“My lady?” Ariana said with feigned confusion. The room squeezed in close around her and her muscles tensed. She had known it was foolish to come out alone—she knew better, and now she paid the price.
“You serve patrons, at a tavern not your own.” Isabel drank from her cup, but did not break her cool gaze from where she held Ariana’s captive.
“I’ve little money and no other trade to ply.” Though Ariana only played a role, her cheeks went hot. She knew too well the position of having little coin and no skills to gain more. Nothing save cheating.
Several men rose from the table and half carried another man out. His head, dark with greasy hair, hung between his shoulders, obviously ill from too much drink.
Both women watched their shuffling departure before Isabel flicked a finger toward Ariana’s hands.
“Your nails are very well kept for a wench,” Isabel said. “It’s why I insisted you get my wine.”
Ariana looked at where her hands rested on the table, her nails were trimmed low and clean. An oversight to her costume. “The tavern where I usually work is far more fastidious, my lady.”
She inwardly winced and immediately knew she’d slipped on her reply.
“Fastidious.” Isabel’s lip curved into a smile. “You’ve quite a grand knowledge of words.”
Before Ariana could flutter out a reply, Isabel continued. “And your posture is immaculate, as is your clean hair and skin, despite all that rouge and kohl you’ve applied. Your husband may have been from the north, if you ever had a husband, but the London dialect glaring through your Scots would suggest you are not.”
The world around Ariana wavered. She glanced to where Murdoch had been and found him missing. He could offer her no assistance.
No words tumbled into her mind. There was nothing to say when everything the woman spoke was the truth.
For the second time in her clandestine endeavors, Ariana had been caught.
• • •
Connor latched the stable door and headed for the keep. The nearby town he’d gone to had proved a waste of time.
Urgency crept over his shoulders, tight and clawing.
Every day that passed was another Cora might be in danger, and there were no nunneries he found acceptable. Either they were too short of coin to even feed their cloister, or too heavy of it and cast a grand shadow on the landscape all were sure to notice.
Bringing her to Kindrochit was out of the question. Cora would be too eager to join the other ladies, and he could not have her doing so. He could not put her at risk as he already was forced to do with the women he trained.
MacAlister wanted Cora for something, and Connor didn’t like it. The sooner the man was dead, the better all this would be.
Connor pushed through the heavy castle door with all the force of his frustration. It swung as though it were a thin sheet rather than heavy hewn wood, and slammed against the stone wall with an audible bang.
Percy regarded him from the stairs, a small tray set atop her splayed hand. “Windy night?” she asked, offering a polite excuse he did not deserve.
Her sweet countenance eased the raging torment in his mind and replaced it with the weight of guilt.
Not only for his poor display of frustration, but for the lie she so obviously knew he’d told.
She wouldn’t ask, he knew, but that did not assuage his self-placed guilt.
He turned and closed the door behind him, more quietly this time. She knew. He might as well be truthful with her. “I dinna find anything.” His voice was gravelly from a night breathing in the thick black smoke from the tallow candles.
Percy descended the stairs and gave him an encouraging smile. “Perhaps tomorrow?”
He nodded and tried not to let her see his resignation. MacAlister was not a man to stay still.
“Liv is feeling better.” Percy’s voice was hopeful and light. “Please tell Ariana when she gets in from stabling her horse.”
Connor furrowed his brow at Percy. “Ariana isna stabling her horse.”
“You went alone?” Accusation burned bright in her gaze for a quick moment before she turned her head to the side, as if doing so could keep him from having seen the flash of anger.
“Aye,” he conceded. “I’m sorr—”
She turned back to him, her eyes so wide and hurt, it actually stung at his heart. “You promised no one would ever go alone again. Not even you.”
He hated the pain lingering in her gaze, the memory he knew was playing out in her mind.
It’d been his fault.
He’d sent Percy out alone a year ago. He thought she’d been ready.
And now Ariana—
“What of Ariana?” The tension of the night clenched at his shoulders and neck, tightening. “She’s no’ here?”
Percy shook her head and her braid rubbed against her right shoulder. The quiet of the house pressed against Connor’s ears and made them ache with the desire to hear Ariana’s voice.
Only silence answered his wish.
“How long has she been missing?” he asked.
Percy’s cheeks colored and she set her tray down on a small table. It rocked slightly under the weight of the laden platter. “Um… I’m not sure.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have slept. But I did, and when I woke, you were gone. Both of you.” Her fingers plucked anxiously at one another. “I assumed you’d decided to go and took her.”
And didn’t go alone. The unspoken words thickened in the air between them.
A hearty knock banged upon the door and set Connor’s heart pounding. He jerked it open and found Murdoch standing there, his blond hair more wild than normal.
He grinned. “I’ve got something ye’re going to want to hear.”
• • •
Despite all of her training, Ariana found herself just as paralyzed at having been discovered false by Isabel as she’d been the night Connor exposed her cheating at cards.
Ariana’s chest went tight and the air was suddenly too thin to breathe.
