Highland Spy

by Madeline Martin

  Her breath was sweet and mingled with her fresh, delicate scent.

  He should turn from her now. He should walk away and keep his distance.

  Yet he knew he could not.

  “Ye,” he said. “I’m protecting ye. I care about ye, lass.”

  Her lips parted with her surprise. “You do?”

  “Aye. Too damn much.” His voice came out rough and hard. “I care.”

  Her breathing came faster, evidenced by the repeated rapid swell of her breasts against the low-cut bodice.

  Before he could let his thoughts circle around once more, he cupped the elegant line of her jaw in his palm.

  Her eyes widened.

  “Are you going to kiss me?” she whispered.

  Instead of answering, he lowered his mouth to the luscious warmth of hers.

  A soft intake of her breath brushed between them and he gently swept his tongue against the seam of her mouth. She made a little humming sound of delight. Encouraged, he deepened he kiss and brushed her tongue with his.

  This time she gave a soft whimper. Her hands slid up his arms, holding him to her.

  Connor’s body lit with a heat he hadn’t known in far too long and with such force he could only barely restrain it. He wanted to pull her up against him, to run his ravenous hands over every inch of her body.

  Ariana tilted her face upward with a moan and widened her mouth. Her tongue skimmed against his with the tender hesitation of the untried.

  A reminder of her innocence.

  He shouldn’t be doing this, not with one of his girls. Not one who trusted him and looked to him for guidance.

  But this wasn’t just any one of his girls. It was Ariana. Beautiful, determined, fascinating.

  No.

  He groaned and tried to pull back, but Ariana leaned forward, following him so no space was made between them.

  Her hands had, at some point, slid from his arms to the back of his head and now she tightened her grip to keep him from withdrawing.

  God, she was so sweet, all silken temptation and heat.

  And he was so damn weak.

  Her mouth widened and now the stroke of her tongue was bold, hungry.

  A flame to tinder.

  He groaned again, this time in resignation, and gave in to the burn of his desire. He cradled her head in his palms and kissed her with all the pent-up passion and longing he’d harbored in the months he’d known her.

  Her lips were soft, her tongue hot and eager. Their breath came in quick pants and time lost all meaning.

  Her hand stroked his chest where only the fabric of his léine kept her from his skin.

  Every part of him was lit with an incredible awareness, everything sensitive and greedy for her touch. His cock pounded with an ache he hadn’t known in years, swollen to the point of bursting in the most exquisite torture.

  Ariana’s curious fingers crept up his chest until the warmth of her skin touched the blazing heat of his own. Her moan hummed between their lips and her fingernails gently raked down his exposed flesh.

  The tingle of pleasure was more than he could bear. He acted without thought, grabbing her hips and pulling her against him, against that insistent, aching throb.

  Her moan was louder this time, on the breath of an exhale. She arched her hips forward so their pelvises were locked against one another. The slight friction sent bolts of pleasure sizzling through Connor.

  His hands were restless on her body now, exploring the span of her narrow waist, the curve of her firm bottom beneath the flimsy dress she wore, the swell of her breasts where they strained over her bodice.

  He gripped the laces of the bodice and tugged, unleashing its merciless hold on the softness he wanted.

  Ariana’s own hands moved with abandon over him, touching with the same excitement and yearning. Every connection sent strokes of encouraging heat through him.

  He tugged at the criss-crossed laces until her bodice hung open, then slid his hand around her waist where the shapeless sark hung from her shoulders.

  Ariana caught his mouth in a savage kiss, their teeth almost grinding together between their lips, as if no amount of closeness were enough to sate their shared lust.

  His palm glided over her ribs, where the delicate muscles of her stomach flexed with her movements. He did not stop until he met the firmness of her breast. It was heavy in his hand, round and full. He groaned and let his thumb brush the fabric of her sark where the hard nub of her nipple stood out.

  She gave a sharp intake of breath and stilled her hands on his back, where her fingernails gently dug into his skin.

  He shoved aside the flimsy fabric with impatience and slid his hands against warm, silky flesh. A low growl of appreciation rasped from his throat.

  Everything in his body cried out for more. Desperate. Hungry. Wild.

  He trailed kisses from the plushness of her beautiful mouth, down the length of her graceful neck, further still to her chest, where the swell of her breast met his lips with heavenly softness.

  Ariana’s fingers threaded through his hair, holding him to her. And he knew she wanted more.

  His mouth went dry with longing. He caressed her bared breasts in his hands and brushed the tightness of one of her nipples with his lips.

  Ariana cried out and arched toward him. Connor flicked his tongue over the little nub before sucking and gently teasing it with his teeth.

  Her fingers clutched him now, and her body writhed with a frustration he knew all too well.

  He wanted her.

  Now.

  Here.

  He straightened and edged his hand up her skirt, drawing the fabric upward. Her legs were long and shapely beneath, etched with a line of feminine muscle. She watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, her lips red from the force of their desperate kisses.

  The passion that had left them frenzied slowed then to something careful and tantalizing, a taste of being lost within the moment, lost within each other.

