Highland Spy Page 8

  “Why?” Ariana whispered to keep her voice from carrying through the pitted stone walls of the hall.

  Delilah’s eyes went wide, making them appear all the more like a fawn’s—overlarge, deep brown, and fringed with thick black lashes. “It’s horrible, Ariana. Her entire family was killed. The men who killed them tried to kill her too, they slit her throat, but they must not have gone deep enough. She heard and saw everything.”

  The horror of it flashed through Ariana’s mind, staining her thoughts with an image she didn’t want to see. An image she could not imagine ever witnessing. Even though she hadn’t had a strong connection to her family, the idea of seeing them murdered in front of her and being unable to help them—it was too much.

  Her stomach twisted at the very idea.

  It all made sense now.

  The way Sylvi had acted at practice and her drive to kill. She wanted vengeance.

  And somehow Connor had already had his.

  By the time they arrived in Connor’s solar, Sylvi was already there, standing by the fire with her arms crossed over her chest. The black ribbon gleamed, reflecting the firelight.

  It made sense now too, the ribbon, and what she now knew for certain what it covered.

  A scar.

  A reminder.

  Ariana’s heart squeezed in empathy.

  Connor stood on the other end of the hearth in a mirror image of serious contemplation. He didn’t speak until the door was closed.

  “We need to go out and gather some information.” There was a heaviness to his tone Ariana hadn’t heard before. “We’re looking for a man named Angus MacAlister and his retinue. There are several nearby towns where he could be.”

  “Is there any information we need to listen for specifically?” Delilah asked.

  The muscle in Connor’s jaw flexed. “Aye, if ye hear anything about a lass in a nunnery being wed. And, of course, the usual treasonous activity. The man moves fast. We’ll need to head out tonight.”

  He nodded toward Delilah. “Ye go with Sylvi to the east toward Castleton, I’ll take the west toward Auchendryne.”

  Ariana waited for her orders, but they did not come. Suddenly she felt like an outsider standing in a conversation not meant for her ears.

  “And what of me?” she asked.

  Connor’s gaze flicked over at her. “Ye’re no’ coming.”

  Indignation jerked her back ramrod straight. “I’ve been training for two months now. I can do this.”

  Delilah stepped forward. “She can. And you know I wouldn’t speak up if I didn’t believe it.”

  Connor’s forefinger tapped against his bicep where his arms were folded. He was quiet for a long moment. “Verra well, but ye come with me so I can keep an eye on ye, and if ye slow me down, I’ll send ye back.”

  Ariana’s heart tamped out an erratic beat and her cheeks went hot with excitement.

  She was going on a mission.

  “Of course,” Ariana replied with measured calm.

  He stared at her a moment more and his finger tapped a few more times. “We’ll do taverns tonight. Get some food in ye and ready yerselves. We leave within the hour.”

  Chapter 9

  Ariana and Connor stepped into what appeared to be the middle of a dark forest.

  Connor led the horses to a crude stable, secured them, and closed the door. “We’ll have a ways to walk, but at least we willna have to worry about the horses.”

  Whether he’d built the stable after years of coming to the small town or had happened upon it at some point, Ariana did not know, and it seemed a pointless thing to ask.

  She pulled the velvet drawstring bag from her pocket and let her fingers sift through the lumps of the three vials within, all from Percy.

  The shortest one for masking the color of her eyes, the long, slender one for making a man appear more drunk than he was, and a round stoppered one if she found herself in a situation she could not escape.

  She had been warned enough times about the last one to make her hesitant to even touch it.

  Careful not to loosen her blonde wig, Ariana leaned her head back and poured a drop or two from the shortest vial into her eyes.

  The liquid stung slightly and her eyes welled with tears. She blinked until the sensation ceased. A heaviness warmed over her vision.

  Connor secured a ragged coat atop a pair of trews and a stained léine. His hair was mussed and somehow he’d managed to black out a front bottom tooth.

  The effect was startling. Never would she have recognized him.

  “Do I appear as different as you?” she asked in Gaelic. He’d insisted on it since they left. For practice, he’d said.

  Fortunately for her, she’d picked up the difficult language with ease. Her parents’ attempts to match her to a wealthy man had included rigorous lessons. She’d had to learn several languages in anticipation of the husband who never came.

  Connor looked down at her, studying her face.

  Delilah had taken care to line her eyes with kohl and put a smear of carmine on her lips and cheeks. The way most wenches wore their faces at night, she’d said.

  “I’d no’ ever recognize ye in a thousand years,” he said.

  She nodded, relieved.

  She was even more relieved when her wig stayed locked in place despite the movement.

  “The town isna far.” He nodded to the west, where lights glowed through the trees. “When we get to the clearing, ye go first. We’ll be going to a tavern called the Lamb’s Tail Inn, aye? It’s the busiest in the area and it will be full.”

  Ariana’s pulse skipped and raced a little faster.

  This was it.

  “I remember,” she said.

  He smiled and rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “Ye’ll do fine, lass.”

  The affection took her aback, but before she could react, he’d already turned and begun walking through the wet forest. She followed suit and repeated in her mind what she was to do: Enter the Lamb’s Tail Inn and make her way through the crowd. Talk and flirt, but without intent, until Connor arrived and could point her in the right direction.

