Going out again.
Those words drew tighter, like the knot of a noose around Ariana’s neck.
“You said tonight,” Ariana said. “When specifically?”
Percy pressed a small dagger into Ariana’s hand. “Within the hour.”
The noose went taut.
An hour. She’d only just seen Liv again, and helped Isabel get comfortable at Kindrochit.
“So soon?” Ariana’s question came out in a breathy exhale.
Percy stopped moving around the room and came to Ariana with a whispering swish of her skirt. She clasped Ariana’s hand in hers. “I know you don’t want to do this, but you know how dangerous it can be when you’re alone. Connor is strong, yes, but I still worry about him. I worry about all of you.”
But it was not the quiet plea in Percy’s desperate gaze which swayed Ariana’s heart. No, it was a far more selfish reason.
Opportunity.
It would be too hard to leave from Kindrochit. Liv might feel as though Ariana had abandoned her. There were too many in the castle who knew to track her steps. She would be found quickly.
Or maybe she wouldn’t be able to stay away and leave the others hurt at her absence.
But to leave on a mission… No one would feel the burn of offense, save Connor. And it was apparent he felt nothing for Ariana but lust.
In their travels to Urquhart, they would be three days out from Kindrochit. Ariana could easily find a way to slip the draught to Connor one night and then, while he slept, she could quietly slip away and begin a new life.
“Yes,” she said finally. “I’ll go with him.”
Percy pressed a hand to her chest with a relieved smile.
And Ariana tried her best to avoid the burden of guilt for what she planned to do.
Escape.
Chapter 29
The angry flush on Ariana’s face told Connor all he needed to know about how she felt traveling with him. She held a pair of shoes pinched between her fingers and one of Percy’s travel satchels loosely slung over her forearm.
Her eyes flickered to him, then back to the hall. She hadn’t even bothered to slow down as she passed.
He wanted to call out to her, to get her attention and hope he could somehow right all his wrongs.
And he had so damn many.
“Ariana,” he said.
She stopped and waited a brief moment before turning back toward him.
The apology sat heavy on his tongue. There was no use in apologizing again. But he was sorry.
The light coming in from the window lit her skin and the beautiful clear blue-green of her eyes. She’d been like silk under his hands. He longed to touch her again.
She arched an eyebrow in silent inquiry.
“I’ll keep ye safe this time,” he said finally.
Her chin notched upward. “I can take care of myself.”
There was a cold edge to her voice, one he’d never heard before. One he never wanted to hear again.
He liked the sweet feminine confidence with which she spoke.
This, he realized, would be a long trip. He regretted having promised Percy he would take Ariana with him. Things would be so much easier without her.
He followed her out to the stable and found her with her hands on her hips. Her gaze snapped toward him when he entered. “You didn’t have to start preparing my horse. I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”
“I know ye’re capable.” He dropped his own travel items to the straw-covered floor. “Which is why I dinna do anything with yer horse.”
The mare dipped her head toward Ariana, who absently rubbed the large velvety cheek with her free hand. “Then why is she in a different stall?”
Connor looked at the stalls in front of him. “Are ye sure?”
He remembered being in the stable with Ariana all too well. He’d burned so hot with longing for her.
And she’d so readily rejected him.
He certainly wouldn’t make that mistake again.
From what he remembered, her horse had been closer to his. She had been closer to him.
“I’m almost certain.” Doubt faded the conviction from her voice.
“We were tired when we arrived,” he added. And distracted. But he didn’t speak the additional thought.
She frowned slightly and set her items on the floor beside an already stuffed bag.
Connor lifted the metal links from the wall to attach the loop which would connect the cart to his horse. They clinked against one another in a metallic jingle. Ariana’s horse gave an annoyed swish of her tail.
“What’s that?” Ariana asked.
He grabbed the Y-shaped bar used for keeping the cart sturdy as they rode. “A piece of a cart.”
She regarded him from the corner of her eye. “Why do we need a cart?”
“For the body,” Connor replied.
Ariana’s eyes widened. “You can’t mean we’ll be traveling with him being carted behind us.”
He nodded. “Aye, I do. If anything, it’ll decrease any chance of a robbery. Funeral parties are seldom attacked. It’s bad luck.”
Ariana opened her mouth as if she wished to say something more, but then let her lips close.
The cool air between them had grown hot with friction.
Connor straightened and regarded her with a hard stare. “Ye dinna have to come, Ariana. I can go alone.”
She gave him a narrowed expression that could only be described as shrewd. “I said I’m coming.”
“It’ll be a hard trek.” He realized he wanted her to back out of the trip with him, to find it too daunting. “We need to get there in as short a time as possible, but we canna travel as fast. That means less sleep, less rest.”
On their last trip to Urquhart, Ariana’s presence had made the return to his family’s home more bearable. The connection between them had been strong then, her regard toward him so sweet, so caring, so accepting—even after he’d told her about his da’s death.
Even after his confession about what he did for the king.