  He skimmed his fingertips up her thigh. She flicked her tongue over her full lips and her heavy breathing filled the quiet between them.

  The skin of her inner thighs was impossibly soft. He let his fingers inch higher, higher and higher until her flesh grew hot near the apex and then he stopped.

  Ariana’s eyes searched his, as if wondering what he might do.

  And then he swept his middle finger between her delicate slit. She gave a sharp gasp and gripped the back of the chair she stood near.

  She was slick beneath the bluntness of his finger, swollen with longing and so hot.

  His cock lurched to attention with mindless want.

  A thunk came from outside the door, like the sound of a book slamming the flat of its cover against a hard surface.

  Ariana and Connor both leaped apart and looked toward the closed door.

  Someone was out there.

  Chapter 15

  There were worse things than being caught half-dressed while in the throes of frantic passion.

  Ariana just couldn’t think of a single one at the moment.

  Her skirt swayed against her ankles, her body still humming with an incredible longing despite the discontented pounding in her heart.

  She met Connor’s gaze with a shared look of concern.

  Already he was grabbing his dirk from his belt. She knew it was there. She’d felt it when she’d been running her hands over him so shamelessly.

  Her cheeks burned with the memory.

  Connor made his way toward the closed door with soundless footsteps and Ariana quickly laced her bodice.

  It was a feat not easily done when her fingers trembled so, and the billowing sark kept getting tangled in the cords.

  What if they’d been caught?

  The only people in the castle now were Liv, Percy, and Murdoch.

  Surely it couldn’t be Liv.

  She hoped it’d been Murdoch. He was seldom there and was always courteous when he was.

  Her heart flinched.


  How could she face Percy’s sweet face daily when she knew the other woman had heard her cry out in pleasure?

  Connor had made his way to the door and stopped.

  Ariana gave a final tug at her bodice cords and tied a hasty knot that would fool no one in its lopsided state. Her heart hammered so loudly in her ears, it was a wonder she could even discern the creak of the door opening.

  But open it did.

  Revealing a dark hallway.

  A dark, empty hallway.

  Whoever had been there was now gone.

  Connor chuckled then, a rich, warm sound. He bent and came upright with something gray and fluffy in his hands.

  He closed the door before speaking. “We’ve a wee visitor.”

  Ariana strode toward him, drawn by curiosity and the blue eyes peeping at her from the mound of fur. “How precious! Where did she come from?”

  Connor shrugged, his large hands cupping the kitten. “Most likely one of the cats in the stable. I’m no’ sure how she got in here.”

  “Do you think she needs her mother?” Ariana leaned against him for a better look and placed her hand on the swell of his muscular arm. He was so firm beneath her fingertips, so powerfully strong.

  The warmth between her legs went hotter with a renewed intensity.

  “Ach, no, she’s no’ that young.” Connor turned toward her and the smiling lines around his eyes smoothed. “We shouldna have been—I shouldna have kissed ye. We’re lucky it was only this wee thing outside the door.”

  He handed her the kitten, which she readily accepted. She tried to focus on the decadently soft fur she cradled against her breast rather than the ache beneath.

  She had not regretted their passion.

  It appeared he did.

  “There’s too much at risk,” Connor said. His tone was almost apologetic. He took a breath to continue, but Ariana cut him off, not wanting to hear any more.

  “I know,” Ariana agreed quickly. As if saying it fast might make it easier to endure the hurt.

  The little kitten climbed up her bodice with needle thin claws she didn’t feel beneath the thick fabric. She followed its body with cupped hands lest the poor thing lose its grip and tumble to the ground.

  “I assume you leave soon to follow MacAlister,” she said. “I want to go with you.”

  Connor watched her with an unreadable expression on his face. She wished suddenly she could hear his thoughts as she heard the beat of her own heavy heart.

  “It’s a three-day journey there.” He said it as if the statement might actually dissuade her. “I’m no’ sure how long I’ll be gone.”

  “I rode the whole way from London, except when we were on the boat.” She tried to keep the pride from her voice. “I’m stronger now and even more able to keep a quicker pace.”

  The kitten curled up against her cupped palm, its warmth settling just above her bodice. The vibrations of purring hummed against her skin and she couldn’t help the smile stretching over her lips.

  “And I know Isabel MacAlister,” she continued. “I can get us inside the manor.”

  “That isna necessary.”

  She pulled her gaze from the kitten and looked up at Connor. “Then let me come with you.”

  His jaw flexed. “Ye know why I hesitate.”

  Her heart fluttered a little faster.

  Because he cared.

  About her.

  “Then it’s all the more reason to let me come,” she said gently. “If you truly care for me, you will let me join you. We can work together.”

  He went silent, and she turned her attention to the sleeping cat to keep the awkward tightness from growing between them.

  “If I let ye come, we canna do this again.”

  Her cheeks burned.

  She knew what he meant by “this.”

  “Ariana, I’m no’ a man like those ye knew at court. I dinna have that kind of freedom. There’s just too much at risk. I’m no’…”

  “You’re not what?” she pressed. But she didn’t have to look up to know his silence was all the answer she’d get.

  And she wasn’t about to beg.

