Page 103 of Highland Spy

“I dinna heal the way ye think I do. We are no’ a house for lost women.” He shook his head. “Ye see the world differently—”

“She has information on the king. And if Kenneth Gordon was involved with MacAlister, she would know that too,” Ariana added.

Connor’s eyes narrowed.

“You can decide what to do with whatever information she gives you.” Ariana hoped she was right, that Isabel did have information on Kenneth. “And once you have the information you need, you can decide if Kenneth truly needs to be killed.”

Chapter 25

Connor hoped like hell his decision to bring Isabel to Kindrochit would not be one he regretted.

Where their travel to Urquhart had been long, the trek back would be difficult, and the thought of it sat in his gut like a stone.

Their first day saw them cover only a fraction of the distance they had previously. He hadn’t been able to locate an inn, but they had found an abandoned hut without too many leaks in its thatched roof.

While there hadn’t been wood inside to burn in the small hearth, there were several slabs of peat. Enough to keep them warm through the night. It smoldered now in front of them where they sat on the floor, the gray-white smoke spiraling upward and its thick scent permeating the room.

Isabel put a crooked forefinger under her nose and blinked. “That’s rather pungent.”

“Have ye no’ smelled peat burning before?” he asked with a dull note of incredulity.

Peat was often burned for warmth and cooking—not just during the winter, but year round. Its scent reminded him of being a boy and going through the village with his father.

“I’ve smelled it before.” Isabel’s eyes squinted in exaggeration to the smoke. “Just not so close.”

Connor shrugged. “It’s warm.”

Ariana sat silent beside him with her hands held toward the fire, palms out.

The subtle light played over her face and reminded him of how impossibly soft her skin had been. The urge to stroke her cheek made his fingers twitch with longing. He wanted to kiss her cool flesh warm and tease moans from her lush mouth. He wanted to have their usual, easy conversation and hear the beautiful sound of her laughter.

“Are ye looking forward to being back at Kindrochit?” Connor asked.

Her gaze slid toward Isabel and she gave an uncertain smile. “Yes.”

A simple, singular answer. Disappointment threaded through Connor.

Isabel’s presence had lodged a cold, uncomfortable wedge between them. Awkwardness seemed to cling to every move, knowing they were being seen, and to every word, knowing they were being overheard.

As they had only two horses, Isabel had ridden with him, as his horse was meant for heavy warriors and heavy gear. Ariana’s small palfrey would have gone even slower with two women atop it. As a result, Connor’s back ached like a knot being drawn tight. He stretched in front of the hissing fire and his back gave a deep, gratifying pop in several places.

“We’ll see about getting ye yer own horse tomorrow.” He nodded toward Isabel before reaching for the small bag of food. Tomorrow they would venture through a town and all could be replenished.

He handed a roll and chunk of cheese to each woman.

Isabel took it with some hesitation. “Is there no meat for a stew?”

Annoyance prickled along the back of Connor’s neck, and he had to remind himself for the hundredth time that Isabel was a noblewoman. She’d been raised in court and had known only luxury.

“When we arrive back at Kindrochit, aye, there will be many stews and freshly baked bread. But for now, this is what we have.”

He lowered himself to the floor between the women once more and bit into his own roll. It was hard and cold and squeaked against his back teeth when he chewed. Not that he minded. It would soothe the angry hunger in his stomach and allow him to get by until morning, when he’d dispense the last of the rolls, which would be all the harder.

He decided not to divulge that bit of information to the noblewoman.

“You’re the king’s cousin,” Ariana said suddenly. “How?”

Isabel stared at her for a moment. “I’m a bastard. My father is Charles Stuart and my mother was the daughter of advantageous nobodies who landed their pretty girl in an earl’s bed.” She gave a bitter smile. “I’m not precious enough to fear stealing the crown, but royal enough to be an encouraging proposition for marriage negotiations.”