Surely then the man would know she’d stolen from him and would be on the lookout for her.
But then, she was disguised.
She folded it quickly, before her guilt got the better of her. The heavy parchment crackled in her hands. She shoved it into her bodice.
The man would no doubt pay the price for the missing document. She winced at the thought and almost pulled it from her bodice once more.
But she did not.
This was her first mission and she would not fail.
She opened the window wider and the mid-May night air rushed in with its usual frigid chill and lifted several sheets of paper from the desk. They scattered across the floor in haphazard piles.
Perfect.
It all looked very natural, just as the missing page would.
Or so she hoped.
Then, before the sleeping man could possibly have a chance to wake, Ariana slipped into the hall.
The paper against her breast was stiff, and the corners bit into her tender flesh, as if punishing her for her misdeed.
She pushed aside the weight of her own guilt and made her way down the empty corridor toward the stairs. A quick glance over the railing confirmed Cuthbert’s friends still occupied the table.
An oath she’d heard Sylvi once say burned hot in her throat.
Surely they would question why Ariana returned without their friend.
Something warm covered her mouth and nose and a solid wall of a body stood at her back.
Ariana’s heart leapt to life, thundering in her chest.
She’d been caught.
• • •
It was obvious Connor had surprised Ariana.
He kept his hand over her mouth to keep her from crying out. The last thing they needed was more attention.
Her body tightened and something sharp jabbed into his ribs, so hard and fast it caught his breath. He relaxed his hand and Ariana spun around, knife in hand.
He’d underestimated how well she’d done in her training.
Connor held his arms up in surrender despite the pain in his ribs where her hit had landed.
Recognition passed over her face and she relaxed her stance. He held a finger to his lips before she could say anything.
Relief washed the tension from his muscles.
He knew he’d find her, of course. He just wasn’t sure what predicament she might be in.
What the hell had she been thinking, disappearing up here?
And who the hell had been in the room with her?
Connor waved for her to follow him and led her toward the narrow stairs the staff used. The floorboards squeaked under her footsteps.
He’d need to teach her how to walk without sound.
For next time.
His chest tightened uncomfortably and he realized he didn’t want there to be another time when she might be at risk.
He wrestled the thought away. This was what she had been brought in to do.
The aging stairs swayed slightly beneath them, but in a quick moment, they were in a darkened alleyway. Outside, the air was thick with the threat of rain and left the odor of rotting food heavy around them.
A surreptitious glance confirmed they were alone. Connor pulled Ariana’s cloak from his shirt and handed it to her.
“What the hell were ye thinking?” he whispered harshly.
He should have waited until they were in the woods, but the thought had been singed into his mind the whole damn time she’d been gone.
She took her cloak from him and pulled it over her shoulders. “How did you get this?”
He’d stolen it, like any other beggar would have considering where she left it, but that wasn’t what he wanted to discuss.
And here was not the place to discuss any of it.
The deep baritone of several male voices sounded on the street outside the alley, their only exit.
“Lean on me and act drunk,” Connor said.
A lazy smile lilted over Ariana’s lips and her lids slid a little lower over the wild blackness of her eyes, where her pupils covered the beautiful blue-green—an effect from the tincture to further mask her identity.
She sagged against his proffered arm and her delicate, fresh scent teased at his senses despite the putrid stench of the alley. Though he was not a tall man, her head rested just below his shoulder, and he had to put his other arm around her waist to keep her secure against him.
Together they walked onto the street. Try though he might, he could not ignore how the curve of her hip moved in a graceful swaying motion under his hand.
What he could at least ignore was the way he wanted to trace her shape with his fingers, with the sensitive flat of his palm—down her slender back to the dip of her waist and the rounded swell of—
He swallowed hard and focused on the street in front of them.
Seventeen.
There were seventeen men and one woman in view. Most in front of the Lamb’s Tail Inn.
Connor steered Ariana from the inn, toward the edge of town. Urgency pressed at his back. While it was a sensation he never ignored, he wondered how much it had to do with a possible threat and how much it had to do with Ariana.
The crunch of coarse sand sounded under someone’s boot nearby.
Behind them.
Connor didn’t turn to look, instead he nudged Ariana toward the nearest wall and pushed her back toward it with his own body.
She moved with him, allowing him to shift her as if she were drunk, even letting her feet stumble slightly.
He pressed himself against her as lovers might do, holding her upright and shielding her all at once. They faced one another, chest to very exposed, very tempting breast.
Ariana stared up at him in the darkness, her gaze locked on his, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling.
His gaze lowered to the lush shape of her mouth and his breath came a little faster.
He could kiss her.
The thought came quickly and was altogether too damn tempting.
That was when he realized he’d forgotten the footsteps.
That was when he realized he’d stopped paying attention.
That was when something hard and heavy slammed against the side of his head.
Chapter 11
Ariana bit back a scream.
Connor did not fall from his place in front of her despite the hard hit, but he didn’t move either.
