Page 164 of Highland Spy

“I love ye, Ariana.” His hand smoothed over her hair, as if he couldn’t still his hands from touching her. “More than the sky above or the ground below or even the stone upon it which I gladly relinquish to save ye.”

She pulled back this time and looked up at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ll explain later.” He pulled a tube of clear liquid from his jacket pocket as well as a candle in a small sconce and some flint. All of which he set gently on the ground. “For now, we must go.”

He struck the flint, lighting the candle. The warm golden glow fell upon Murdoch’s slumped body.

Connor glanced toward the dead man, then his attention snapped back to Ariana, his gaze immediately falling on her ripped bodice. “Did he hurt ye?”

She shook her head, and the lump where she’d smacked herself on the prison grating throbbed. “No, but he was trying to hurt Fianna.”

“I’d have liked to have killed him myself.” Connor took one last look at Murdoch and set the candle on the ground. “Then ye got Percy’s note.”

“Yes, but I—”

Connor grasped the sleeves of her dress and pushed them up to her elbows.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m going to set ye on fire, but dinna want yer clothes to catch.” He spoke the odd statement as simply as he might have explained they’d be having haddock for supper rather than lamb.

“Dinna worry, Percy made this. Hold out yer hands,” he instructed. “And dinna let this get on yer shoes or dress, aye?”

She bent forward at the waist to protect her shoes and the hem of her skirt and thrust her naked hands forward. “You should know about Murdoch,” she said. “Connor, he’s been trying to ruin you since the beginning.”

A clear liquid poured from the large vial and splashed against her fingers. It was greasy between her fingertips, but she did not complain. Not when she knew how many things were so much worse.

Connor nodded. “Aye, I figured as much. He was the constable’s son. A trusted man of our clan. He and his da both were.”

“He killed his own father, Connor.” She said it softly, hating to remind Connor of that awful day.

His jaw went hard. “Aye.”

“But, Connor, that wasn’t it. The king—”

“Enough.” He nudged her forward. “The liquid will burn yer skin if we let it set too long. I’ll set yer hands on fire, they’ll stay lit for but a moment. The girls are ready to make ye a true witch in the eyes of the Crown.”

He lifted the candle to her hands and pulled a glass globe from his pocket. “Go and dinna look back. I’ll be at yer side after this.” He pressed his lips in a hard kiss before resting his forehead against hers. “I love ye, Ariana.”

“But Connor, the king—”

The single flame of the candle licked across the heel of her palm, and both hands erupted into flame.

“Now!” He spun her around toward the open door.

She strode outside, where the dawn made the sky softer than the stubborn night. Her hands glowed orange in the half light and several men stopped to stare in her direction.

She could sense the blistering heat from the fire dancing over her skin, but whatever oil Percy had fashioned left her flesh untouched.

“How dare you put me in a prison?” she shouted into the thin morning air. “Do you have any idea what I can do?”

Hesitation stalled her into place for a moment, accentuated by the fear of having said the wrong thing or acted the wrong way.

She stretched her arms over her head, where the flames sputtered around her fingers and went out.

An explosion sounded behind her and smoke billowed out on either side of her. It filled her vision with a gray white fog and bloomed around the courtyard.

A strong hand grabbed her arm. “This way,” Connor said. “Percy and the others will ensure there is smoke everywhere.”