Page 47 of Claimed By a Ruthless Scot
“Aye,” Iain agreed. “But these ones seemed…interested.”
“In what?”
“That is the problem.”
Outside the window, a distant shout rose from the courtyard where soldiers sparred, followed by the dull clash of wooden practice swords. Inside the study, the air felt still.
“Rumors?” Duncan asked.
Iain nodded slowly. “A few.”
“What kind?”
“Money changing hands.”
Duncan’s posture went still. “Bribery.”
He leaned back slightly against the desk, the edge pressing against the backs of his thighs as he considered the information.
“And ye can confirm naething.”
“Naething,” Iain echoed. “Only whispers.”
Duncan exhaled through his nose.
Whispers were often the most dangerous kind of warning.
“How many strangers?” he asked.
“Enough that the guards noticed.”
“And none of them have caused trouble.”
“Nae yet.”
The words lingered in the room like the faint smell of a storm gathering beyond the hills. Duncan’s fingers stilled on the desk.
“Have the men keep watching,” he said at last. “Quietly.”
Iain nodded. “They already are.”
“And the rumors?”
“We’re following them,” Iain replied. “But folk in town are cautious. Nay one wants tae accuse the wrong man.”
“As they should be.”
Duncan pushed away from the writing table and walked toward the window. Outside, the courtyard carried on with its usual rhythm.
Everything appeared ordinary. That, however, was rarely a comfort.
Behind him, Iain shifted his weight.
“There’s something else,” the captain said.
Duncan did not turn yet.
“Aye?”