But now the connection had been snapped by his own hand, and her warmth had gone cold. It was better this way.
“Ye dinna have to go, Ariana. Ye can stay here with Liv and help her train.” His tone was urging.
“I said I’d go.” Her cheeks flared with a flush of red. She snatched up her bag from the ground and shot him a challenging look. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Connor Grant.”
Somehow he knew she referred to more than just her involvement in this personal mission.
And somehow he knew she was entirely correct.
• • •
The body complicated everything.
Ariana let her gaze glide to the flat cart trailing behind Connor’s horse. He’d been correct. They could not travel as quickly, and they had sacrificed sleep to cover the same amount of ground. A lot of sleep.
Even more so, the body made it difficult to come up with an ideal time to slip Connor the draught.
Leaving Connor to sleep off the effects in safety while she slipped away was one thing. Leaving a body unattended was quite another.
It was the beginning of the third day, if it could even be called “day,” as the sun had not yet risen. There hadn’t exactly been ample opportunities to slip him the drug, as most of their meals were taken quickly and in painful silence. Still, had there been a moment she could have dumped the contents into his drink, her conscience wouldn’t have allowed her to.
Not until the man was buried.
Whoever he was.
Ariana’s eyes were gritty with lack of sleep and a fog of exhaustion clouded her thoughts with a milky haze.
At least this time they hadn’t had the rain. The sun hung high above them now and lit the world around her in glowing emerald green. If her head did not ache so, she knew she would have found the effect beautiful.
As it was, the brilliance shattered in her mind like shards of light from a glinting gem.
Connor did not much care for those moments of sunshine either, and he’d urge the horses to move with more haste over the rugged terrain.
She expected their return to Urquhart had more to do with the man who had recognized Connor than the man they were burying.
While Connor hadn’t explained the reason they were coming back to Urquhart, he had on more than one occasion looked at her. Sometimes a quick glance, other times a long, contemplative stare.
She’d noted them all.
Though the silence between them was a cool salve she embraced, she needed information on what to expect when they arrived. Especially if she would need to hold off on her escape until they were no longer in possession of the body.
She regarded the plaid-covered shape on the cart once more, the outline beneath so distinctly human, the lack of movement so disconcertingly devoid of life.
The cart lurched over an unseen object and the body jerked with the rough-hewn wood structure before settling stiffly once more.
She looked at Connor and found his jaw clenched. He knew who was beneath the plaid.
He knew and he cared.
“Who was he?” Ariana asked.
She hadn’t been next to Connor when the man’s head had almost plunged from his body, but she’d been close enough to see the carnage. And to witness the hurt crack Connor’s stoic exterior.
“Ye’re talking to me now?” He didn’t look at her when he spoke.
“I don’t have to.” Ariana fixed her own gaze forward and stared out at where the grass was starting to warm into a more vibrant green on the path before them.
The silence settled over them again, but this time it did not feel like a cool balm. This time it was hot and tight and oppressive.
Her pulse simmered with a rebellious fire where all the pain—all the aching, soul-sucking pain she never wanted to acknowledge—curled into ash. If only it would blow away and leave her with nothing.
“I knew him,” Connor said, interrupting the torment of her own thoughts. “From Urquhart. His name was Renny, our blacksmith. I thought he was dead.” He frowned. “I mean, I thought he’d died that day when Urquhart fell. I thought they all had. Yet how could Renny have found me where I was? How could he be so far from Urquhart, unless he knew I was alive and sought me out?”
“Now you want to go back to see if anyone else lives?”
“If there are people still alive…” He focused on something unseen in the distance. “Then I abandoned them to pursue my own selfish endeavors.”
She wanted to console him, to offer her support to carry the weight of his burden. But to give her sympathy would be to open her heart, an act she could ill afford to do.
She reminded herself of the hurt he’d inflicted upon her when he’d rejected her. It was pressure against a fresh wound, and brought up the shield around her heart.
“What do you expect to find when we return?” she asked.
“I’m no’ sure.”
“If they are alive, what do you intend to do?”
“I’m no’ sure.”
Ariana remembered the additional items Percy had given her before they left Kindrochit. Not just food to tide them over for at least a week, but also a small dagger to hide in her bodice, and a pair of plain brown shoes with false bottoms.
The shoes were quite extraordinary. One need only to press one’s weight on the heel and twist to slide loose the trap door, revealing the single compartment. Within was another slender dagger which was sheathed under the foot, and a narrow slit on the side held a spare vial.
The shoes, which Ariana currently wore, were surprisingly comfortable.
The mix of items meant Percy hadn’t known what to expect either.
Neither Connor nor Ariana spoke again until it was well into the night and they’d made their way into the silent walls of Urquhart Castle.
Connor wasted no time preparing the grave, though the moon rose as high above them as the sun had that afternoon. Ariana would not offer him consolation, yet she did not leave him to bury his friend alone.
She grabbed an extra shovel and worked at his side, plunging the wide head into the soil until the earthy, moist scent surrounded them and the hole was deep enough to bury Renny.
