Highland Spy

by Madeline Martin

  Connor had been nothing more than the king’s tool. He’d known this those last few years, but he hadn’t known of the king’s role in his father’s death. Now the knowledge, both old and new, crashed together in a whirl of madness in his soul.

  Without thinking, he swept his blade from the scabbard.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” An arrogant smile jerked the corners of King James’s mouth upward. He nodded toward the back of the room.

  Connor glanced behind him and found the room filling with the king’s soldiers.

  “Get back,” Ariana cried out in a confident voice. She lifted her arms over her head, but nothing happened.

  There was a moment’s pause, in which Ariana remained as she was, obviously waiting for her “power” to lash out.

  “You don’t want my wrath.” She didn’t look at him when she gave the warning. He knew she wouldn’t. It would betray them all.

  Out of the corner of Connor’s eye he saw a splash of red and yellow along an alcove at the side. A soldier had his arm locked around Isabel with a blade pressed to her throat. Then, like a nightmare, Sylvi materialized from the shadows.

  Without hesitation, she pulled a pistol from her waist, took aim, and fired at the soldier holding Isabel.

  A cloud of smoke exploded in the small area between the three of them and Connor’s heart stopped for a brief moment.

  Pistols were notoriously inaccurate. It was why he never bothered with them. He didn’t know where the hell she’d gotten it or even had learned to shoot it, but he hoped to God she’d hit the soldier.

  And not Isabel.

  Shouts rang out at the front of the great hall and tugged Connor’s attention from the scene with Sylvi to the great group of soldiers rushing toward him and Ariana.

  Their eyes were wide with fear and they ran with the force of a startled herd.

  Connor raced in front of Ariana to take the brunt of their attack. All she had was the meager dagger. He pulled the dirk from his boot and gave it to her. At least two small blades were better than one. And Ariana had always been good with the small weapons.

  Red swelled around them in a rising tide of soldiers, interrupted only by the slender blades of their swords. Several lunged at him, but he was able to easily deflect their blows. Metal rang against metal behind him and he knew Ariana was doing the same.

  His body operated in smooth, calculated motions, falling back on the lessons he’d honed since his youth, when he fought with his father.

  Energy fired through him.

  His da.

  The Shadow of the Highlands.

  This fight was for him, to avenge his wrongful death.

  Connor knocked a soldier aside and thrust his blade into another behind him. He pulled it free only to face yet another.

  Suddenly Liv was beside him, and Sylvi, and even Percy. The women had fought their way to the center of the men and now Connor stood back to back with the women of Kindrochit.

  Sunlight streamed in through the windows and bathed the room in a golden glow, and the blood glinted around them like rubies.

  Duck.

  Lunge.

  Attack.

  Everything reactive and automatic.

  But for every soldier in a red coat and yellow feathers who fell, there was another to take his place.

  There were so many of them.

  So damn many.

  Something on the hill outside the window pulled Connor’s attention momentarily from battle. Horses. Scores of horses riding over the hill like they were being chased by the very devil himself.

  Connor’s heart tumbled into his stomach.

  No matter how valiantly he and his girls fought, they could not survive another round of soldiers.

  If they even survived the first.

  Connor turned his gaze from the window and resolved not to look back again. The idea of more soldiers was too crushing.

  He shoved the thought from his head and lost himself to the steady rhythm of battle instead.

  Duck.

  Lunge.

  Attack.

  The doorway became crowded with men and a riotous shouting roared above the sound of battle.

  English soldiers did not roar.

  Connor allowed himself to look up at the curtain of men sweeping through the room and almost cried out in relief.

  Not a single man wore red.

  No, they all wore either kilts or trews.

  Scotsmen.

  They descended upon the soldiers with a ferocity the men could not fend off, and the battle, which surely would have dragged on painfully long, was over in minutes.

  When all the men had gone still, Connor let his arm fall in limp exhaustion, as did the women around him. He turned to them and found each one still standing—with a few scratches and cuts, but standing nonetheless.

