The man gave a low groan.
“We need to go,” he said sharply.
Together they fled the alleyway and headed toward the first tavern opposite the crowd.
“They’re using MacAlister’s death to incite a riot,” she said.
Connor’s jaw set. “Aye, I know. They havena had a strong leader here since my da. The king owns the manor, but so many nobles come and go, it isna enough to maintain order. They’ve got a king, one who pays them no mind. They need a laird.”
A wooden sign with a boar’s head etched into it hung over the scarred door of the tavern. Connor pushed it open and they both entered the stuffy room.
The small windows along the wall did little to let in light, and most of the rows of tables seemed to fade into the darkness. Tallow candles sputtered out streams of thick, greasy smoke at several tables. The place was almost entirely empty.
But there was an underlying scent to the heavy odor of burning grease—the savory, tantalizing aroma of roasting meat.
“Two ales,” Connor told the woman who watched them from across the room.
Another woman appeared beside her, a brunette whose face looked entirely too familiar to ignore.
“Wait here,” he murmured to Ariana.
He made his way quickly across the empty room to where the other woman stood. Up close he was even more certain he knew her: the point of her nose, the small notch dimpling where the point of a chin would be. “Ye look familiar,” he said.
The woman glanced toward where Ariana sat before turning a coy smile on him. “I get that from all the lads.”
“I think I’ve seen ye before. At Urquhart.”
The upturn of her lips wilted and her eyes narrowed slightly. “Ye must be mistaken. I havena been to Urquhart in some time. No’ any of us have.”
There was something guarded about the way she crossed her arms, as if in stubborn defiance. The movement was even more familiar and gnawed at his memory.
He didn’t remember her name, but he knew one thing for certain—she would not be talking. Not with what his people had suffered.
But it did not dampen his spirits. If he’d found one of his clan, he would find more.
• • •
The throbbing in the pit of Ariana’s stomach had been present since she’d woken. Now, it was near pulsing with an almost frenzied excitement. She knew immediately what it was—dread.
The barmaid approached Ariana’s table and placed the two cups of ale before her.
Ariana nodded her thanks and glanced around the woman’s retreating frame to where Connor still spoke to the brunette on the opposite side of the room.
He was occupied.
This might be Ariana’s only chance.
She pulled the slender vial from the pocket in her dress, where she’d tucked it for accessibility and discretion. The clear liquid inside caught the meager light from the windows.
With one last glance toward Connor to ensure he was occupied, she tugged the small stopper from the vial. A bit of liquid splashed onto the heel of her palm. Not enough to matter, but enough to betray how badly her hands shook.
She emptied the contents into one mug with an almost imperceptible splash and pushed the offending mug away from her, to where Connor would likely sit.
Another glance confirmed he still had not turned toward her.
Her heart fluttered in a rush of panic and doubt.
Perhaps she should just ask him if she could leave.
Throughout their journey, the idea had rolled its way smooth by the constant churning of her thoughts. But Sylvi’s words always came back to her.
No one just walks away.
If she was correct, and there was no way to quietly leave it all behind, then Ariana was better off not asking Connor. He was a perceptive man and far too intelligent to trick if he knew a blow was coming. Her asking would be all the warning he’d need of what she intended to do. And she didn’t intend to hurt him—just leave him quietly sleeping.
Somehow the thought did not untangle the knot in her stomach.
He turned from the woman and made his way back to the small table where Ariana sat.
His gait was confident and a slight smile showed on his full lips. He sat down across from her. In front of the laced ale.
His sharp jaw was so smooth, her palm ached to brush it, and he’d put on a new léine and plaid—fine ones. She’d never seen him like this before, looking every bit the laird he should be.
Looking so very handsome and noble.
“It’ll be nice to have a good ale after three hard days’ travel,” he said with an earnest smile.
The guilt rose like bile in the back of her throat, but she swallowed it down with her own ale and gave a weak nod. She should have been more convincing, but it was all she could force herself to muster.
“That good, huh?” He winked at her and put his cup to his lips.
Ariana’s chest squeezed.
If she was going to stop him, now would be the time. The world around her seemed to shrink back and slow down.
He tipped the cup.
Everything faded away but him and the strong flex of his throat as he swallowed.
She could scarce draw breath, or even think.
He set the mug to the table and nodded in appreciation. “Now that is some good ale.”
Ariana smiled, but it felt as if it were stretching her face into something foreign and unwanted. How soon would it begin to work?
She tried to remember the last time she’d used the vial. Her nerves had been so frayed then, her whole body so on edge. She’d been far too distracted to count time.
Outside came the sound of the crowd shouting something indiscernible.
Indiscernible, but close.
Connor narrowed his eyes and looked past her to the small windows set against the front of the tavern. “I think there might be an uprising if the king’s nobles can’t get a handle on that crowd.”
His gaze returned to her and his brow puckered. “Surely ye are no’ worried.”
Tears stung in her eyes and her throat clogged with guilt.