Together they slid his stiff body into the waiting grave and shoveled the dirt back over him. When they were done, the mound of broken earth marked all that had once been a man. Like Connor’s father buried somewhere, hidden from his enemies. Like the guard they’d buried in the woods.
Her heart flinched at the thought.
Connor stayed for a long while, staring at the grave, and Ariana did not move from his side. Her arms ached to hold him, but she knew she could ill afford the attempt to comfort.
Finally, at long last, he turned to her. “Thank ye for yer help.”
Deep lines and shadows were visible on his face, his exhaustion as evident as hers felt. He opened his mouth, as though he intended to say more, and then stopped. “We should go to sleep. Tomorrow I hope to find the survivors of the massacre at Urquhart.”
She followed obediently behind him and hardened her resolve for what must be done before his people could be found. Renny was buried now. The corpse would no longer be left unattended.
Her footsteps were heavy with exhaustion, but her heart raced with a heady rush.
Tomorrow. She would escape tomorrow, after she’d had sufficient rest.
At her first opportunity, she would slip him the draught and leave.
Chapter 30
Connor stared out the narrow window at Loch Ness and tried not to let his gaze slip from the dazzling flecks of light dancing over the water to the bonny woman sleeping on the floor. The same as the last time he’d been at Urquhart with Ariana.
It was difficult for him not to stare with her sleeping so close, her black hair around her face like a silk curtain.
Since they’d returned to Kindrochit, he’d only seen her face either a hard set of determination or completely devoid of any emotion.
But now…
He let his gaze slip from the sunlit swells of hills framing the loch to Ariana, and unabashedly began to study her beauty.
Now her face was soft, her lips slightly pouted, her brow smooth.
She gave a heavy-lidded blink and he shifted his gaze back toward the loch.
“I’d almost given up on ye.” He’d meant it as a light jest, but the words fell flat.
Irritation niggled at him, though at himself or her or the situation, he had no idea.
Maybe a little of all.
“Are you wearing that?” Her voice was husky with sleep.
He hadn’t opted for his usual beggar’s attire of rags and the musk of horse manure. Usually he meant to discourage people from getting too close. But a laird could not approach his people thus, and so he’d donned his finest léine and newest plaid. He’d scraped his face with care by the loch. He even wore his father’s ring, though it sat heavy against his skin.
His stomach tightened at the idea of seeing his people again.
If he found them. If they wanted to see him.
So many damn ifs.
“Aye, I’m wearing this,” he answered. “We’ll break our fast in town once ye’re dressed.”
Ariana dressed quickly in a separate room and emerged wearing a simple green dress of good quality, also unusual attire for a mission.
Their trek into town was silent and uneventful. The same could not be said of their arrival.
The echo of cheers and cries carried on the wind and greeted them before their feet touched the hard-packed streets of the town. One man’s voice rose high above the others, then another round of cheering.
Connor put a hand out to stay Ariana. It was a leader’s instinct to protect those he was responsible for, but she did not take it as such. She shot him a frown and made her way past him toward the crowd, her shoulders squared with a soldier’s confidence.
On the street just behind the first several buildings was
a crowd of people gathered around something. Or someone.
“This is the reason we have disorder here,” a male voice called out. “For the rich have more and the poor have less.”
The crowd gave a roar of assent.
Ariana pushed her way through the crowd and disappeared from view.
Alarm buzzed in the back of his mind. It was not typical for her to stray from him. He knew she was trying to prove her ability to care for herself, but the price could be foolishly high.
Frustration knotted at his shoulders. He shoved into the crowd after her, his gaze sweeping the faces—not only for Ariana, but also his people.
He found neither.
A man in the obvious cast-off clothing of a noble stood with an air of pretension in the center of the crowd.
“MacAlister and his wife were killed by their own wickedness.” The man’s hand curled into a fist. “And many more like them will pay if we dinna get what we need.”
The crowd shifted around him, agitated.
This—this was what happened when a king stripped a laird of his lands and passed the care of them to nobles who took turns at a manor as if it were a hunting lodge rather than a manor managing the lives of its citizens.
Even if Connor did not locate his people, he’d need to find a way to reclaim Urquhart before everyone killed each other in the impending riot, the anticipation for which crackled in the air.
A flash of green caught his eye. A slip of a lass with dark hair who disappeared into the shadows with far too much ease to be anyone but Ariana.
He forced his way from the crowd and ignored the stares prickling at his back. A grunt sounded from the dark space between two buildings where Ariana had disappeared.
A male grunt.
Connor quickened his pace and arrived just as Ariana swung her elbow up high enough to catch the man in the jaw. The man collapsed to the ground.
She spun toward Connor with her arms bent in front of her face in preparation to attack.
She dropped her hands when she recognized him and gave a little half smirk, obviously pleased with herself.
On the one hand, he wasn’t especially pleased with her, but on the other, he knew the bloodlust of crowds could whip into frenzy. And her approach had been flawless.
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