An anxious little knot tightened in Ariana’s chest and she suddenly felt almost shy under his stare. “Thank you for letting me sleep.”
“Ye needed the rest.” He glanced back toward the fire. “And I figured the smell of food would wake ye in time.”
Her stomach gave an embarrassing grumble of agreement.
She placed her hand over her middle and tried to keep the blush from her cheeks with willpower alone. “Obviously your ploy worked.”
Connor’s eyes crinkled at the sides and he gave a low chuckle. “Aye, it would appear it did.”
The room was cooler by the window, but by no means cold. The small space and well-tended fire had kept everything blissfully warm.
There was something about the moment which made her want to lean her body against the strength of Connor’s, to let his arms enfold her while they stared into the great beyond together.
Instead she stood at his side and glanced through the thick glass to see for herself what he’d stared at with such intensity.
Outside the skies were brilliantly blue for the first time in two days and the sunlight reflected off the loch below as though off dozens of sparkling gems, all framed by two swells of lush green hills on either side.
It appeared no more real than an artist’s depiction of heaven, a thing no mortal could truly know.
And yet here she stood.
“Oh, Connor,” she said softly. She let her gaze settle on the landscape and fill her vision, only to find herself inclined to stare even more. “It’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“The loveliest land,” he amended in a quiet voice. “I’ve been thinking…”
She turned and found him watching her. Heat flared in her cheeks. “Yes?”
“Yer idea to speak with Lady MacAlister is a good one.” He nodded, as if confirming it to himself. “We should go into town today. I will go with ye to see the layout of the manor. Ye’ll ask after Lady MacAlister to see if she’s arrived and I’ll try to beg a bit of food from the keep. Sometimes they’ll allow a beggar entry into the kitchens to sup.”
Pleasure rose warm from her toes up to her cheeks. He had liked her idea after all. Perhaps her first attempt at working on her own had not been such a failure.
“Lady MacAlister will be traveling by carriage, no doubt.” Ariana left the obvious unsaid. Carriages traveled far more slowly than did horses, and ladies more slowly still.
“Aye, but MacAlister may be there. Ye’ll be using yer excuse to see Lady MacAlister as a means of getting into the castle. Besides, MacAlister moves quickly. If he intends to have his wife at his side, she too must move with haste.”
He strode toward the fire and lifted a poker to the meat. “But first, we eat.”
Two hours and a bellyful of rabbit later, Ariana strode into town with Connor on her right. Gray clouds had infiltrated the skies with the promise of more rain. She only hoped the impending storm waited until she’d been to the manor. The last thing she wanted was to arrive appearing drenched and disheveled.
At least her nails would be clean.
Her heart hammered louder in her chest the closer she got to the towering manor. Even its appearance of stoic gray stone and thickly guarded walls seemed to offer a battle cry of intimidation.
This was the first time she’d gone out in the light of day with only the cover of the same blonde wig she’d worn the night she met Lady MacAlister. The wig had been in a sorry state after being crammed in the bag, but it had been blessedly dry and brushed free of tangles with some patience.
Ariana wore a simple dress, one a servant might wear, but she’d put no kohl or carmine on her face. It left her feeling exposed, as though even the hidden light of the sun blotted from the clouds still managed to highlight her and her alone.
A man stepped in front of her. The dagger at his side glinted beside the butt of a pistol jutting from his hip.
“Where do ye think ye’re going?” he asked in a gruff voice.
Ariana’s heart smacked hard inside her ribs. Regardless, she lifted her head with the purpose of someone knowing where they intended to go.
“To see Lady MacAlister by her invitation,” she answered. This time she did not bother to hide her English accent beneath the veil of Scots, though she had been practicing to improve.
Several people nearby turned toward her, their gazes probing and immediately laced with unfriendly distrust.
“She’s no’ here,” the guard said with disinterest. His small eyes darted to where Connor stood behind her. “Beggars are no’ welcome here. Move on.”
Ariana positioned herself between the guard and Connor, intentionally grabbing the man’s attention once more. The way any woman who intended to be in the employ of a lady would.
“Lady MacAlister is expecting me.” She met the man’s gaze levelly. “I’m here expressly on her invitation.”
Irritation flickered over the man’s brutish features. “I told ye, she’s no’ here.” Again, his gaze settled on Connor.
Again, Ariana thrust herself back into his line of sight. She crossed her arms over her chest in a show of impatience. “Well, when will she be back?”
“She’s no’ arrived yet.”
Ariana sighed in the snobbish way the ladies at court did when dealing with those they found insufferable. “Then when will she arrive?”
Someone pressed past her and bumped her sideways, knocking her into Connor. Before she could right herself, a man’s aged voice whispered toward Connor in a fierce tone.
“I recognize ye. Many of us do.”
She had to force herself to not jerk her head in the direction of the man who had spoken. What had he meant by what he’d said to Connor? Who was the “us” he referred to?
The guard did not reach out to help steady Ariana after she’d been jostled and she gave him a look of reproach. “When will she be back?” she asked, louder this time, to mask the voice which had just spoken.
