A flurry of activity below caught Connor’s attention. The flash of a green dress. His stomach sank when he realized the location from which the disturbance had arisen.
The side of the room.
The card tables.
A small cluster of people had stopped and turned toward the table, observing it as one might a London play. His gaze settled on the brilliant green dress. Ariana was standing with several well-groomed Englishmen already before her and another behind her.
Connor muttered a curse under his breath. Five minutes he’d left her alone, and she’d made her way to the card tables. His irritation at her decision to leave grated through him. If she didn’t last five minutes here, how the hell did she plan to survive on her own?
“Do ye know them?” Kenneth asked.
“I know her.” It was all Connor had gotten out when one of the men reached out and grabbed Ariana’s wrist.
All thought fled his mind and his body launched into action, propelling him through the crowd, away from Kenneth, and toward the men who sought to harm Ariana.
Chapter 33
Ariana’s wrist was caught in a viselike grip. The man’s face was familiar. She’d seen him once at court, but her memory was little more than fractured thoughts and unfulfilled plans to escape.
“I asked if you were cheating, girl,” the man snarled. His wig was set too far back and made his forehead seem to stop halfway over the top of his skull.
She could attack him. She could grab the wig and then rush at him when he was surprised at her assault.
The man’s front teeth clamped flush together and his lips pulled back. “Answer me.”
It would be an ideal way to escape were there not so many people watching.
The attack would be anything but discreet. And if she recognized one man, there would be others. Her name had remained untarnished thus far. She could not afford to—
His hand was ripped from her arm.
And Connor was there. At her side.
“Who is this?” the Englishman demanded.
“The man who isna going to let ye touch her once more.” Connor’s tone was low and threatening.
The Englishman smirked. “And if I do?”
Connor shifted from Ariana’s side toward the front of her. “I dinna think ye want to.” His shoulders squared. He was bracing himself for a fight.
The stubborn part of her balked at the idea that he thought her incapable of protecting herself, but the more logical part realized he was solving the socially complex situation she’d created.
A man could far more easily deliver a blow at a ball than a lady.
“Is there a problem here?” An unfamiliar male voice asked, his Scottish burr smooth and unfettered.
A quick glance confirmed it was Kenneth Gordon. He was taller than Connor and thick with muscle. Despite his bulk, he walked with the ease of a man half his size.
Relief at his arrival fluttered through Ariana for the briefest of moments.
When Connor first left, she had truly feared he intended to kill Kenneth—something she knew deep down he did not want.
“This girl cheated.” The Englishman pointed an accusing finger toward her and Connor’s body visibly flexed.
Kenneth lifted a hand in the air. “I’m sure ye’re mistaken—”
“I’m sure I’m not.” The Englishman’s face had gone from a soft pink to a deep red and the skin on his cheeks shone in the candlelight.
“These are friends of mine.” Kenneth’s voice did not rise, but the man did not interrupt again. “Surely ye wouldna want to insult friends of the host. We greatly appreciate hospitality in the Highlands—as ye well know.”
Now every person in the room appeared to be staring. The chatter had faded to almost nothing, and Kenneth’s calm voice carried throughout.
“I’ll ensure all funds are replaced,” Kenneth continued.
“They’re all still there.” Ariana nodded toward the pile she left on the table.
The Englishman shot a dark look at Ariana, but allowed himself to be drawn away by one of his companions.
The crowd, deprived of their entertainment, turned from the scene and went back to their conversations and revelry.
Kenneth turned toward Connor. “Meet me tomorrow. Give me a chance to explain.”
A pause ensued for a long moment before Connor finally nodded. “Aye, at noon then. By the church.”
Kenneth nodded. The men embraced like friends and Kenneth gave Connor one last lingering look before disappearing into the crowd.
Finally, Connor turned and looked at Ariana. He didn’t say a word, but the disappointment was evident in his gaze.
She hated how his reaction cut into her more than angry words possibly would have. She wanted to offer a justification for her actions, to find something else to blame other than what her gambling had been in the first place—spite.
She’d felt the need to prove to herself she could still slip cards and win—to prove she could still take care of herself.
And she’d failed.
Now it was not only Connor’s disappointment she had to suffer, but her own.
He led her from the hall under the gaze of more than one English and Scottish noble, but he did not speak to her—not through the long walk back toward the inn where they stayed, nor when he helped her into her room.
Then he closed the door behind him, securing them both within.
Alone.
And then he finally spoke.
“Ye’re really terrible at cards, Ariana.”
Resentment flared hot in her cheeks. “I’m better than you give me credit for.”
He put up a single finger. She bit back her sharp reply, which was probably for the best, and crossed her arms, as if doing so might protect her from what he had to say.
“I saw the pile of yer winnings. It isna any wonder ye were caught.” His jaw tightened and a line of sinewy muscle appeared on either side of his face. “First ye poison me, and then ye risk yer own freedom in an attempt to get a noticeable sum with which to escape.”
