Page 102 of Highland Spy

Ariana imagined him, younger, burdened with sorrow, ready to reclaim his inheritance once more. “Did you refuse?”

“Aye, of course I did. But it was then the king informed me he’d assumed ownership of the property to minimize the chance of war in the Highlands.”

He sighed and looked down at his hands, which were braced against the hard counter. Dust had smeared over his palms in a pale, chalky coating where they met the stone. “The king told me if I agreed to be his personal assassin for ten years, he’d give me Urquhart. And if not, he’d find Cora.”

The muscles clenched at the sides of his jaw.

Ariana moved toward him, but he put up his hands to stop her.

“Nay.” His voice was a low, threatening whisper. “Ye dinna know the things I’ve done. The life I’ve led. The sins I’ve had to commit.”

Everything in her pulled at her to go to him, to wrap her arms about him and let his pain bleed into her so he would not suffer so much alone.

But he did not want her—he’d made that much clear.

“How?” she asked.

“I get names from the king on a bit of parchment I burn after reading them. This time there were two names.” His gaze was distant when he shook his head. “There’s never been two names.”

Ariana drew the cold air into her chest, but it seemed too thin to breathe. “MacAlister,” she guessed.

“Aye.” Connor still didn’t look at her. His haunted expression shot through her heart and left it chilled. “And another man, Kenneth Gordon.”

“Gordon?”

“Laird Gordon’s son.” Connor pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyes as if it hurt to see. “He was as a brother to me. He killed for me once, at the battle of Glenlivet. We were on opposing sides and both new to battle. I slipped—” He gave a thick swallow. “I slipped and he was there, killing the man, his own brethren, who sought to kill me.”

She said nothing, too afraid to speak lest he stop. His pain was evident in the hoarseness of his voice, how he pinched at his eyes.

“I trusted him,” Connor continued. “But the day Urquhart was attacked, the bastard laid hands on Cora. I found them kissing. We fought and I landed a punch. I took Cora and left. But he knew. He knew and he never told us.”

Connor wrenched his hand from his eyes and stared at her, his gaze hard. “I trusted him.” His words were said so loudly they rang out against the stone wall and made Ariana jump.

His vehemence echoed around them for a brief moment before she could quiet her frantic nerves. Never had she seen Connor so agitated. It tore at her heart to know his pain, and to finally understand his plight.

What would she do in such a situation?

What would anyone do?

Exactly as he had done.

“And now you’re torn because you know you should kill him,” she said, moving closer. “You know you should hate him.”

He stared up at her with a wounded wariness most would know to avoid. But she kept moving forward, her hand extended toward him.

“But you can’t,” she said finally. She touched a hand to his back and the tension of his shoulders melted with a defeated sag.

Her arms came around him and she held the strongest man she had ever known, understanding the hurt plaguing him more than he could possibly know.

Or perhaps he did know. Silence wrapped around them for a long moment, settling comfortably between them.

“Isabel has been hurt too, Connor.” She spoke softly and in soothing tones. “She’s been wronged. You can help make it right.”

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, a low, menacing growl.

Connor straightened and looked down at Ariana, his eyes seeking something in hers. “Ye want me to bring Isabel to Kindrochit, to let her become one of us.”

She nodded. “It’s what’s right, Connor. We have to help her.” Her hand found his and she gripped his hard, callused fingers. “She’s broken, too.”