Page 100 of Highland Spy

And here they all were, in the castle which should be his, but didn’t belong to him.

He’d wanted to look for his people, damn it.

Now he had to figure out what the hell to do with Isabel. The king’s cousin, of all damn people.

But it hadn’t been that declaration which had changed his mind, a decision he now regretted—it had been the imploring gaze from Ariana.

Ariana.

God, she knew now. He’d have to explain it all to her and hope she understood.

His temples ached with the raging pressure inside his skull.

He couldn’t keep Isabel with them. He couldn’t be responsible for the king’s cousin, especially against the king’s knowledge. Too much had already been sacrificed to secure his inheritance. He would not see it all come to naught because some lass wanted to escape being married.

“Ye can stay here tonight,” Connor said, finally breaking the silence the group had held since their departure. “But I canna let ye stay with us permanently.”

Isabel looked toward Ariana, obviously knowing who best to implore. “I don’t want to go back to court. I don’t want to be another pawn in another marriage. Please. I can help you. I don’t know what sort of role you play, but I can help. I’m skilled in many areas. I can help make your accent more believable and can teach you many languages.” Her words came faster and her pitch shot up with determination.

She begged with her eyes, and Connor gritted his teeth at the softening of sympathy upon Ariana’s face. “I helped James all the time when he needed information from someone,” Isabel said. “I could do the same for you. Please.”

Through it all, she kept her stance proud as any English noble, a strange combination with her whore’s attire and her begging desperation.

She was in dire need.

Connor opened the door to Grant Tower and addressed Isabel. “Get inside and get the fire lit so ye can get into decent clothing. We’ll be up momentarily.”

Isabel shot him a grateful look and scurried through the doorway.

Rain spattered them, but he didn’t want to speak inside the large tower house. It was too empty. Even if they were on the bottom floor, their voices would echo on bare walls and carry their conversation up to Isabel’s waiting ears.

Ariana watched him through a curtain of damp hair, her arms crossed in a determined manner.

He nodded toward the inner close of the castle. “Follow me.”

He led her through the doors of the kitchen. As with all the other buildings, it now stood empty, devoid of life, its furnishings carried away. Several long counters still stood intact, as did the massive hearth with a hearty band of iron stabbed through it. The same sad coating of dust layered the room, masking the fond memories the building had once held. It had once bustled with activity and had always been warm no matter the season. The cook had smuggled him bits of browned fat when he came in and declared he needed to eat more to be large like his da.

Was the cook still alive in the village?

He couldn’t think about that now. Not when there was the issue of Isabel to figure out. It was one thing to seek out his people when only Ariana was with him. To do so with the king’s cousin nearby, a woman the town would assume dead—it would be impossible.

Ariana entered behind him and cast a glance around the empty room. She pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “We should let her come with us.”

“I need to see if anyone is still alive from Urquhart,” he said, giving voice to the argument pounding his brain.

Her brows furrowed, then lifted with realization. “The man from town? The one who recognized you?”

He nodded. “Aye, I think there are members of my household who are still alive.”

She stepped toward him and stopped abruptly, her hand extended between them.

It was the first time they’d been alone since their coupling and since she found him over MacAlister and correctly assumed what he was.

Her expression softened, as if she too were realizing all of this. “Connor,” she whispered. “What were you doing at Loch Manor?”

The rain spattered the cobblestones outside the open door and little splats echoed through the cold, empty kitchen.

She moved closer to him. The wet air heightened her fresh scent. It caressed him and made him want to pull her into his arms, where she couldn’t look at up at him so imploringly.