  It was an easy enough task.

  All too soon, Ariana found herself at the clearing and stepped out on her own. The weight of Connor’s gaze settled over her back like a sable mantle on a cold day.

  There was a slight tiredness to her eyes from the tincture she’d put in them, and the low lights from the taverns she passed seemed overly bright.

  Several men stared as she passed, openly and lewdly.

  Her breath came harder in her nervousness, but she forced it to slow.

  Men had never stared at her so. She had always been a lady and warranted respect, but she did not appear a lady now. Not with the carmine painting her lips or the way her cloak lay open to reveal the exceedingly low-cut bodice beneath.

  Several men loitered outside a dingy white building, leaning against the walls and several barrels set in the thick mud. The sign above the establishment indicated it was the Lamb’s Tail Inn.

  A bald man grinned at her. “Can I get ye somethin’ to slake yer thirst, lady?”

  She forced a little laugh and waved him off, answering back in Gaelic. “I haven’t even made it in yet.”

  His hard lean against the barrel did not indicate he’d be moving from it anytime soon. “Ach, maybe on yer way out then?”

  “Mayhap.” She spoke in a lowered voice, trying for a husky timbre. With a wink, she pushed through the door and was met with the heat and odor of at least a hundred bodies. Her breath clogged in her throat, and she fumbled with the clasp at her neck a moment before liberating the latch.

  Sweat prickled at her scalp beneath the wig. Where outside it had been so cool, inside was like standing near a blacksmith’s forge. She swept the cloak from her shoulders and slung it over a peg on the wall.

  The scent of stale beer was pungent in the thick, greasy air, but she forced herself further inside. Large wooden tables filled the room, and bo
dies crowded side by side upon the benches. With the barmaid navigating the narrow aisles, it would be almost impossible to move.

  Connor had been right. It was indeed busy.

  A woman with two pints in hand aggressively pushed her way between two men and threw a comment over her shoulder. They laughed and one swatted her on the bottom.

  Ariana followed suit and forced a path through the crowd.

  A hand caught at her arm. “I’ve always liked a fair-haired lass.”

  She looked down to find an impossibly large man with black hair holding her. He gave her a friendly smile. “I havena seen ye here.”

  “I’m just passing through,” Ariana said in Gaelic.

  “Why dinna ye sit beside me?”

  She looked at the crowded bench. “There isn’t room.”

  He grasped the back of the man’s léine beside him and jerked him upright. Beer sprayed from the hapless man’s mouth and he staggered backward into the bench behind them.

  Laughter rose up from the nearby tables.

  “And now there is,” said the large man.

  “Aye, but only for a moment.” Ariana sank into the newly available spot.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched for the man who had been vacated from his seat. The men on the other bench made room for him and he slunk down into the narrow gap.

  A hand landed on her thigh.

  Her upper thigh.

  She jerked her attention to the large man and found him staring intently at her. “Ye’re a bonny lass.” He grinned beneath his full beard. “And I’d like ye for more than a moment.”

  A little warning tapped at the back of her mind and suddenly she found herself grateful for all the training she’d done with Delilah. No matter how powerful this man before her was, her skills at manipulation were stronger.

  The door opened and in walked a beggar with shaggy hair and one missing tooth.

  No one noticed his arrival.

  No one but Ariana.

  Yes, it was good she knew how to pry herself from this man.

  Something told her she’d need to do it soon.

  • • •

  It was almost impossible not to stare at Ariana.

  Connor navigated the narrow aisle between the benches, the backs on either side so close they brushed his body as he passed.

  Despite how often he tried to force his gaze to those he passed, he found it repeatedly returning to Ariana.

  Not that it mattered.

  He was hardly the only one.

  True, she’d worn the same low-cut gown as any other tavern wench did, and Delilah had covered Ariana’s natural beauty with smears of carmine and rice powder as they did, but she was not one of them.

  Her beauty shone like a candle in a dark room and her confidence burned even brighter.

  She was the kind of woman men couldn’t help but want.

  And it made something inside Connor want to fight every damn one of them.

  Conversations buzzed around him, and only then did he realize he hadn’t been paying attention to what was being said.

  He’d been too distracted.

  He gritted his back teeth.

  They’d be there all night if he didn’t focus, and the last thing he wanted was to keep Ariana in the ring of all these men.

  He skulked through the crowd, head lowered with a gait meant to suggest he’d already had a few pints of ale before his arrival. A man no one noticed despite his upturned hand in a show of begging coin. He shuffled his way down the long lines of tables, listening intently to every word spoken, sifting through what was useless and what held potential.

  “Aye, I hear she’s a fine one,” a man said on Connor’s right. “The kind of lass that shouldna be in a convent.”

  Connor moved closer and tried to listen when Ariana’s soft laughter sounded behind him.

  He turned, slight enough to be imperceptible, but enough to see the man’s hand resting on Ariana’s inner thigh.

  Rage heated Connor’s body, leaving him boiling beneath the thick cloak he wore. A cool coin pressed into his palm, pulling at his attention once more.