His searching gaze sought to strip away her defenses, but she held fast to them. She tightened her arms over her chest, though it provided no more of a barrier.
“Ye’re so desperate to leave.” The edge in his gaze softened. “Why?”
Her cheeks blazed. There was more to her wanting to leave than simple rejection.
She knew he desired her. It was evidenced in his suggestion to continue to see one another in private at Kindrochit. And in the kiss he’d pressed to her lips at the ball.
The issue was love.
Or rather, its absence.
It was the lack of reciprocation of her affection and how truly painful a burden it was to bear.
The answer stuck in her throat and made her heart ache.
She shook her head rather than reply.
He backed away and leaned against the narrow wall near the door. But he did not leave.
His finger tapped on his arm, not in agitation, but in more of a pensive manner—or so it seemed.
Regardless, Ariana should not care. She went to her meager belongings to pack what she would need.
It would have been a larger set of provisions had she possessed more than the four meager coins in her pocket.
“Prove yerself to me,” Connor said suddenly.
Ariana turned back toward him. “What?”
“Ye said ye’re a good card player. Prove it and play with me. I want to see if ye win.” He tilted his head as if daring her to accept his challenge.
Ariana felt the corner of her lip slide upward. He knew her well enough to understand her refusal of such a challenge would be almost impossible. “You’ll let me take all your coin?”
He smirked. “It isna money I want.”
“Then what is it you want?” Her breath quickened.
“If ye win, then ye can leave and I willna do a thing to stop ye.”
And so his motive was suddenly clear. She eyed him warily. “A
nd if you win? I have to stay?”
“Then ye explain to me the full reason why ye’re leaving. I know ye’re upset with me for asking ye to keep us a secret when we got to Kindrochit. But there is more to it than that. I can see it on yer face and I can feel it between us. Ye used to talk to me about everything. I want ye to talk to me about this.” He sighed. “It’s the only way I feel like I can get ye to speak with me.”
He wanted her to confess her heart. She’d rather play for coin. But then if she won, she would be able to leave without worry he or the other girls would try to find her.
Her heart squeezed at the idea of one of the girls coming for her. She cared for them all so much more than she had realized she’d allowed herself to.
“And I get to kiss ye goodbye.” He dipped his head to the side as if he didn’t care one way or the other. Obviously he did, if he had made it part of the bet.
It was too easy.
“What else?” she asked.
Connor shook his head with a smile tucked poorly behind an indifferent facade.
She raised her eyebrow, and he grinned. “Ye canna cheat.”
• • •
Connor knew Ariana wouldn’t like his stipulation.
She wrinkled her nose. “You know I can’t play well if I don’t cheat.” She put her hands on her hips, which only served to accentuate the narrowness of her slender waist in the fine green gown she still wore.
“Aye, if ye dinna get caught,” he added playfully.
Ariana’s mouth fell open in mock offense and he grinned before he could stop it.
He’d once cherished their banter, the comfort of their conversation. Having it back, even this one brief flash, made him understand how very much he’d missed it.
“Fine,” Ariana conceded with a wry twist of her mouth. “But what will we use for chips? I haven’t even coin to hold an entire game.” She tossed four coins onto the bed where they landed soundless on the soft surface.
He smirked. She had more than that, but she obviously did not want him to know.
Clothing.
The idea rose in his mind without hesitation. Nothing would make her decide to finally at least be honest with him about the coin she carried like using clothing instead. Not that he needed to see her coin, but damn it, he just wanted some kind of truth from her.
Ariana regarded him with a dubious expression. “What?”
He shook his head, refusing to answer.
“Then why are you staring at me like that?” She gave his chest an accusatory poke.
Was he making a face?
“Like what?” he asked.
“Like a boy with a frog in his hands.”
He let his gaze slide to the other side of the room where her two small packs lay ready for her departure.
“Clothing.” His voice had a slightly choked sound to it. He cleared his throat and tried again. “We could use our clothing as chips.”
She raised one highly arched brow sardonically. “Are you sure you want only a kiss if you win?”
He held up his hands in silent surrender. “I’ll only take what ye willingly give.”
She approached the small table on the opposite wall and withdrew a card deck from her bag. She stared at her bag for a long moment before finally standing. With her back settled against the wall, she sifted through the cards with careful consideration.
“Very well, I’m in.” Her cheeks went pink. “Clothing as chips.”
So she would not trust him with even the coin she carried. It was a blow to his ego. Connor took a place at the opposite side of the table, his own back pressed against the same solid wall as hers. She dealt with nimble fingers and cast a glance up at him before she took her stack of cards from the table.
“I’ll be watching ye,” he said.
She fanned out her cards in front of her face, so only her eyes were visible. “Oh, I know.”
He held his own cards close to him and fought to keep his face impassive when she showed her first hand. A pair of kings.
A good hand, except he had three queens. Ariana gave him a calculating look from over the rickety table before she suddenly dropped about two inches lower.
