Page 133 of Highland Spy

His face grew serious, his gaze intent. “I’ve missed the sound of yer laughter, Ariana.”

This was no jest to casually brush off, and no witty, diffusing remark swam up in her frantic thoughts. She’d been disarmed.

And like any good warrior, he took advantage of her lowered defenses. His fingertips grazed the edge of her jaw and he lowered his head to hers.

He brushed his lips across hers in that delicate, not-a-kiss way of his. She drew in a gasp of cool air and he straightened.

But there was nothing more to say before they were permitted entry into the castle with the low bow of a large, red-haired man wearing a kilt.

The room was lit in gilded light, revealing a blend of the dances she’d known in London and the rustic revelry the Highlands afforded. Lively music curled through the air and left almost every foot tapping. A cleared area of the great hall formed a dance floor where more elegantly dressed Englishmen twirled beside the Scottish couples in their beautiful plaids.

Ariana wanted to close her eyes and let herself drown in the dream of it all. This was the life she’d once been so accustomed to, the only life she’d ever known, before hunger and uncertainty had become her constant companions.

Was she truly ready to embrace such a precarious existence once more?

Connor’s arm stiffened slightly beneath her fingers. He was staring across the room, at a man with long black hair. The man was dressed in similar attire to what Connor wore, only the plaid was a slightly different color and his shirt was a golden yellow color.

“It’s Kenneth,” Connor said, without pulling his gaze from the man.

Ariana left her own attention fixed on him as well, assessing the man who had taken everything from Connor, who had so horribly betrayed a friend.

“He hasna seen us yet.” Connor slid his arm from Ariana’s grasp. “I’d like to approach him alone.”

Ariana had expected as much and allowed Connor to extricate himself. “I will not leave before saying goodbye.”

Connor’s gaze jerked from Gordon to her. “I dinna want ye to leave at all.”

There was nothing to say to that. No placating lie of an intent to stay, no consoling croon of how she would miss him. To do any of those things would betray herself and expose unhealed wounds best left concealed.

He cradled her face in his hands like a lover. Her knees softened and she worried at their ability to keep her standing upright.

Those beautiful hazel eyes of his stared into hers, deep into her soul, until she feared the secrets of her reaction might be bared.

Was it possible for him to see how her poor heart raced, or the way her frantic lungs scarce drew air?

Then his mouth came down on hers. Not the soft, butterfly wing of a kiss he’d whispered over her lips only moments before, but the gentle caress of one’s lips against another’s, further warmed by the promising sweep of his tongue against the seal of her mouth.

“I trust ye to no’ leave without saying goodbye.” He gave her one last, heart-squeezing look and melted into the crush of English and Scottish nobles like a ghost.

Ariana, finally able to draw breath, pulled in a deep chestful of air. Not that doing so eased the dryness of her mouth. She did a cursory sweep of the room, seeking out the source of refreshment, and went still.

On the opposite wall was a row of tables, each framed by an eager crowd.

Card tables.

Then she heard it, like the distant pull of a siren’s call: the subtle clinking of coins, the cheer of a winner’s cry, the rapid-fire ticking of cards being shuffled against one another.

She strolled toward the tables before she’d made up her mind to do so, her body feeding off the bounty they offered. Everything in her went giddy with anticipation.

To feel the smooth caress of cards against her fingertips, to casually toss a coin or two into the pile as if they did not dictate whether or not she ate.

To win.

Her breath quickened.

An English gentleman turned toward her and smiled before shifting further right, clearing a place for her. “My lady, will you play?”

She drew two coins from her purse, two of the six she’d brought with her, and let them rain from her fingertips toward the small collection amassed on the table already. “Indeed, I will.”