“Ariana.” His voice was tender. It might have been soothing had she not felt so awful.
He covered her hand with the warmth of his. “Ye can talk to me, lass.”
“I want to leave.” She’d practiced the admission in her mind a thousand times over. Always it’d come out confident and insistent. Now it emerged a whisper.
He stared at her a long moment without speaking. But not without feeling.
She could see the pain burn bright in his eyes, in those beautiful hazel eyes she’d spent far too much time studying.
He cleared his throat and his gaze shielded his emotions.
He had his own defenses, and he was clearly using them on her.
“I dinna want ye to leave,” he said finally.
His hand still rested atop hers and his palm had begun to sweat. It was apparent the draught was beginning to take effect. Connor blinked slowly and shook his head, as if he could shake off the feeling creeping over him.
Ariana knew it was a useless gesture.
“You don’t have a choice,” she said.
“What have ye done?” he ground out.
She had to swallow down the hard knot in her throat before she could answer. “I’m sorry, Connor.”
“Ye’re sorry.” He repeated her words with a bitter edge.
“Sometimes sorry is not enough, is it?” It was her turn to let bitterness seep into her tone. “You were sorry, and now I am too. There is no better way to end this than that.”
Connor lifted his drooping head and eyed her before letting it fall forward once more.
Ariana rushed to the barmaid. “My friend is tired,” she said in Gaelic. “I’d like a room for him.”
After the exchange of a precious coin, Ariana had secured a room on the small second floor and hefted Connor slowly up the stairs. His arm was draped over her shoulders and his footsteps we
re heavy and labored, dragging more than walking.
Somehow she managed to keep him propped upright—herself as well, which was a small miracle considering the burden of his body weight—and open the door to the narrow room.
It was simple, with little more than a bed within, but it appeared clean enough. She shuffled her feet across the floor, careful to never let herself lose her footing, and managed to ease Connor onto the bed.
Something hard and firm clasped over her wrist as she turned to go. She spun around and found Connor’s hand locked on her and his eyes slitted open.
“I trusted ye.” He swallowed. “Ye know more about me than anyone. Like Kenneth.”
Her tears threatened to choke her now. She pulled her hand free and backed away before she lost her nerve. “I’ll never betray those secrets or compromise your mission.” It was a promise she meant to keep.
Then she locked the door behind her and fled the room.
The streets outside churned with unrest and it bled into the chaos of her own mind. People shoved against one another, incensed with rage. There were so many more than the original group of people they’d seen on the street. And so much more anger.
The loud group from the streets was quickly turning into a mob.
Ariana tried not to think of Connor sleeping on the bed.
Helpless.
She’d locked the door, of course. But then, the door was as flimsy as parchment.
The green swells of hills just outside of town were her freedom. Away from the grip of hazel eyes, away from Connor, to a life of her own choosing. Away from a life that once again required she keep herself from feeling to avoid being hurt.
The sound of a gunshot rang out behind her. People surged forward with a cry, scattering as vermin do when light falls upon them.
They bumped and bustled past her, but she held her ground—no longer moving forward, but moving back.
Toward Connor.
Her breath came hard and fast in panicked, panting breaths. She needed to be there, to protect him while he slept.
Oh, God—what had she done?
After all these months he’d protected her, and she abandoned him to danger.
She shoved through the crowd streaming past her, ducking wild blows and sidling around swells thick with people. She didn’t stop until the swinging tavern sign came into view.
Relief choked off her breath until she was almost dizzy.
She shoved through the inn door to find the place completely empty. The candles still flickered on the table, but not a soul emerged from the door to the kitchen.
Ariana didn’t wait to see if they eventually did. She charged up the stairs and stopped.
The door to Connor’s room stood open.
Her heart lodged itself in her throat. She tried to swallow it down—to no avail.
No sound met her ears.
The fine hair along the back of her neck stood on end.
She slipped the dagger from her thigh through the false pocket of her gown and cautiously approached the room. A cry burst from her throat.
Connor’s bed was empty.
Chapter 31
The nausea threatening to overtake Connor was even worse outside.
The street was thick with people, and the odor of so many together mingling with the stink of their fear was almost more than he could bear.
He braced himself against the wall and let the rough exterior scrape over his cheek. The more he could feel, the more aware he was.
And the more aware he was, the more easily he’d be able to find Ariana.
His heart constricted around what she’d said.
Sometimes sorry is not enough, is it?
He knew too well what apology she’d been referring to. When they’d arrived at Kindrochit with Isabel and he’d told her to keep their coupling a secret. He grimaced at the memory.
She was right. Sorry wasn’t enough.
And he’d be damned if he made the same mistake again.
If he had the chance.
Frustration bunched across his shoulders. He needed to find her.
The world blurred and he shook his head yet again. His neck had begun to ache from the repeated action.
Not that it did much to help.
He pushed himself from the building and staggered forward.
Strong hands grasped his shoulder and pulled. Connor lurched backward and tried to swing out his hand, but his arm was too heavy to lift.
