Page 5 of Highland Spy

All the giddy hope and all the silly, girlish excitement crashed into the pit of her stomach.

Her breath came harder, faster. She was a cheat and a liar.

And he knew.

Chapter 2

Connor had deeply surprised Lady Ariana. He could tell by the way her pupils shrank to mere dots of ink amidst the clear blue sea of her irises.

Her posture straightened, her gaze darted in a discreet yet frenzied sprint around the room, and he knew her mind was processing the risk of running versus the risk of staying.

But he knew Ariana would not run. He knew she would stay.

Her nails were perfectly groomed, as was her hair in its simple twist, and though the hem of her sleeve had begun to unravel, she wore the overlarge gown like a queen’s mantle.

He could tell Ariana cared what others thought of her. She would not slink from the room like a skittish cat.

“Would ye join me for some wine, Lady Ariana?” he offered. It was no escape from what he had to do, but it was at least something to soothe her stiff discomfort for the time being. He stood and extended his hand in a courtly fashion to offer his assistance.

Her fingers, long and delicate and hot, settled against his palm.

“Please.” She breathed the word out on a soft exhale and gracefully rose from the table.

The man behind the card table bowed. “We’ll hold your winnings for you, Lady Ariana.”

She turned her head to the side, looking more at the floor than at him. “Thank you, Jason.” Her smile was fragile, and a brilliant red bled into her cheeks.

Connor offered her his arm and she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, her touch so slight it was almost imperceptible.

“I’d like to have a discussion with yer father,” Connor said, speaking before she could offer an excuse.

There was pertinent information to discern before a lady was chosen. It was one of the reasons he had so few women under his instruction.

They walked at a slow pace toward the tables of wine and food.

“My father is dead. As is my mother.” She smoothed a loose thread down on her gown, tucking it against the seam of her sleeve. “My brother as well,” she continued in a nervous ramble, before he could respond. “He assumed responsibility of me for years after my parents’ deaths. But now he’s joined them.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor said solemnly.

“It was his heart.”

She ran her fingers along the seam of her sleeve once more, as if ensuring the errant thread were safely tucked out of view.

“Who cares for ye now?” Though he tried to say it kindly, the question was blunt and, unfortunately, necessary.

He hated this conversation, and hated even more the necessity of it.

Her gaze trailed back toward the card table, where their seats had already been filled. “I care for myself.”

As he’d suspected.

But it didn’t lessen the tightness in his chest to know he’d been right.

After all, it was highly improbable that a noblewoman in an ill-fitting gown would be cheating at cards for the hell of it.

Ariana stopped walking. “I’m in considerable trouble, aren’t I?” The words had been whispered softly, fearfully.

King James walked past then and met Connor’s gaze, his eyes lit with a question Connor could read all too well. Her?