The large man behind him, the one who’d struck him, was the man she’d first sat next to at the inn.
“Ye said ye’d be back.” His words came out in a low growl. “And I find ye out here wi’ him.”
The handle of her blade was hot in Ariana’s palm and now she was grateful for having not slipped it back in its sheath.
Connor’s head lolled, and a cold tightness gripped her heart.
The other man was too big. One solid hit and he might actually kill Connor.
“Ach, I drank too much,” Ariana said, slurring her words. “I thought I met ye last night. Was that this night then?” She squinted at the man.
Connor still was not responding.
Ariana steeled herself with determination.
She would defend him.
“Aye, it was tonight,” the man said, and leered down at her. “And I intend to have ye fulfill yer promise.”
His large hands fell on Connor’s shoulders and spun him around.
Before Ariana’s heart could even lurch, Connor came to life.
He thrust up with the heel of his hand under the man’s chin, snapping his head upward. Connor kicked out at his opponent’s chest and delivered a sharp blow with his elbow to the man’s temple.
The large attacker fell to the ground with a great and heavy whump.
And did not move.
Ariana stared in shock. Connor’s movements had been so smooth, so fast. She’d never in her life seen a person move with a grace so sleek, so lethal.
A shout sounded from somewhere near the inn.
Connor grabbed her hand. “Follow me and keep to the shadows. We dinna have much time before he wakes.”
So, the man was not dead after all. She realized then her shoulders had crept closer to her ears with tension.
While she was glad the man was incapacitated, she certainly had not wanted him dead.
She wanted to glance back at him one more time to confirm for herself, but Connor was already ahead of her and moving quickly. Faster than the sound of the footsteps approaching them.
Ariana pulled her hood over her face and slipped into the darkened alcoves of the shops and homes, skimming her body against the coarse walls as Connor did before her.
Her feet, she noticed, were not as quiet, no matter how hard she tried to let her shoes land softly against the ground.
Connor was quick and silent, like he’d been during the attack. This was a different man than she had ever seen in the course of their training.
The shouts of concern behind them had died down, and though no one gave chase, neither Connor nor Ariana slowed.
The buildings became more spaced out and the shadows broadened.
They were almost free.
Ariana’s breath came in smooth, even huffs, the same as when she ran in the morning. Now she understood the true purpose of incorporating the activity into their warm up.
The gravelly sand of the village gave way to soft grass, and both she and Connor opened into a full sprint to the tree line.
They did not stop until they reached the crude stable among the trees.
Ariana’s breath did not come so smoothly now. With each ragged gasp of breath, the folded parchment at her breast jabbed against her skin until they reached the makeshift stable.
They readied their horses without speaking. Connor’s face held a tight expression and he did not once look at her. The silence thickened between them.
Though she willed it not to, realization swelled ugly and heavy in her chest.
He was disappointed.
In her.
• • •
The impatient edge Connor had worked so hard to smooth was now jagged and hot.
Ariana had put herself in danger, and almost compromised the mission with her impulsive decision to follow the man upstairs.
“What the hell were ye thinking?” he asked for the second time.
“I did nothing wrong.” Her defense was simply stated and without the pitch of a whine.
He expected nothing less.
Still, he slowed his horse and looked hard at the woman who spoke with such clear confidence.
Moonlight washed over Ariana, casting a bluish sheen over the blonde hair of the wig and leaving her fair skin glowing like a pearl. Even though she wore the attire of a tavern wench, she kept her back straight like a highborn noble.
Damn it, she was beautiful.
“Nothing wrong?” he countered. “Why did ye go upstairs with the man?”
“Cuthbert.” She slowed her own horse, but did not stop, so he was forced to urge his forward once more.
“What?”
“His name was Cuthbert.”
Rage simmered inside Connor, like a kettle of water near boiling. He didn’t want to know the fool’s name.
He counted a slow, steady stream of numbers in his head in an attempt to gather patience. “Why did ye go upstairs with Cuthbert?” he asked in a level tone.
Ariana tilted her chin indignantly. “You asked me to find information on a nunnery. I went to the men you’d indicated and found they were indeed speaking of a woman trapped in a nunnery. Cuthbert was none other than the scribe who had drawn up her newly contracted marriage negotiation.”
Marriage negotiation.
The words punched him low in the gut.
The old nun he’d spoken to had mentioned MacAlister’s interest in marrying Cora.
Connor squeezed the reins in his hand until the leather strap pressed hard into his palms.
Perhaps it was true, then.
“I tried to get them to say the woman’s name,” Ariana continued. “They would not. I slipped Percy’s vial into Cuthbert’s drink, waited until he appeared drunk, then I lured him upstairs.” She gave Connor a long, considering stare before adding in a gentle voice, “I did everything I was trained to do.”
He shifted in his saddle, agitated by his own ire. She’d done what she was expected to—exactly the sort of thing Delilah and Sylvi did regularly.
