Page 136 of Highland Spy

His hand was ripped from her arm.

And Connor was there. At her side.

“Who is this?” the Englishman demanded.

“The man who isna going to let ye touch her once more.” Connor’s tone was low and threatening.

The Englishman smirked. “And if I do?”

Connor shifted from Ariana’s side toward the front of her. “I dinna think ye want to.” His shoulders squared. He was bracing himself for a fight.

The stubborn part of her balked at the idea that he thought her incapable of protecting herself, but the more logical part realized he was solving the socially complex situation she’d created.

A man could far more easily deliver a blow at a ball than a lady.

“Is there a problem here?” An unfamiliar male voice asked, his Scottish burr smooth and unfettered.

A quick glance confirmed it was Kenneth Gordon. He was taller than Connor and thick with muscle. Despite his bulk, he walked with the ease of a man half his size.

Relief at his arrival fluttered through Ariana for the briefest of moments.

When Connor first left, she had truly feared he intended to kill Kenneth—something she knew deep down he did not want.

“This girl cheated.” The Englishman pointed an accusing finger toward her and Connor’s body visibly flexed.

Kenneth lifted a hand in the air. “I’m sure ye’re mistaken—”

“I’m sure I’m not.” The Englishman’s face had gone from a soft pink to a deep red and the skin on his cheeks shone in the candlelight.

“These are friends of mine.” Kenneth’s voice did not rise, but the man did not interrupt again. “Surely ye wouldna want to insult friends of the host. We greatly appreciate hospitality in the Highlands—as ye well know.”

Now every person in the room appeared to be staring. The chatter had faded to almost nothing, and Kenneth’s calm voice carried throughout.

“I’ll ensure all funds are replaced,” Kenneth continued.

“They’re all still there.” Ariana nodded toward the pile she left on the table.

The Englishman shot a dark look at Ariana, but allowed himself to be drawn away by one of his companions.

The crowd, deprived of their entertainment, turned from the scene and went back to their conversations and revelry.

Kenneth turned toward Connor. “Meet me tomorrow. Give me a chance to explain.”

A pause ensued for a long moment before Connor finally nodded. “Aye, at noon then. By the church.”

Kenneth nodded. The men embraced like friends and Kenneth gave Connor one last lingering look before disappearing into the crowd.

Finally, Connor turned and looked at Ariana. He didn’t say a word, but the disappointment was evident in his gaze.

She hated how his reaction cut into her more than angry words possibly would have. She wanted to offer a justification for her actions, to find something else to blame other than what her gambling had been in the first place—spite.

She’d felt the need to prove to herself she could still slip cards and win—to prove she could still take care of herself.

And she’d failed.

Now it was not only Connor’s disappointment she had to suffer, but her own.

He led her from the hall under the gaze of more than one English and Scottish noble, but he did not speak to her—not through the long walk back toward the inn where they stayed, nor when he helped her into her room.