Isabel leaned forward, the coy smile on her lips declaring her victory. “I know you aren’t who you say you are, but I don’t care. In fact, I envy your freedom.”
She slid a look in the direction of the dark-haired man who now watched them with deep intensity. “I’ve recently come from London, a place I had no desire to leave, to wed a man I had no desire to even know. It is an unhappy union, as I suspected it would be.” There was a note of bitterness in her soft voice.
Ariana studied the woman, trying to find some recognition she might recall from her own time at court. The years prior came back in a flash of faces and places and names, yet this woman did not appear familiar. But then, the last year, Ariana had been too focused on cards to truly notice anyone else.
Someone gave a bark of laughter at a nearby table and Isabel shot them an irritated look. “As I said,” she continued. “My maid died early in my voyage and I’ve been without female companionship among these men. I don’t know who you are or what your past is, but I’ll never question it so long as you agree to be my lady’s maid.”
Ariana opened her mouth to decline, but Isabel held up a hand. “At least, promise me you’ll consider the request.”
“I can consider it,” Ariana said finally, still speaking with the thick Scottish accent she hadn’t perfected as well as she’d thought. While she felt silly continuing to do so, she knew she needed to, lest she call even more unwanted attention.
“I won’t be here long. Tomorrow we leave for a place called Loch Manor. I’m not sure how far it is from here, but I can be found there.” Isabel’s face softened into a gentle smile and her shoulders relaxed slightly. “I do hope to see you and will gladly reimburse you for any travel expenses you incur.”
The opportunity broke through Ariana’s thoughts like a shaft of sunlight through cloudy skies. Her mind raced with possibilities. If she’d been invited to the manor, she could take advantage of the offer to locate MacAlister. She could help
Connor find the information he needed.
“Is the manor on MacAlister land?” she asked, with as much finesse as she could muster.
Isabel tilted her head. “You truly don’t know Scotland at all, do you?”
Heat singed Ariana’s cheeks at her folly. In her next lesson with Delilah, she would be bringing up the layout of Scotland and which clans belonged to which areas to prevent future mistakes.
“I was seeking someone and wondered if I might find information on him there.” Her heartbeat came fast and hard once the words were out of her mouth. There had been no careful diplomacy to her statement, no crafted disguise.
“Who are you seeking?” Isabel asked.
Ariana swallowed. She’d already blundered thus far, she might as well broach what she needed. “Angus MacAlister.”
To her great surprise, Isabel laughed, a lilting sound filled with genuine gaiety.
“Well, you’ve found him, my dear.” Her eyes danced with mirth. “He’s my husband. And if you’d like to warm his bed, I’m sure he’ll talk endlessly about himself and you’ll get whatever you wanted out of him. In fact, I’d be most grateful.”
She rose from the table in a graceful, sweeping motion. “I think we can work out a private discussion on my husband if you come into my employ. I do hope I’ll see you again, Bess.”
Ariana nodded. “Aye, my lady, I’m sure ye will.”
It was not until she was finally free of the tavern did she realize her great victory.
Not only did she know Angus MacAlister’s location, she also had a way to get to him.
Her first lone mission had been a success.
Chapter 14
Ariana had the information Connor needed and she wouldn’t waste a moment in getting it to him.
She raced up the stairs of the keep, her heart slamming in time to the quick, steady slap of her feet upon the worn stone.
She’d done the mission completely on her own, she’d gotten what she set out for and she hadn’t gotten lost on the way back.
Victory warmed her from within and kept the cool night air from touching her.
She stopped at the landing and her pulse quickened.
Light framed the door of the solar.
Connor was still awake.
She made her way down the dark hall in a rapid succession of bouncing steps. Her excitement was far too great to be contained. It was like trying to capture the brilliance of the sun between one’s hands.
She didn’t stop when she reached the door. She placed her hot palms against the cool, smooth surface and pushed it open.
The room was darker than usual, the hearth little more than a red glow of fading embers outlining Connor’s body in front of it.
He did not turn around. “Close the door.”
His voice was quiet with a tone she couldn’t name, but it curled around her heart and snuffed out the brilliant sun of excitement she’d so eagerly held.
She pushed the door closed.
His shoulders lifted and fell, as if he were taking a deep breath.
“Come here.” Again, too quiet, too ominous.
Ariana swallowed, her throat tight, and walked toward him on stiff legs. Deep within, she bristled at her own obedience.
What she’d done had been the right thing.
Surely he would understand once she explained the information she had.
He didn’t turn to her even when she stood directly beside him. The wavering light of the hearth bathed the front of him in a reddish glow—his folded arms, the seriousness of his carved expression, the way his forefinger tapped against his bicep.
It was never good when his forefinger tapped.
It was a familiar movement at practice when someone made the same mistake too many times, or when Sylvi challenged him.
He stared intently into the hearth, where molten red with black bits of bark crusted along the glowing surfaces of the logs. “Where the hell were you?”
Ariana pulled in a steadying breath, one she hoped was discreet enough to not be heard. “I went to one of the nearby villages.”
Connor tilted his head slightly and angled his gaze on her. “And who did you go with?”
