Page 32 of Highland Spy

The breath was pulled from Ariana’s chest, but she forced herself to stay where she was.

“I understand far more than ye think,” he said in a low growl. “Killing them willna make the pain go away. Nothing will ever make the pain go away. That is what ye need to understand before ye’re ready.”

There was something unguarded in his voice, something hoarse and hurt. Ariana knew she should turn away from the exchange, but found she could not.

Sylvi glared up at Connor. “My Lady never would have held back.”

He scoffed. “Ye’d be even more heartless if ye’d been under her this whole time.” He shoved off of Sylvi. “If this continues, or if I see one more of the girls with another injury from yer rage, ye’re gone.”

Delilah gasped and ran toward Sylvi, mumbling something to her in soft words.

Sylvi’s ribbon lay crooked on her neck and revealed a bit of smooth pink skin beneath. A scar?

Connor stalked off across the field to where the shadows left the grass tipped with fuzzy white frost.

Ariana stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure where to go, what to do. And then, before she could think on it further, she chased after Connor.

He stood with his hands on his hips and his head lowered.

“Ye dinna need to check on me,” he said. “I dinna lose control so easily.”

“I know you don’t.” Ariana stepped closer. “You were there for my heavy thoughts. I’d like to be here for yours.”

He turned toward her. His face was grim, a tired line etched deep in the center of his forehead. “Lass, if only ye knew how heavy my thoughts truly were.”

She reached out and touched his shoulder. The muscle there was impossibly hard, his flesh hot beneath the thin fabric of his léine.

“You could tell me.” She said it softly, half hoping he would hear her sincerity, half hoping he might not, lest he think her a foolish girl.

He stared down at her, and though he said nothing and kept his face impassive, something in his eyes burned deep to the pit of her own burdened soul. And she welcomed it as readily as he’d welcomed her words the night before.

She moved her hand from his shoulder, her action thoughtless and automatic, and touched his cheek. His whiskers prickled against her palm.

He closed his eyes.

Brazen and breathless, she curled her fingers slightly to caress the hard line of his jaw. He swallowed and opened his eyes once more before wrapping his warm hand around her wrist.

His gaze lowered to her lips.

Ariana’s pulse ticked faster and heat rose in her cheeks.

But he pulled her hand from his face and unfurled his fingers from her wrist. “Ye have lessons to attend.”

Ariana nodded mutely and turned from him with great hesitation. But it was not pity tugging at Ariana’s heart as she left him in the darkness of his own shadows—it was then she knew he understood pain so much better than she’d realized.

Connor, for all his bravery and strength and all the women he’d saved, was just as broken as her.

Chapter 8

Connor waited until he’d passed over the stone bridge above River Clunie before urging his horse into a full run. The wind shoved at them, its merciless edge leaving a burning cold sensation tingling at his face.

He welcomed it.

Let it numb his flesh and erase the memory of Ariana’s touch.

God, but her touch had been sweet.

And he did not deserve it.