But her mind was not on his answer. She knew Lady MacAlister would not arrive until the evening at the earliest. A coach with a noblewoman inside could not travel as fast as she and Connor had on horseback. But she hoped it was enough of a ruse to get either herself, or Connor, into the manor.
“Very well,” Ariana said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’d like to see Laird MacAlister, then.”
The guard gave her an unmasked glower of irritation and turned his gaze toward Connor. “Is this man with ye?”
Ariana put her hands on her hips. “He was hungry and I expected your household would see him well-fed.”
The guard smirked. “We dinna take beggars. And ye’ll no’ be seeing Laird MacAlister.”
Ariana had trusted in the nobles to see their poor fed and had assumed she could get Connor inside with the ploy. But their apparent lack of interest in keeping their paupers from going hungry turned her stomach. Whoever owned the manor had immediately lost her respect.
“I’ll ensure Lady MacAlister hears of this,” she said sharply.
The guard did not seem at all bothered by her threat. The lout.
“Is Laird MacAlister arrived yet? I expect you to show me to him posthaste.” She stated her demand with precise indignation.
“Aye, he’s here, but he’ll no’ be seeing ye.” The guard gave her a triumphant look. “He’ll no’ be handling his lady’s business.”
“Very well,” Ariana snapped. “You’ll be seeing me tomorrow, and I’ll ensure her ladyship hears of your lack of manners and your obvious disinterest in helping those in need.”
She spun away before the man could respond, if he’d even meant to do so.
She had the information they needed, even if she hadn’t been able to get inside.
Laird MacAlister had arrived and was in Loch Manor.
• • •
Connor had been recognized.
But by whom?
He pulled the hood lower over his face and glanced toward the market from his place in the shadows of an
alleyway.
Everything still looked as it had three years prior. The same small, neat rows of cottages with their thatched roofs, the same wares being sold in the same luckenbooths.
Only the people had changed.
Most of them.
A chill coiled up his spine.
I recognize ye. Many of us do.
He may have recognized Connor, but Connor had not recognized him. There’d been too little time to see the man’s face, and he’d blended into the crowd of people behind them before Connor could get a second look.
Even the man’s tone had been indiscernible. There had been no note of threat, but nor had there been one of hope.
Connor stared through the cluster of people to where Ariana moved through the market and placed purchased goods in the basket strung over her arm. Provisions for the next few days.
The idea of being here another few days left his muscles tight.
He searched the crowd for a familiar face. Perhaps if he could find someone he recognized from the castle, someone he trusted who had not been slain, he could ask after the others.
But had there been others?
He thought back to the day when he’d returned to the castle to find it bathed in a river of blood. It had been a massacre.
And when it had all ended, the only movements he saw were those of the men surrounding his father.
But he hadn’t checked. A little voice in his head reminded him of this.
There hadn’t been time to check.
But the Gordons had stayed in the castle. Surely anyone alive would have been dealt with. Then there were the people of the village. Connor hadn’t gone through the village. He was too concerned with keeping Cora safe. Murdoch had told him all the villagers were dead.
Murdoch would have located the survivors if they were alive. He’d been searching too.
Everyone was dead.
From what Connor knew, only himself, Cora, and Murdoch had survived.
“I’ve finished.” A feminine voice sounded beside Connor and nearly made him part with his flesh.
Ariana studied him with an amused glint in her sea-colored eyes. “Did I scare you?” Her full lips parted in a coy smile.
He tried to give her an expression of boredom. “Of course ye dinna.”
Her smirk told him she didn’t believe the lie. “I’d tried to get your attention, but you were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see me.”
Irritation coiled through him.
First being distracted by Ariana back in the town near Kindrochit, and now being lost in his musings over the potential survivors of Urquhart Castle’s massacre.
The weight of his thoughts pulled him to a point of sleeplessness, save the rarity of the previous night with Ariana.
The burden, the exhaustion—it was all catching up with him.
His father would have been disappointed by his performance.
As soon as it’d come, Connor knew the thought to be a lie. The Shadow had never found fault in his son.
“Meet me on the outskirts of town,” Connor said. “Stay where ye can be seen.” Her light-colored gown would be too conspicuous and she was safer if she continued to pretend to be a woman out gathering household wares and food stores for her mistress.
Ariana nodded and slipped back out into the busy marketplace.
Connor made his way through the shadows, moving with the invisibility of a beggar.
A strong part of him did not want to return to Urquhart.
Unease prickled along his scalp.
There could be an ambush.
Or his people could be alive and in need of their laird. The idea of them needing him and him not being there crushed inside his chest.
But first he needed to see to his obligation to the king and ensure Cora was safe, which meant eliminating MacAlister.
The rows of houses gave way to several trees and an open grassy field. Ariana appeared beside him and held up her basket to show bundled vegetables and small wrapped parcels.
“Tonight, we dine well.” The anticipation for such a meal was evident in her wide smile.