  “I’m so verra proud of the lot of ye.” He grinned at them and stared at each one in turn before finally letting his gaze fall on Ariana.

  There was a cut on her cheek, where a couple drops of blood had chased one another down to her jaw, and a red circle of blood showed on the upper arm of her sleeve. But she was alive.

  And she was safe.

  “Connor.” A male voice boomed through the great hall before Connor could speak to Ariana, before he could even pull her into his arms.

  He surveyed the crush of those standing and those fallen until he saw who had spoken. A tall man with dark hair and a far too familiar face.

  Kenneth Gordon.

  It was Kenneth who had come to his rescue.

  “I believe ye might want to see this,” Kenneth said, nodding to where Connor had built a false wall in the large, open room.

  Connor approached, and found Delilah with King James’s neck locked in the crook of her elbow. A blade glinted at his neck.

  “Now’s yer chance,” Kenneth said, nodding toward the king. “For freedom.”

  Chapter 40

  “I dinna want to kill him.” Connor didn’t take his eyes off where Delilah held the king trapped with her elbow and her blade. “But I do want my freedom.”

  “Granted,” the king said readily. His hat had disappeared and a tuft of his auburn hair jutted up on the side. “I’ll give you Urquhart back and release you of your debt to me.”

  “My debt to ye?” Connor spit. “The debt ye led me to believe I owed.” He pulled in a long, slow breath for patience. “I can still kill ye.”

  “It’d cause a war,” King James said with a snide grin.

  “Aye,” Connor conceded. “One many Highlanders would want and one ye wouldna care about because ye’d be dead.”

  The king shrank back against Delilah, who removed her blade and pushed him away from her. But it wasn’t Connor’s words which frightened the king. It was Ariana.

  She had appeared beside Connor, as if she could not stay away. And truly he was grateful, for he wanted her by his side, not just in this moment of victory, but for the rest of his life.

  “If you ever try to hurt Connor,” Ariana said in a threatening tone, “I’ll find you, and I will kill you.”

  “And if ye ever try to accuse her of witchcraft, I’ll kill ye myself.” Connor stared hard at the king. “It doesna matter what shadow ye hide under, how many guards ye have protecting ye or how safe ye think ye are. I’ll always find ye.”

  The king’s face paled and the line of his mouth almost disappeared from view.

  “And if ye try to harm either one of them,” Kenneth said, “ye’ll have a war on yer hands between the Highlands and England. And I dinna think yer men would stand a chance against Highlanders.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the fallen English soldiers. “The Grants have the protection of the Gordons and all our allies as well.”

  Connor turned to Kenneth and gave him a grateful nod. “Thank ye.”

  Kenneth lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Our clans are united now.” He raised his brows at Connor. “Through marriage.”

  Cora.

&nb
sp; A brotherly kick of protection slammed into Connor.

  Kenneth must have expected Connor’s reaction, because he put up his hand and spoke in a calm voice. “She came to me.” He turned toward the entrance of the great hall and nodded. Cora strode out from around the corner. She wore a fine arisaid with a kerchief atop her brown hair.

  His sister, a wife.

  Connor drew in a breath at the sight. He beckoned her closer and she obeyed, marching forward with her back straight and proud.

  Smudges of exhaustion showed dark under her eyes, and the closer she got, the more uncertain her steps grew, until she was directly in front of him.

  “Are ye verra upset with me, brother?” she asked solemnly.

  There was much Connor wanted to say—how dangerous her decision had been, how she shouldn’t marry a man she didn’t know, how people change over time.

  But then Kenneth slipped his hand into Cora’s where it hung at her side. Their fingers entwined. She glanced back at him and he smiled in a way Connor had only seen when they were lads.

  Connor gazed down at Ariana and she tilted her head in understanding. He wanted to cradle her beautiful face in his hands and kiss her senseless.

  He turned back to Cora. “Are ye verra happy with him, sister?”

