Page 49 of Highland Spy

A sob choked from her, the rupture of the swollen ache of her throat loosing the flood of tears she’d dammed for too long.

She buried her face in the heat of her palms and sobbed. Never had she cried so. Not when she’d learned of her destitute state, nor when her parents had died, nor when her brother had died.

Yet now, as a woman who had attained power, at the peak of her own strength, so too with it came the pain of her weakest moment.

At least there was no one nearby to bear witness.

• • •

Connor should have backed away from the window. Or so he told himself several times. His feet refused to obey the order his mind issued.

Ariana’s red gown stood out like a berry among the brush near the rear of the castle where the solar overlooked. Her rounded back faced him and her head bowed forward, no doubt beneath the same burden weighing upon them all.

Thanks be to God Liv had survived, though the loss of her child had disturbed the household.

Well, those who knew.

A note sat on the desk behind him, one penned in Delilah’s carefully curling hand. Connor and Ariana might have found only a marriage contract with no worth to them, but Delilah and Sylvi had uncovered something potentially treasonous.

Their note, carried in the hands of an illiterate adolescent, indicated they would not return until they had all the necessary information.

Doubtless Sylvi had made the decision.

Delilah, of course, would have most likely wanted to pack several more gowns and perfumes before their departure.

He would have smirked in amusement were it not for the shapely red back still turned toward him.

A gentle knock sounded on his door and he turned from the window with the speed of the guilty before bidding his visitor enter.

The door cracked open in so quiet a manner he knew it was Percy before his eyes could confirm it.

She wore a clean blue dress and her hair fell down her back in a long, blonde braid. Smudges of darkness showed under her eyes, where exhaustion bruised her delicate flesh. She carried a linen-covered trencher.

Connor strode toward her and took the tray.

“You haven’t eaten since your return,” Percy said.

“And ye havena slept,” he countered.

Percy gave a gentle, acknowledging smile. “I will.”

Connor set the surprisingly heavy trencher on the table. The briny scent of roasted pork mingled with the sweet, homey aroma of oatcakes. His mouth watered, but he swallowed and turned away from the food.

“How is Liv?” he asked.

Percy folded her hands in front of her waist. “She will recover, though it may take some time. Her heart is broken from what she’s lost.” She pursed her lips before speaking. “I believe Ariana’s may be as well.”

It was all Connor could do to keep from turning toward the window and peering through the brambles, to where Ariana stood in the desolation of her grief.

“We are all quite saddened by what happened, of course,” Percy continued. “But it is in my heart to believe Ariana has never before cared for someone, not to the extent she cares for Liv.”

The conversation he’d had with Ariana several nights prior rose to the forefront of his mind, how she said she’d never known her own parents well enough to feel their loss.

And, in the light of having witnessed her sorrow, he didn’t know which was worse—to experience the pain of loss, or to never have loved enough to know it.

Percy wavered on her feet, but steadied herself before Connor could reach out to her. Still, he settled his hand on her shoulder, helping to support her willowy frame.

“Ariana will be fine, lass,” he said. “As will Liv. Ye need to get rest or ye willna be of help to anyone.”