  “And why’s the lass in a convent?” asked another voice in the same conversation.

  “I think it’s her brother who’s put her there.”

  Connor’s heartbeat thundered in his ears.

  Ariana’s back was only several feet away. Her flimsy sleeve had slipped from its place and revealed the delicate curve of her shoulder, her flesh flawless and naked.

  He felt the sudden urge to trail the pad of his middle finger over the graceful line arching from her neck to her arm, but instead placed his hand fully upon her.

  The skin beneath his palm was warm and soft.

  “The men behind ye were generous.” He spoke in a cracking, aged voice. He knew Ariana would understand he meant for her to get information from them. “Would ye be so as well, lovely lass?”

  The large man beside Ariana grabbed Connor’s wrist and flung his hand from her. “Dinna touch her, ye filthy lout.”

  Connor measured the man in a quick glance: an overly sure beast who would be taken down easily.

  Ariana lay her hand in a graceful gesture on the man’s chest. “We must be kind to those less fortunate.” She rose from the bench and he stiffened.

  “Where are ye going?” he demanded.

  Ariana continued to rise. “To see if the other table will aid me in helping to buy a meal for this poor man, of course.”

  “If I kill him, he won’t need to eat.”

  Connor fought to suppress an eye roll at the arrogant show.

  The man’s hand wrapped around Ariana’s wrist and Connor’s body went tight, his muscles ready to spring into a fight. Connor knew men like the one holding Ariana now. They did as they wanted, they took what they wanted. They did not accept no as an answer.

  “Tut tut,” she admonished gently. “Surely you aren’t afraid I won’t come back.” Her tone was coy.

  She leaned toward the man’s ear and said a few words before easily extracting herself from his grip. She left with little more than a wink and received not a word of protest.

  Whatever the hell it was Delilah was teaching, she knew what she was doing.

  Ariana had no trouble finding a place among the men who’d been speaking of the nunnery, and within minutes, Connor was set against a rear table with a plate full of steaming food.

  Once more, she was magnificent, like she’d been at the card tables months ago. The men leaned toward her, like budding plants stretching toward the heat of the morning sun. But despite their eagerness, she kept herself at a distance with flirtatious reprimands and witty somethings that left the table all laughing at one red-faced man.

  A mug of ale settled before Connor. He tore his gaze from Ariana and found a barmaid standing beside him, her breasts sagging in her half-laced bodice like a tired sigh.

  “The barkeep thought ye’d want something to wash yer food down with.”

  Connor nodded his thanks and turned back to the table, mug halfway to his mouth.

  He stopped short of putting it to his lips, and his heart punched down into his stomach.

  One of the men from the table was missing, and so was Ariana.

  Chapter 10

  Ariana had never followed a man to his room before.

  The stocky form in front of her stumbled his way up the narrow flight of stairs to the row of rooms above. Already he swayed on his feet.

  Percy’s vial had worked quickly.

  “Are you well, Cuthbert?” Ariana asked innocently.

  He straightened. “Ach, aye.” His brows furrowed with a concentration his eyes could not seem to match.

  Perhaps she had given him too much from the slender vial. Percy hadn’t specified an amount.

  If nothing else, Ariana hoped he’d make it to the room and she wouldn’t have to guess which was his.

  He staggered toward a door with heavy feet and managed to unlock it in a series of bumps and
scraping shuffles. She followed him inside and the odor of stale rushes filled her nose. Still, it was a reprieve from the overwhelming stench of too many bodies below.

  Cuthbert hiccupped. “Join me on the bed.” His words were so slurred, Ariana had to pause a moment to even decipher them.

  She made a humming, acquiescent sound and closed the door.

  The thud of his body upon the small bed was followed by a deep, even snoring. She let the breath she’d been holding whoosh out. Perfect timing.

  Quick as she dared, she made her way to the simple table by the window and opened the shutter to allow the moonlight to cast its glow upon the papers there.

  A gust of wind swept in and she found herself gulping down a lungful of pure, delicious air. The rush of desperation racing through her veins calmed and she was once more able to focus.

  A snort from the bed lanced through the serenity and set Ariana’s heart pounding once more.

  She froze and looked back at him.

  He did not move.

  She fingered the outline of the round bottle in her skirt pocket, reassuring herself of its presence, even if she was not much inclined to put it to use.

  A sharp breeze swept in and brushed several papers to the floor. Ariana scooped them up and leaned over the desk, ever mindful to listen for a break in the even, sawing snores behind her.

  The heavy sensation in her eyes had not bothered her downstairs once she’d grown accustomed to the light. Now though, no matter how hard she squinted or craned her neck over the page, the slanting words blurred.

  She held the parchment farther away and could make out the larger of the letters.

  Land was evident on one, a name she did not recognize on another, marriage on yet another.

  Her heart beat a little faster.

  This was why she’d followed him up. The scribe snoring in the bed had bragged about drafting a marriage contract for the girl in the nunnery.

  Despite the ale consumed, they’d all been guarded in their speech. No names were mentioned.

  Ariana stretched her arm in front of her in an attempt to read the name and could make out nothing.

  Her fingers tensed on the parchment.

  She could take it. Read it later.