  Her eyes twinkled, and it carried away all signs of exhaustion from her face. “I wouldna have ridden like the devil to him otherwise. And I wouldna have ridden back just as hard to explain it to ye.” She shook her head. “I know how ye are. Ye’d assume he kidnapped me and work out some way to rescue me when I dinna need rescuing.”

  Arguing was useless and so Connor merely chuckled. “Then I’m happy for ye, Cora.” He glanced behind his sister, at Kenneth. “And ye too. But I’ll warn ye, ye’ve got yer work cut out for ye with this one.”

  Connor regarded the king where he’d stood watching the exchange with a look of frightened self-interest. “Take yer men, go back to England, and leave me be, or ye know what will happen.”

  The king nodded.

  “Go on then.” Connor jerked his head toward the door and the king all but slithered away, his battered men crawling behind him.

  And, finally, Connor was free.

  • • •

  Ariana opened the door to the study to find Connor in his usual place before the large fire. The sun had long since set and the chaos of the day was finally going quiet.

  “You asked to see me?” she said.

  Connor turned and looked at her. It was the first time they’d been alone since the attack and the moment hung between them like the final note of a dance.

  “Ariana.” He closed the distance between them and caught her in his arms. His mouth was on hers in an instant, insistent and ravenous and filled with all the love she had longed for. “I thought I’d lost ye.”

  “You know I’m too stubborn to die that easily,” she said between kisses.

  He lifted her and spun her around with a warm laugh.

  “Oh, Connor,” she breathed. “You have everything you’ve ever wanted. I’m so happy for you.”

  He shook his head. “I dinna have everything I want.”

  “What do you not have?”

  “My wife to give me a wee babe to whom I can pass on my da’s legacy.”

  A sudden moment of fear gripped her heart. “Your wife?”

  “Aye.” Connor took her hand in his and gently caressed her knuckles with his thumb. “I dinna have one of those either. I’d like her to be ye.”

  Her relief came out of her in a laugh.

  “Are you asking me to marry you, Connor Grant?” Her tone was light and teasing.

  “Aye, I am.” He stroked a hand down her uninjured cheek. “I canna imagine bringing joy back to Urquhart without the verra person who makes me the happiest.”

  Her heart welled with such love as she had never known to the point it felt near bursting. “I can’t say yes if you don’t ask me.”

  Connor sank reverently to his knees in front of her and clasped both her hands in his. “Ye always saw so much more of me than the man mired down by the weight of his own sins and ye brought happiness to a life I thought I could no’ ever enjoy. I love ye, Ariana, and I’d be humbly honored if ye’d agree to become no’ just my wife, but also the lady of Urquhart Castle.”

  “Then I’d be humbly honored to say yes.” She pulled at his hands, urging him to his feet.

  He pulled her to him and stared down at her. “I’ve been longing to hold ye in my arms all day.”

  A tingle pulsed between her thighs. She knew exactly what he meant. The heart-pounding battle, the fear of loss, the indescribable desire—it all shot into her blood.

  Before she could reply in kind, his mouth came down on hers and he pulled her body against his. Together they had fought the battle. Together they had won. Together they would celebrate their love.

  For they belonged together—mind, body, heart, and soul.

  Epilogue

  May 1606

  The sun rose near Urquhart Castle, emerging from the water in a golden globe of light. Its warmth settled against the hills and bobbed atop the water like floating bits of cut gemstone.

  Ariana rested a hand atop the large crenellation of the castle wall and closed her eyes to the subtle breeze stirring her hair and gown.

  The weather had been soft lately, almost as if gently welcoming the changes to her life.

  “There’s my beautiful wife.” Connor’s voice broke through her thoughts. She opened her eyes and found him standing beside her, tall and breathtakingly handsome in his saffron-colored léine and the fine plaid belted around his waist.

  A gold pin shone at his shoulder, where the length of plaid had been pinned into place.

  He looked every bit the laird of the castle.