  She could only guess what he’d been about to say—that he wasn’t willing to take the chance of ruining the freedoms he did have for her.

  “I understand,” she said.

  And truly she did. She’d been in her own dire circumstances before, with her own fears and her own calculated risks. He was right. She didn’t know about what freedoms he had or didn’t have.

  He had mentioned a sister once, and there was much more below the surface than he’d said. It was in his eyes when he’d lowered his guard enough for her to see the pain there, like the day he’d fought with Sylvi.

  Ariana didn’t know much more about him than the little bit he’d shared.

  “I understand,” she said again, and looked up at him. “And if that is your condition, then I accept.”

  He nodded, his face achingly unreadable. “We will ride out at dawn then, once we’ve slept and eaten. But yer new friend will need to remain at Kindrochit, aye?”

  Ariana stroked the warm gray fur. “I’m sure she won’t mind. Mind if I keep her in the castle? I’ve just the thing in mind for her.”

  “Aye, ye can keep her here.” Connor stared down at her for a long time, as if he meant to say something else. A quiet intimacy hovered in the silence, or perhaps it was restraint.

  “Sleep well,” Ariana said, and departed the room before he could reply.

  She strode up the stairs with the small sleeping kitten cradled in a warm, soothing ball at her breast.

  Connor had agreed to let her come.

  Her heart thumped in her chest—with excitement for the upcoming mission, with the memory of his hot and hungry kisses, with the fear of never experiencing them again.

  But she’d made a promise.

  And she would not be his undoing.

  • • •

  As with everything Ariana set her mind to, she’d been correct in saying she was an easy traveling companion. For that Connor was exceedingly grateful.

  The sun, once high and bright in the cloudy sky, had begun to sag toward the earth. He surveyed the forest they rode through, seeking a clearing of trees large enough for them to set up camp.

  “We should stop soon,” he said.

  “I can keep going,” Ariana replied. Exhaustion shadowed her eyes and her ready conversation had begun to fade.

  He couldn’t help but smile at her determination. “That isna necessary. We dinna want to be riding through the woods at night. It’s best we stop.”

  “This isn’t nearly as difficult as coming to Scotland.” A smile eased some of the weariness from her features.

  “I imagine it was a difficult journey,” Connor said. “Did ye enjoy the snow?” He winked at her, and she laughed.

  Though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he loved the sound of her laughter.

  The trees thinned out and an expanse of soft grass revealed itself. The perfect spot for setting up camp.

  Connor stopped his horse and swung from it. Ariana did likewise, but he noticed a slight stagger following her landing.

  He quickly came around to help her, but she shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “Ye’ll feel better once ye’ve moved around a wee bit.” He said it more to himself than to her.

  If he were being honest, he’d admit that he wanted the excuse to touch her, to hold her. He balled his hands into fists. This was not how he was supposed to be thinking.

  “Oh, I remember.” She smiled at him. “Moving around always helps. Might not be a bad idea to spar.” The smile unfurled into a grin.

  He arched his back and was rewarded with several gratifying pops. “It wouldna be such a bad idea.”

  “Maybe then you’ll have a little more confidence in my fighting ability. After all, we’ve never sparred before.” She arched her eyebrow, as if challenging him.

  He thought back to the many tr
aining sessions they’d been through. “Haven’t we?”

  She shook her head.

  “How do ye like fighting in skirts?” He indicated her riding habit. Dust and creases lined the full green velvet skirts.

  She shrugged off the fitted jacket, revealing the simple green bodice beneath and a white sark. “My trainer has prepared me to fight in anything.”

  He couldn’t help but smirk at her reply. “Verra well, but no bladed weapons.”

  She slipped a hand into the pocket of her skirt and removed a dagger. He knew well where the blade had been only moments before—down through the pocket with no seam and strapped to her slender thigh, hugging her impossibly soft skin. Doubtless the metal was still warm from the heat of her body.

  Her fists came up into a blocking positon in front of her and she sank several inches lower, no doubt bending her knees beneath the weight of all those skirts.

  “Unless you brought practice weapons, I’m assuming hand-to-hand?” Her eyes narrowed with focus.

  He mirrored her stance. “An astute assumption.”

  They circled one another. Her gaze was sharp with concentration, her lips tight, and he realized with absolute certainty she was right—they had not yet sparred.

  This would be interesting.

  No sooner had he tensed his body for a fight than her small fist flew toward him. He ducked to avoid it and would have been struck on the opposite side had he not dropped low enough in time.

  “Good move,” he commended.

  Ariana’s features did not relax. “Delilah was a good teacher.”

  “She must have had a good teacher as well.” He kept his face equally stoic.

  This time he did not allow Ariana to be on the offensive. He lunged toward her, intending to grapple her to the ground where he could easily trap her and declare his victory.

  Rather than dart from his attack, she ran into it and shoved against his chest with the flats of her palms.

  His balance was offset by the move, but he managed to stay upright and locked his arms around her head.

  With a grunt, she spun free and lurched backward, out of arm’s reach. Her narrow escape left her hair wild, with strands loosened from the carefully twisted knot she’d secured it in that morning.