Page 62 of Highland Spy

As with everything Ariana set her mind to, she’d been correct in saying she was an easy traveling companion. For that Connor was exceedingly grateful.

The sun, once high and bright in the cloudy sky, had begun to sag toward the earth. He surveyed the forest they rode through, seeking a clearing of trees large enough for them to set up camp.

“We should stop soon,” he said.

“I can keep going,” Ariana replied. Exhaustion shadowed her eyes and her ready conversation had begun to fade.

He couldn’t help but smile at her determination. “That isna necessary. We dinna want to be riding through the woods at night. It’s best we stop.”

“This isn’t nearly as difficult as coming to Scotland.” A smile eased some of the weariness from her features.

“I imagine it was a difficult journey,” Connor said. “Did ye enjoy the snow?” He winked at her, and she laughed.

Though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he loved the sound of her laughter.

The trees thinned out and an expanse of soft grass revealed itself. The perfect spot for setting up camp.

Connor stopped his horse and swung from it. Ariana did likewise, but he noticed a slight stagger following her landing.

He quickly came around to help her, but she shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“Ye’ll feel better once ye’ve moved around a wee bit.” He said it more to himself than to her.

If he were being honest, he’d admit that he wanted the excuse to touch her, to hold her. He balled his hands into fists. This was not how he was supposed to be thinking.

“Oh, I remember.” She smiled at him. “Moving around always helps. Might not be a bad idea to spar.” The smile unfurled into a grin.

He arched his back and was rewarded with several gratifying pops. “It wouldna be such a bad idea.”

“Maybe then you’ll have a little more confidence in my fighting ability. After all, we’ve never sparred before.” She arched her eyebrow, as if challenging him.

He thought back to the many training sessions they’d been through. “Haven’t we?”

She shook her head.

“How do ye like fighting in skirts?” He indicated her riding habit. Dust and creases lined the full green velvet skirts.

She shrugged off the fitted jacket, revealing the simple green bodice beneath and a white sark. “My trainer has prepared me to fight in anything.”

He couldn’t help but smirk at her reply. “Verra well, but no bladed weapons.”

She slipped a hand into the pocket of her skirt and removed a dagger. He knew well where the blade had been only moments before—down through the pocket with no seam and strapped to her slender thigh, hugging her impossibly soft skin. Doubtless the metal was still warm from the heat of her body.

Her fists came up into a blocking positon in front of her and she sank several inches lower, no doubt bending her knees beneath the weight of all those skirts.

“Unless you brought practice weapons, I’m assuming hand-to-hand?” Her eyes narrowed with focus.

He mirrored her stance. “An astute assumption.”

They circled one another. Her gaze was sharp with concentration, her lips tight, and he realized with absolute certainty she was right—they had not yet sparred.

This would be interesting.

No sooner had he tensed his body for a fight than her small fist flew toward him. He ducked to avoid it and would have been struck on the opposite side had he not dropped low enough in time.

“Good move,” he commended.

Ariana’s features did not relax. “Delilah was a good teacher.”