“And what did ye find?” he asked.
Ariana reached into her bodice and pulled a folded square of parchment. “I believe it’s a marriage contract. I tried to read it, but the words kept blurring.”
Connor took the document from her. “Aye, the tincture Percy gave ye. We dinna expect ye’d be needing to read anything at a tavern.”
His heartbeat came faster, more desperate, with each section of the parchment he unfolded.
It was indeed a marriage contract.
His gaze fell to the two names and the tension bled out from his shoulders.
He didn’t recognize either name. Which meant the bride was not to be Cora.
Ariana watched him expectantly.
A whip of frustration lashed at him.
She’d put herself at risk for nothing.
He folded the page once more, following the original lines on the page, and tucked it into his own shirt.
Ariana still stared at him. “Was it what you needed?”
“It’s not common to find exactly what ye’re looking for on yer first mission.” He tried to keep his patience tethered, but knew from her wrinkled brow he had not succeeded.
The opaque mass of clouds in the distance flickered with the brilliant blue glow of lightning. The storm was coming.
Kindrochit Castle came into view, and they both hastened their horses.
“You’re disappointed.” She spoke over the churning roar of River Clunie.
Connor led the way over the stone bridge and turned slightly in his saddle to regard her. “Ye did everything as ye should have.”
The wary concentration on her face told him she didn’t believe him.
They entered the courtyard and made their way to the stable. Inside, the stable was blessedly free of the wind, and warm in the absence of the biting chill. The sweet scent of the rushes lining the stalls was oddly comforting after the stress of their time at the tavern.
They worked in silence together, caring for the horses and putting them in their stalls for the night.
His quiet rage, Connor knew, was directed at himself. For being distracted, for putting them both in danger, for letting himself feel too much for her.
“Should I have done something differently?” Ariana’s voice clattered into his thoughts.
He turned and found her staring up at him, her eyes still wild with the effects of the drug. The carmine of her lips stood out brilliant red in the golden light of the stable.
She lifted her chin with a determined slant he’d come to know almost too well. “If I can be better, then I want you to tell me how.”
“Ye did verra well tonight,” he said earnestly. “Far better than I expected for a first mission. Ye were right, ye did exactly as ye’d been instructed and ye’ve succeeded in what ye’ve been trained to do.” He patted her on the shoulder, mindful to do so on the good one. “I’m proud of ye.”
A pleased glow lit her face. “Then I look forward to another attempt tomorrow evening.”
Tomorrow evening.
Connor almost groaned aloud.
Unless, of course, Sylvi and Delilah had found something in their venture farther north.
And he hoped to God they had.
• • •
Sleep would be difficult when Ariana’s thoughts were still racing with the thrill of the night’s adventure.
She climbed the long staircase toward the room she shared with Liv. Patches of the plastered white wall were either cracking or missing altogether, revealing the mismatched stonework beneath.
The hour
was late and the energy firing through her body had leeched away, leaving her limbs heavy with exhaustion despite the excitement of her thoughts. Each step taxed her and burned at the tops of her thighs in a way she was unaccustomed to.
Such a simple climb had always been so easy.
At long last, the door appeared before her. She pressed her weary body to its cool surface and felt as much as heard the click of it opening.
Something prickled at her senses and shot a streak of wakefulness through her before the door opened wide enough for her to see.
An odor wafted toward—a metallic, fetid smell.
Ariana’s body tensed with renewed energy.
Blood.
She pushed her way into the room and her heart crumpled into her stomach.
There, in the flickering light of the hearth, lay Liv, in a bed stained dark with blood, her face pale, and her body unmoving.
Chapter 12
It was not an easy task to clean spilled blood.
Dawn lit the sky gray and then pale blue long before Ariana and Percy had ceased working.
Liv lay on a clean pallet, her face smooth with a drugged sleep meant to help her heal. The breath Ariana had sworn she’d never see again now rose and fell in shallow bursts from her friend.
The blood had all been washed away, but still its scent lingered and its rich russet color stained the skin around Ariana’s fingernails.
Liv’s head rolled from side to side on the pillow and an almost inaudible moan sounded from somewhere deep in her throat. Percy’s tonic was wearing off.
Ariana darted across the narrow room to Liv and sank down beside her bed.
Liv’s eyes opened in a squint and her brow creased. As if she knew something was not right. “What happened?”
“You were very sick.” It was all Ariana could allow herself to say.
Liv’s hand lifted weakly from her side and trailed toward her stomach, fingers trembling.
Ariana’s throat went tight. She wanted to grip Liv’s arm and still her efforts, but all she could do was watch, helpless, while her heart pounded.
Liv’s thin, pale hand came to rest atop her empty womb. Her eyes were fully open now, her emotions playing out over her face with heartbreaking clarity. Her eyes widened first, thrust open in desperate realization, the soft gray of her gaze searching the ceiling for understanding while her fingers patted with a frantic base need only an expecting mother would know.
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