Page 4 of Highland Spy

Appealing.

“How very nice to meet you.” She slid him a coy look over the top of her cards. “I’m Ariana Fitzroy.”

“Fitzroy. Are ye a princess, then?”

The gentle laugh she gave came out hollow. She couldn’t be further from a princess. Her slippers were hopelessly scuffed and her dress had grown too large. She’d spent far too many nights choosing to sleep early rather than eat dinner in an effort to preserve her precious funds.

Sleeping, after all, was far more comfortable than being hungry.

“I think you’re behind on your history,” she admonished in a teasing tone. “The Fitzroys have long been off the throne.”

She accepted several more cards, but found none were what she needed. Still, she added precious coins to the center pile. Again, to keep up appearances.

“And are you a laird?” she asked.

It was meant to be a playful jest, much like his quip about her being a princess.

But the light faded from his eyes. He crinkled them in a mock smile, as if he had realized the shift in his mood and was trying to compensate.

Unsuccessfully.

“I will be,” he said. His jaw flexed with a determination she understood too well.

“I think I’d like to hear about that.”

“I think here is no’ the place.” He winked.

“Then perhaps we might get to see one another again.” The bold statement left her lips in a flash and set her heart pounding in her chest.

A simple, girlish hope flitted in her stomach.

Perhaps Scottish men were not like Englishmen.

Perhaps they didn’t care about dowries, or lack thereof.

And perhaps she might sprout wings and fly up into the gilded ceiling.

Was she now adding husband hunter to her list of tarnishing sins?

Could she fall any lower?

“I think I’ll be seeing more of ye soon,” he answered.

Her heart squeezed with an eagerness she had not felt in too long. The idea of seeing him again was not unpleasant.

Everyone laid their cards on the table. She added her own miserable hand to the collection.

While seeing Connor again would not be unpleasant, losing most certainly was.

Ariana tried not to stare at the portion of her former winnings being pulled toward the blonde woman, and focused on dulling the pang of disappointment.

“It must be hard to lose when ye’ve won so much,” Connor said.

Before she could reply, he leaned toward her. The light scent of leather and a foreign, sensual spice teased her. “I’ve been watching ye.”

His warm breath stirred the wispy hair at the base of her neck. A shiver tickled her spine.

“Do ye regret no’ having pulled the card from yer sleeve on this round?”