Page 127 of Highland Spy

“You don’t have a choice,” she said.

“What have ye done?” he ground out.

She had to swallow down the hard knot in her throat before she could answer. “I’m sorry, Connor.”

“Ye’re sorry.” He repeated her words with a bitter edge.

“Sometimes sorry is not enough, is it?” It was her turn to let bitterness seep into her tone. “You were sorry, and now I am too. There is no better way to end this than that.”

Connor lifted his drooping head and eyed her before letting it fall forward once more.

Ariana rushed to the barmaid. “My friend is tired,” she said in Gaelic. “I’d like a room for him.”

After the exchange of a precious coin, Ariana had secured a room on the small second floor and hefted Connor slowly up the stairs. His arm was draped over her shoulders and his footsteps were heavy and labored, dragging more than walking.

Somehow she managed to keep him propped upright—herself as well, which was a small miracle considering the burden of his body weight—and open the door to the narrow room.

It was simple, with little more than a bed within, but it appeared clean enough. She shuffled her feet across the floor, careful to never let herself lose her footing, and managed to ease Connor onto the bed.

Something hard and firm clasped over her wrist as she turned to go. She spun around and found Connor’s hand locked on her and his eyes slitted open.

“I trusted ye.” He swallowed. “Ye know more about me than anyone. Like Kenneth.”

Her tears threatened to choke her now. She pulled her hand free and backed away before she lost her nerve. “I’ll never betray those secrets or compromise your mission.” It was a promise she meant to keep.

Then she locked the door behind her and fled the room.

The streets outside churned with unrest and it bled into the chaos of her own mind. People shoved against one another, incensed with rage. There were so many more than the original group of people they’d seen on the street. And so much more anger.

The loud group from the streets was quickly turning into a mob.

Ariana tried not to think of Connor sleeping on the bed.

Helpless.

She’d locked the door, of course. But then, the door was as flimsy as parchment.

The green swells of hills just outside of town were her freedom. Away from the grip of hazel eyes, away from Connor, to a life of her own choosing. Away from a life that once again required she keep herself from feeling to avoid being hurt.

The sound of a gunshot rang out behind her. People surged forward with a cry, scattering as vermin do when light falls upon them.

They bumped and bustled past her, but she held her ground—no longer moving forward, but moving back.

Toward Connor.

Her breath came hard and fast in panicked, panting breaths. She needed to be there, to protect him while he slept.

Oh, God—what had she done?

After all these months he’d protected her, and she abandoned him to danger.

She shoved through the crowd streaming past her, ducking wild blows and sidling around swells thick with people. She didn’t stop until the swinging tavern sign came into view.

Relief choked off her breath until she was almost dizzy.

She shoved through the inn door to find the place completely empty. The candles still flickered on the table, but not a soul emerged from the door to the kitchen.

Ariana didn’t wait to see if they eventually did. She charged up the stairs and stopped.