through the crowd to the man behind the bar.

“I need some information,” he shouted above the noise to the man a person’s length from him. When the innkeeper paid him no heed, Jules placed a gold coin on the bar.

The innkeeper narrowed his gaze and shifted to where Jules waited. “’Bout?” He scooped up the coin.

“A patron. A person in a dark-hooded cloak who comes here often to meet with James Grayson,” Jules said, lowering his voice slightly to keep the conversation between the two of them.

The innkeeper shook his head. “Ye don’t want tae tangle wit’ that one.”

“Why?”

“She’s nothin’ but trouble.” He said, wiping an imaginary spot on the bar with a ragged, brown towel.

“Does she have a name?” A female? An unsettling feeling lodged in Jules’s gut.

The innkeeper looked up and searched the room. “Don’t know it.”

“Is she here now?” Jules persisted.

“Haven’t seen her fer a week, maybe more.” The innkeeper’s expression turned pensive.

“She wouldn’t happen to have red hair?” he asked the question that lodged in his throat.

The man shook his head. “Nay, ’tis a dark color. Maybe black or dark brown. And the woman is older, maybe in her fifties? Hard tae tell beneath that cloak.”

A sense of relief washed over Jules. He hadn’t realized how much he hoped the mystery person was not Claire. “Why is she trouble?”

The innkeeper remained silent.

Jules waited for an answer.

“’Cuz people she talks tae end up dead. And people who ask lots of questions tend tae end up that way as well.” The innkeeper ducked his head and started scrubbing at the wood in front of him again.

“Anyone else know anything about her?” Jules pressed his luck, asking one last question.

“They are all dead.” The innkeeper stopped and met Jules’s gaze. “Watch yerself. Stay alert.”

Jules tossed down a second coin. “Thanks for the warning, but I’ll be fine.”

Disappointed that his questioning hadn’t brought him any answers, Jules headed out the door and continued down the cobbled street. At least he knew the hooded figure was a female, and by the innkeeper’s account, deadly. As that thought formed, so too did the suspicion that the woman might be responsible for Grayson’s death.

Frowning into the darkness, Jules walked back toward the main part of town, wishing now he’d thought to bring

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