Page 124 of Highland Spy

If he found them. If they wanted to see him.

So many damn ifs.

“Aye, I’m wearing this,” he answered. “We’ll break our fast in town once ye’re dressed.”

Ariana dressed quickly in a separate room and emerged wearing a simple green dress of good quality, also unusual attire for a mission.

Their trek into town was silent and uneventful. The same could not be said of their arrival.

The echo of cheers and cries carried on the wind and greeted them before their feet touched the hard-packed streets of the town. One man’s voice rose high above the others, then another round of cheering.

Connor put a hand out to stay Ariana. It was a leader’s instinct to protect those he was responsible for, but she did not take it as such. She shot him a frown and made her way past him toward the crowd, her shoulders squared with a soldier’s confidence.

On the street just behind the first several buildings was a crowd of people gathered around something. Or someone.

“This is the reason we have disorder here,” a male voice called out. “For the rich have more and the poor have less.”

The crowd gave a roar of assent.

Ariana pushed her way through the crowd and disappeared from view.

Alarm buzzed in the back of his mind. It was not typical for her to stray from him. He knew she was trying to prove her ability to care for herself, but the price could be foolishly high.

Frustration knotted at his shoulders. He shoved into the crowd after her, his gaze sweeping the faces—not only for Ariana, but also his people.

He found neither.

A man in the obvious cast-off clothing of a noble stood with an air of pretension in the center of the crowd.

“MacAlister and his wife were killed by their own wickedness.” The man’s hand curled into a fist. “And many more like them will pay if we dinna get what we need.”

The crowd shifted around him, agitated.

This—this was what happened when a king stripped a laird of his lands and passed the care of them to nobles who took turns at a manor as if it were a hunting lodge rather than a manor managing the lives of its citizens.

Even if Connor did not locate his people, he’d need to find a way to reclaim Urquhart before everyone killed each other in the impending riot, the anticipation for which crackled in the air.

A flash of green caught his eye. A slip of a lass with dark hair who disappeared into the shadows with far too much ease to be anyone but Ariana.

He forced his way from the crowd and ignored the stares prickling at his back. A grunt sounded from the dark space between two buildings where Ariana had disappeared.

A male grunt.

Connor quickened his pace and arrived just as Ariana swung her elbow up high enough to catch the man in the jaw. The man collapsed to the ground.

She spun toward Connor with her arms bent in front of her face in preparation to attack.

She dropped her hands when she recognized him and gave a little half smirk, obviously pleased with herself.

On the one hand, he wasn’t especially pleased with her, but on the other, he knew the bloodlust of crowds could whip into frenzy. And her approach had been flawless.

The man gave a low groan.

“We need to go,” he said sharply.

Together they fled the alleyway and headed toward the first tavern opposite the crowd.

“They’re using MacAlister’s death to incite a riot,” she said.