From the base of her voluminous skirt came the tip of a plain looking brown shoe.
The foot nudging it forward was slender and clad in a white silk stocking he’d love to glide his hands up.
Never had a scuffed brown shoe held such appeal.
He wanted to see the next.
And he did. Hand by hand, he stripped away her other shoe and the clip in her hair, which made her tresses swirl free like a silken curtain twisted and released.
She really was truly horrible at cards when she didn’t cheat.
Finally she gave a broad smile when he laid down a pair of threes he’d been bluffing on. Her hands fanned the cards over the stained table, revealing five cards of the same suit.
She held out her hand. “I’ll be taking your shoe now.”
“That isna fair when ye’ve lost so much already.” He grasped the bottom of his léine and tugged it upward over his head.
When he freed his face from the length of linen, he found her mouth partially open and her cheeks a bonny flushed red. He handed her the wadded up fabric.
He gathered the cards and placed those in her hand as well. “Yer deal.”
She licked her lips and let his shirt fall to the floor before shuffling the cards once more. Though he knew she would never admit to it, her gaze continually wandered toward his naked chest.
He had to concede, he felt a bit foolish in his plaid and boots. But with the way she kept staring at him, he wasn’t about to change one damn thing.
In the two rounds of cards he had swapped out, she had only traded her cards once. Showing her hand later had proved what a mistake that had been on her part. She had absolutely nothing and hadn’t even tried to pretend otherwise.
“Distracted?” he teased.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she countered.
He laid out his two pairs. “Looks like I won.”
Her mouth curled up. “It would appear you have.”
She turned her back toward him where a complex series of ribbons secured the bodice of her gown. “If you’d be so kind.”
“By all means.” He came around the small table and grasped a silky bit of ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. The bow slipped free silently.
Row after criss-crossed row, he slid the ribbon free from the bodice until it sagged forward and Ariana was able to easily step out of the pool of green silk.
Her sark hung off her shoulders, leaving them bare, and her corset pushed her breasts up high and round on her chest.
She had lovely shoulders.
Perhaps it was an odd thing to note when her breasts and arse were so finely made as well, but her bare shoulders had the most delicate curve where they met her neck. He wanted to press his lips there, to where the skin would be warm and soft.
“Don’t forget your cards.” She nodded toward the table where a neatly dealt stack of cards rested in front of him.
When had she done that?
She put a hand on her hip and tilted her head. “Distracted?”
He nodded in consent. “Aye. Consider yerself flattered.”
Distracted though he might have been, he played with the determination of a man about to lose everything.
And to him, he was.
Ariana brought a part of him alive he’d long since thought dead. She saw in him a goodness he never allowed himself to dare hope he possessed. He thought he was long since past meaning anything, having anything—but she’d seen through his fractured exterior and found the man beneath.
He’d be damned if he let her slip through his fingers.
And if he could convince her to open up about being angry at him, if he could just have a chance to get her to show any kind of emotion, perhaps he might be able to convince her to stay. He wouldn’t give up until she was gone, damn it.
&nbs
p; Aye, she’d been teasing and playful at their card game, but it was a facade he saw through. There was other emotion underneath, the kind that made her hard and apathetic.
He needed her to rage at him, to tell him what she’d locked up so deeply.
And if he failed at the endeavor, he’d at least get one last kiss.
Win after careful win, Connor found himself having to concentrate more with each article of clothing she removed.
The loss of her overskirts revealed the shadow of her slender, shapely legs beneath her sark when the firelight hit her just right. The loss of her corset and how it revealed the tips of her hardened nipples pointed against the thin white fabric.
Each piece revealed more and stirred deep memories of the night he’d finally had her.
Thus far he’d still only lost his léine.
Ariana took the stack of cards in her hand in preparation to shuffle them once more. But Connor couldn’t let her go further. It was one thing to reduce a lass to her sark, and though he longed for the hem to slip upward and reveal her body one tantalizing inch at a time to him, it was quite another to reduce a lass to nudity.
“I think we’ve gone far enough,” he said.
Ariana quirked a brow. “But you haven’t fully won.”
Connor lifted a plaid from where it laid over her bags and wrapped it around her shoulders. She pinched the fabric over her breasts and gave him a questioning look. “No’ that the idea of ye naked isna a tempting one, because it verra much is, ye know what I want.”
Ariana’s playful gaze faded to something altogether more serious. “I do.” She nodded.
“Then tell me.” He tried to speak softly, as if doing so could offer further encouragement to her. “Tell me why ye want to leave.”
Her jaw set with defiance.
“We had a deal,” he reminded her.
All pretense of flirtation slipped away into an iced-over countenance. The Ariana he was beginning to grow used to.
And that wasn’t what he wanted.
“Ye have to tell me.” He was goading, and it was entirely intentional. “Ye promised ye would and I did beat ye.”
Irritation sparked in her eyes and the cold look flamed into one of anger.
Victory flickered to life inside him.
Highland Spy Page 27