Page 126 of Highland Spy

He turned from the woman and made his way back to the small table where Ariana sat.

His gait was confident and a slight smile showed on his full lips. He sat down across from her. In front of the laced ale.

His sharp jaw was so smooth, her palm ached to brush it, and he’d put on a new léine and plaid—fine ones. She’d never seen him like this before, looking every bit the laird he should be.

Looking so very handsome and noble.

“It’ll be nice to have a good ale after three hard days’ travel,” he said with an earnest smile.

The guilt rose like bile in the back of her throat, but she swallowed it down with her own ale and gave a weak nod. She should have been more convincing, but it was all she could force herself to muster.

“That good, huh?” He winked at her and put his cup to his lips.

Ariana’s chest squeezed.

If she was going to stop him, now would be the time. The world around her seemed to shrink back and slow down.

He tipped the cup.

Everything faded away but him and the strong flex of his throat as he swallowed.

She could scarce draw breath, or even think.

He set the mug to the table and nodded in appreciation. “Now that is some good ale.”

Ariana smiled, but it felt as if it were stretching her face into something foreign and unwanted. How soon would it begin to work?

She tried to remember the last time she’d used the vial. Her nerves had been so frayed then, her whole body so on edge. She’d been far too distracted to count time.

Outside came the sound of the crowd shouting something indiscernible.

Indiscernible, but close.

Connor narrowed his eyes and looked past her to the small windows set against the front of the tavern. “I think there might be an uprising if the king’s nobles can’t get a handle on that crowd.”

His gaze returned to her and his brow puckered. “Surely ye are no’ worried.”

Tears stung in her eyes and her throat clogged with guilt.

“Ariana.” His voice was tender. It might have been soothing had she not felt so awful.

He covered her hand with the warmth of his. “Ye can talk to me, lass.”

“I want to leave.” She’d practiced the admission in her mind a thousand times over. Always it’d come out confident and insistent. Now it emerged a whisper.

He stared at her a long moment without speaking. But not without feeling.

She could see the pain burn bright in his eyes, in those beautiful hazel eyes she’d spent far too much time studying.

He cleared his throat and his gaze shielded his emotions.

He had his own defenses, and he was clearly using them on her.

“I dinna want ye to leave,” he said finally.

His hand still rested atop hers and his palm had begun to sweat. It was apparent the draught was beginning to take effect. Connor blinked slowly and shook his head, as if he could shake off the feeling creeping over him.

Ariana knew it was a useless gesture.