She squared her shoulders the way she’d seen Sylvi do. But it did not strengthen Ariana’s resolve—she knew she’d done wrong. “Alone.”
Again his forefinger tapped.
Silence settled between them, as cold and as dark as the shadows untouched by the meager fire.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Ariana tried to swallow again, but her throat was too dry. “I found the information you were looking for.”
Her breath came faster with anticipation. He would hear her news and forgive her.
“I already have the information I need,” he said.
The firm set of muscles between Ariana’s shoulder blades slackened. “What?”
“Murdoch came here tonight and told me MacAlister would be at Loch Manor in the next several days.”
The heady elation of her victory deflated from her chest in a slow exhale.
“I saw Murdoch,” she conceded. “And wondered if he’d managed to track Angus MacAlister there.”
“Ye were in the same village?”
Ariana nodded. “I went into the same tavern and saw him talking to MacAlister. I don’t think he recognized me, though. And I didn’t know the man was MacAlister until his wife told me.”
“MacAlister’s wife?” Connor’s jaw flexed. “He’s married then,” he muttered to himself. He drew in a long, slow breath. “Ye shouldna have gone by yerself. And ye shouldna be following Murdoch around. Ye could ruin all his work by interfering—”
“I only followed him into the tavern. I did not interfere,” Ariana said in a hard tone. A flame of anger flickered to life inside her.
“It was dangerous to go alone. Sylvi doesna even go alone.”
“I was careful.” Ariana’s hand moved to her pocket where she’d placed the round vial, for reassurance. And met nothing but fabric.
Her thoughts scattered for a distracted moment, torn between the sudden fear of having lost the vial and her frustration at the current conversation.
She pressed her dress between her palm and her thigh, confirming the vial’s absence.
“Are ye listening to me?” Connor put a hand on her shoulder and she almost snatched her hand from her dress. “It doesna matter how careful ye are, Ariana. Murdoch wouldna have been able to help. He didna even notice ye. If he had, I know he would have mentioned it when I told him ye were missing.”
“MacAlister’s wife offered me a position as her lady’s maid.” She threw the words at him like she was presenting a winning poker hand. “We have an opportunity to arrive on invitation and get the information we need.”
A line showed across Connor’s brow. “We dinna need such an opportunity. I need ye to do as ye’re told.”
“To do as I’m told.” Her cheeks blazed with indignation. She stepped back, freeing her shoulder from the weight of his resting hand. “I’ve always done as I’m told,” she continued, her voice as low and quiet as Connor’s had been when she first entered the room.
He took a step toward her, but she put up her hand.
“I did as my parents bade and it ended in one failed marriage attempt after another.” Her body trembled inside with the force of her admission, with the heat of all the pent-up rage now cracking the facade she’d hid it behind for so many years.
“My obedience won me nothing. Not the husband and children I wanted, not the respect I worked so hard to obtain, not even their affection. Nothing.” She said the last word through gritted teeth. “I obeyed my brother and got nothing in return but rumors about why no one would wed me.”
The scalding resentment within her singed away all the embarrassment at her rejection she’d once felt. Now only raw, ugly fury took its place. “And after all that humiliation, after all those years of obedience, he spent my dowry and died, leaving me
with nothing but debt and the scraps of my good name.”
Connor watched her with eyes so intent, it was as if he could see the soul she’d so passionately bared.
“Ariana.” His voice was soft now, not threateningly so, but velvety, affectionate. It worked into a deep, wounded part of her she’d shoved aside for so long she’d forgotten it existed.
Words caught in her throat, but she forced them out. “I thought it would be different here.”
She turned to go, but he caught her forearm in a firm yet gentle grip.
“It is different.” He turned her to face him and set both hands on her shoulders so she had nowhere to go. Immediately he pulled one hand off, from the side where she’d received the bruise from Sylvi. It had mostly healed already, but it was endearing to know he’d remembered.
He met her gaze. “The rules are to keep ye safe.”
“To protect the investment of your time and training?” It was a petty, childish thing to say, a final bitter note of scorn she wished she could recall once it left her lips.
She looked away, unable to meet the openness of his gaze. Her fury was now spent and the petulance she’d unleashed heated her with shame.
He stepped even closer, so his broad chest filled her vision. His léine lay open at the neck, revealing the muscular flesh beneath and a few scattered black hairs.
Though their proximity should have unsettled her, she found she could not move. Nor could she tear her gaze from the visible lines of his naked flesh, or stave off the ache of her fingers to stroke it.
“Ye couldna be more wrong.” The passion in his tone pulled her attention from his chest to his face.
He gazed into her eyes and she found herself drawn to the myriad flecks of green and black and gold in those hazel depths.
He leaned over her then, as if he might—
Ariana’s breath snagged in her dry throat.
As if he might kiss her.
• • •
Connor held Ariana still by the shoulders, but though her cheeks were still flushed with the effects of her ire, her body was no longer tense.
“Then if you’re not protecting your investment, what are you protecting?” she asked, an edge to her tone.
Highland Spy Page 11