  “I’m glad ye’re awake, lass. I’ve got a surprise for ye.” He put his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her lips. His mouth was cold from having just recently shaved.

  “I’ve one for you too.” She couldn’t help the smile of sheer joy on her lips and gave in to the temptation to stroke her fingertips over his smooth jaw.

  He caught her hand and pressed a sweet kiss to her palm. “Mine first. Come downstairs.”

  Their fingers twined together, pleasantly warm where their skin touched, and together they made their way down the stone staircase along the curtain wall.

  A lot had changed at Urquhart since Connor had resumed his role as laird. Not just the castle, but the land itself. All memories of what had gone wrong were swept away by what was right. The people had come back, slowly at first, and then so quickly they’d almost run out of bedding.

  Only one year and already the scar on Urquhart had faded, as all great scars do, from flesh to heart—never forgotten, but not so painfully obvious either. They were all stronger for having suffered and survived.

  The Grant clan lived their lives fully and with the appreciation of people who knew how easily it could all be lost.

  Near the stable stood three travelers with cloaks thrown about their shoulders and a pile of sacks at their feet. One with white-blonde hair strewn back in braids, one with loose curls the color of summer wheat, and another with tresses of gleaming copper.

  Ariana’s breath caught in her throat. “Is it—?”

  Connor grinned. “Here she is, girls.”

  The trio turned around and confirmed what Ariana thought she’d seen. Delilah, Sylvi, and Liv.

  At Urquhart.

  Ariana embraced each woman with great affection. Delilah in her pretty velvet riding habit, Sylvi in the men’s clothing she often preferred when traveling, the collar raised high to cover her neck, and Liv.

  Ariana’s eyes tingled with tears when she saw Liv. She was beautifully vibrant with her red-gold hair and eyes the same gray of a gentle summer storm. Her cheeks were rosy with good health and a smile shone on her lips like the sun.

  While Ariana had wanted to see Percy and Isabel as well, she knew they would most likely not
leave Kindrochit.

  A sleek gray cat snaked between Ariana’s ankles. She looked down and gasped. “Surely this isn’t Fianna.”

  “It is.” Liv grinned and lifted the cat into her arms. Fianna contently allowed herself to be cradled like an infant, the hum of her purr evident even from where Ariana stood.

  “We’re heading back to Kindrochit,” Sylvi said. “And happened to be in the area.”

  Her voice had taken on a level of authority and reminded Ariana very much of Connor.

  Not long ago, he’d told her Sylvi had begun her own private spy ring for nobles who could afford their fee.

  Where once they had all been trapped, they now knew freedom.

  “Are your endeavors going as planned?” Ariana asked benignly. Truth be told, what Connor had told her left her terribly curious. She’d wanted to press them for information, but knew doing so would be dangerous in the open.

  “Very well.” Sylvi gave a cocky, lopsided grin. “Maybe while we’re here, we can get in a sparring session? No one can beat me anymore.”

  “Aye, I think I may take ye up that.” Connor put an arm around Ariana’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “How about ye, Lady Grant?”

  Ariana ducked her head to hide her smile. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  Connor studied her a moment, his brow furrowed. She let the silence hang for a delicate moment before adding, “It might hurt the baby.”

  His eyes went wide, and then a large grin spread over his lips. “Are ye—do ye mean—is that—”

  “Yes,” Ariana said with a laugh. Never had she seen her confident husband trip over his tongue before.

  He stared in awe at her flat stomach.

  Liv’s arms wrapped around Ariana in a sweet embrace. “I know you’ll care for that child for both of us,” she whispered. A quiet note only for Ariana to hear, for only Ariana would understand.

  Delilah gave an excited little clap and Sylvi gave a nod of approval.

  Connor, however, was still staring at her.

  “Are you happy, husband?” she asked.

  “I’m going to be a da,” he said in a soft, wondrous tone.

  “Yes,” Ariana said. “A wonderful one.”