“I have ye, laird. Dinna worry.” There was a soothing quality to the voice in his ear, and the person seemed to be propping him up rather than shoving at him.
Laird.
His delayed thoughts repeated the word back to him.
He lifted his gaze and found a woman looking back at him. The woman from the tavern who’d insisted she didn’t look familiar. He concentrated on her face while the rest of the world spun around him. Her name peeled away from the fog of his mind.
“Anise.”
She nodded. “Sorry I acted as though I dinna recognize ye earlier. I dinna want unwanted people to hear. Ye dinna know who is listening.” Her lips lifted in a kind smile. “Yer people have waited a long time to see ye again.”
His people were waiting for him.
Ariana.
He hadn’t found her yet.
But he’d abandoned his people once before. He could not do so again.
And he was so, so damn tired.
“Where’s Ariana?” he asked on an exhale.
“The lass ye came in with?” Anise shifted his weight, and only then did he realize he was drooping toward the ground. “Dinna worry, laird. We have her too.”
• • •
After asking the girl from the tavern, Anise, if she’d seen Connor, Ariana was led to a room behind the inn. She’d been given food and drink and the promise of Connor’s safe return, but it was not enough.
Anxiety rippled through her. She jerked away from the small table and paced the room while keeping her gaze fixed on the only door to the room, and the two men who stood near it.
The door still had not opened.
Connor had not been found.
Anise could have lied. But then, Ariana had been too desperate to care.
Now though, Ariana studied the two men who stood on opposite sides of the door. For her protection, Anise had said.
They were both large. Taller than Connor and thickened with fat over muscle, lending them a bulky show of more strength than they likely possessed. They both wore their dark hair unbound over their shoulders and matching indifferent expressions.
Right now, it felt more like they were there to ensure she didn’t leave. Like their presence was meant to intimidate rather than reassure. The whitewashed walls around her seemed to press in.
She’d left her lockpick hair pin back at Urquhart. She could have kicked herself for the oversight. The men would be difficult to take given their size, but she could have done it. The solid oak door however, which Anise had locked when she left, would be difficult to open without the proper tool.
She’d been so close to freedom.
She never should have returned.
And yet…
Connor.
Her gaze crept unbidden toward the door.
This time it opened.
Her heart leapt into a staggered beat. Anise shuffled in, and Ariana’s “protectors” rushed forward to pull Connor from where he stood slumped against her. He pushed stubbornly away from the men and lifted his head, eyes squinting in her direction.
“Ye’re here,” he said in a slurred voice.
Shame made her cheeks hot. “I came back.”
His face relaxed into a smile, the kind that might have melted her heart had she let herself be susceptible.
She went to him, but kept herself from reaching out to comfort—either him or herself.
“Why are you not sleeping?” she asked.
He squinted at his palm and held up an empty vial held between his thumb and for
efinger. “Percy gave me this to use if I ever found myself poisoned. It’s slow working, but it kept me awake.”
“Why did you leave the room?” she asked.
He looked at her with piercing honesty. “To find ye.”
“I’d planned to leave,” she confessed.
“Aye,” he said seriously. “And I’d hoped to change yer mind.”
Anise held up a mug of ale between them. “Drink, laird. There’s much to discuss.” Up close, she was even younger than Ariana had assumed. Her face was untouched by the lines of age and her eyes held a helplessness only the young possessed.
“Did my da find ye?” Anise asked.
“Renny.” Connor’s voice came out in a deep scrape of gravel. Only Ariana knew it had nothing to do with having been poisoned.
Anise nodded, and the white cap she wore fluttered over her brow. “Aye, he saw ye in town and said he’d follow ye, so ye’d know we were here.” Her eyes were rimmed with emotion. “All this time, we’d thought ye were dead.”
Ariana glanced toward Connor, but he did not meet her gaze.
“Renny followed me, but I dinna know.” He drew his palm down over his face and let his hand fall away. “Anise, I’m sorry to tell ye this, lass. He’s—”
“No.” She shook her head and her eyes went wide. “No. It couldna be. He was too strong, too brave.”
Ariana backed slowly away to give the young woman her privacy. But the obvious pain on her face pulled at something deep down in Ariana. The woman had clearly loved her father. She’d mourned his passing in a manner Ariana had been unable to, yet always wished she’d had the opportunity to.
Connor put a hand on Anise’s shoulder, as he often did to all the women at Kindrochit when he wanted them to know he was being serious. “We brought him back with us and buried him at Urquhart.”
Anise lifted her head and offered a brave smile. “Ye’re a good laird. Even after all this time.”
Ariana winced inwardly, knowing Connor would disagree with the statement and how deeply it would cut him.
He paced the small room, like an agitated beast stalking the length of its cage. “I’d assumed ye were all dead. I dinna…” He pursed his lips. “I dinna come check myself. I couldna stand the pain of discovering what I thought I knew. I left ye to fend for yerselves.”
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