“We’ll dine well, but we’ll do so early. We have much to do tonight.”
Ariana lowered the basket and her eyes sparkled. “Will I be scaling a wall into the manor with you? If so, you’ll need to teach me.”
“Nay, lass. Ye’ll be standing guard while I do it.” He started walking toward Urquhart before he could let himself see her disappointment. This was always the difficult part—performing the assassination without the girls knowing.
His hands were stained with blood. Theirs did not have to be.
He would protect their innocence at any cost.
No matter how they begrudged him for it.
“What I need from MacAlister is something only I can attain.” His absent reply was the same he gave the other girls as they’d unwittingly assisted with each of his missions. “I’ll need ye to be a distraction. Nothing more, aye?”
A low rumble sounded overhead, promising more rain. He thought of Urquhart and reaching the safety of the tower.
His people had not seen safety there.
They might not have known safety for some time.
“Lady MacAlister appeared to be quite knowledgeable,” Ariana continued. “If we ask tomorrow, I can help.”
Several drops of rain spattered the top of Connor’s head. “We have what we need. This is something I prefer to do on my own. What I seek is highly sensitive.” He flicked the excess length of his plaid over his head and increased his pace.
The sooner they finished this task, the sooner he could devote himself to seeking out the surviving members of his clan. Gordon could wait a few more days for his death. Connor wanted to know of his people’s fate. But not before he’d killed MacAlister and secured Cora’s safety.
Perhaps even with Ariana’s aid.
“But Lady MacAlister might be more willing to part with information the laird will not,” Ariana said.
The constant interruption of important thoughts ground at Connor’s patience and made him spin around to face her. “We’ll go tonight—before Lady MacAlister arrives.”
Ariana was silent for a moment. “I’m perfectly capable.”
Connor shook his head.
“I won’t mess things up. I’ve been trained—”
“I know ye’ve been trained.” Connor’s control snapped like a thread drawn too tight. “Ariana, we need to return to Kindrochit. Ye either obey my orders without question, or ye stay behind and I handle the task on my own.”
She quieted then, and a part of him winced with guilt for having spoken harshly.
Deep down, despite his remorse, he knew he’d done the right thing. She would keep her hands and her conscience clean, and he would perform his duty to his sovereign, which might one day release Urquhart to him once more.
Chapter 19
The cover of night was always the best cloak for killing.
With stomachs full of a hearty meal, Connor had set out with Ariana at his side. The sun had dropped away during their trek and a thick blanket of fog had spread over the land in a smoky film.
The manor was not far from the castle. It was a brisk walk of perhaps half an hour, but they didn’t have to worry after they tethered their horses. Horses weren’t discreet, especially ones belonging to a beggar and a whore.
Fortunately for them, the rain had ceased long before supper.
Together they crouched behind a thick bush with waxy green leaves. In addition to the fog, it offered a sufficient amount of coverage.
Connor’s heart thudded in a hard tempo low in the pit of his stomach. He’d brought his knife with him, though hopefully he wouldn’t have to use it. Of the men he’d killed, he’d had to slit very few throats. It was a messy death and absent the discretion King James insisted upon.
But in some cases, it couldn’t be helped.
Connor filled his lungs with a deep breath of cool air. The rich, moist scent of the
earth underfoot blended with the faint aroma of something spiced roasting within the manor. The large stone tower was filled with life, and soon he would take one of those lives.
That knowledge twisted in his gut like a hot blade.
He let his gaze dart over the multiple guards positioned at various points throughout the manor wall. Not all were visible due to the heavy fog, but of those he could see, he knew the manor to be heavily fortified. He’d noticed as much earlier that day.
Getting inside would be difficult, but not impossible.
He found Ariana’s determined gaze in the shielded moonlight. “There are a lot of soldiers on guard,” he whispered.
She nodded and looked over the bush once more.
“I’m going to try to go in through one of the side windows. Ye’ll need to stand guard and offer distraction if needed.”
Again she nodded. She would have no issue distracting the men, Connor knew.
To avoid being recognized from when she’d been in town earlier, she’d left off the blonde wig and worn her own beautiful dark hair like a crown. Her servant’s attire had been easily modified with flimsy fabric and a few notches of her bodice left undone.
Connor pulled his gaze from Ariana.
It was time.
His mind screamed at him not to go and his limbs felt too heavy to push forward. The same reaction, every time. Regardless of what he knew of the person, no matter how corrupt or cruel they were.
Even this man, who put Cora’s security at risk.
It was another life he would be taking, another ghost to add to the collection surfacing in his nightmares.
Ariana looked at him with a blank expression and he knew she wondered at his delay.
Her suspicion was unwelcome.
He took another deep breath and slipped around the bushes without making a sound.
The blade was cumbersome where it was tucked against his belt.
God save him, using his blade was one of the worst options.
No, breaking the neck would be ideal. A sharp snap when the man least expected it. Connor flexed his hands in preparation for the vibration of the sickening crack he’d experienced more times than he cared to count.
Highland Spy Page 15