Page 74 of Highland Spy

An anxious little knot tightened in Ariana’s chest and she suddenly felt almost shy under his stare. “Thank you for letting me sleep.”

“Ye needed the rest.” He glanced back toward the fire. “And I figured the smell of food would wake ye in time.”

Her stomach gave an embarrassing grumble of agreement.

She placed her hand over her middle and tried to keep the blush from her cheeks with willpower alone. “Obviously your ploy worked.”

Connor’s eyes crinkled at the sides and he gave a low chuckle. “Aye, it would appear it did.”

The room was cooler by the window, but by no means cold. The small space and well-tended fire had kept everything blissfully warm.

There was something about the moment which made her want to lean her body against the strength of Connor’s, to let his arms enfold her while they stared into the great beyond together.

Instead she stood at his side and glanced through the thick glass to see for herself what he’d stared at with such intensity.

Outside the skies were brilliantly blue for the first time in two days and the sunlight reflected off the loch below as though off dozens of sparkling gems, all framed by two swells of lush green hills on either side.

It appeared no more real than an artist’s depiction of heaven, a thing no mortal could truly know.

And yet here she stood.

“Oh, Connor,” she said softly. She let her gaze settle on the landscape and fill her vision, only to find herself inclined to stare even more. “It’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“The loveliest land,” he amended in a quiet voice. “I’ve been thinking…”

She turned and found him watching her. Heat flared in her cheeks. “Yes?”

“Yer idea to speak with Lady MacAlister is a good one.” He nodded, as if confirming it to himself. “We should go into town today. I will go with ye to see the layout of the manor. Ye’ll ask after Lady MacAlister to see if she’s arrived and I’ll try to beg a bit of food from the keep. Sometimes they’ll allow a beggar entry into the kitchens to sup.”

Pleasure rose warm from her toes up to her cheeks. He had liked her idea after all. Perhaps her first attempt at working on her own had not been such a failure.

“Lady MacAlister will be traveling by carriage, no doubt.” Ariana left the obvious unsaid. Carriages traveled far more slowly than did horses, and ladies more slowly still.

“Aye, but MacAlister may be there. Ye’ll be using yer excuse to see Lady MacAlister as a means of getting into the castle. Besides, MacAlister moves quickly. If he intends to have his wife at his side, she too must move with haste.”

He strode toward the fire and lifted a poker to the meat. “But first, we eat.”

Two hours and a bellyful of rabbit later, Ariana strode into town with Connor on her right. Gray clouds had infiltrated the skies with the promise of more rain. She only hoped the impending storm waited until she’d been to the manor. The last thing she wanted was to arrive appearing drenched and disheveled.

At least her nails would be clean.

Her heart hammered louder in her chest the closer she got to the towering manor. Even its appearance of stoic gray stone and thickly guarded walls seemed to offer a battle cry of intimidation.

This was the first time she’d gone out in the light of day with only the cover of the same blonde wig she’d worn the night she met Lady MacAlister. The wig had been in a sorry state after being crammed in the bag, but it had been blessedly dry and brushed free of tangles with some patience.

Ariana wore a simple dress, one a servant might wear, but she’d put no kohl or carmine on her face. It left her feeling exposed, as though even the hidden light of the sun blotted from the clouds still managed to highlight her and her alone.

A man stepped in front of her. The dagger at his side glinted beside the butt of a pistol jutting from his hip.

“Where do ye think ye’re going?” he asked in a gruff voice.

Ariana’s heart smacked hard inside her ribs. Regardless, she lifted her head with the purpose of someone knowing where they intended to go.

“To see Lady MacAlister by her invitation,” she answered. This time she did not bother to hide her English accent beneath the veil of Scots, though she had been practicing to improve.

Several people nearby turned toward her, their gazes probing and immediately laced with unfriendly distrust.

“She’s no’ here,” the guard said with disinterest. His small eyes darted to where Connor stood behind her. “Beggars are no’ welcome here. Move on.”