He’d said it flippantly but he’d meant every word. Oh, he most definitely would not mind if the gossip was true. If Charlotte was his...
Niall rubbed at his temples, annoyed with himself for thinking such things.
He stood and walked over to the window, gazing out into the night. The moonlight cast long shadows over the grounds and illuminated the path leading up to the mill. From here all he could see of it was a darker shadow against the sky. He’d had such hopes. It was to be their future, security against the turbulent years they’d all just survived. But now?
A movement outside caught his attention. He squinted, trying to make out what it was. A shadow, moving furtively through the estate grounds and slipping over an outer wall. The shadow crossed the courtyard, keeping out of sight of the guards, and headed towards the house.
So. It was time.
Niall straightened, his thoughts suddenly turning clear and sharp. He blew out the candle, plunging his study into darkness, and drew a dagger. Positioning himself behind the door, he pressed his back against the smooth plaster and waited.
He was barely breathing, his heart rate slow and steady as he listened. Most people would miss the tiny, almost imperceptible click of a lock, the soft whisper of footsteps coming closer. But Niall had been trained by the best and to him the sounds were as obvious as a thunderclap.
He waited as the footsteps approached his door. He tightened his grip on the dagger. The door handle turned and the door swung open on silent hinges. A shadow slipped into the room.
Niall waited until the door closed before he sprang into motion. He moved silently up behind the shadow, his dagger flashing. At the last second, the shadow turned and Niall’s blade caught on the shadow’s own, with a clink of metal.
The stranger lunged at Niall, their blade slicing through the air with a deadly precision. Niall blocked the attack expertly, his own dagger clashing against the stranger’s.
The room filled with the sounds of their battle—the scrape of boots against stone floors, heavy breathing and the razor-sharp ring of steel on steel.
Niall kicked out with his foot, catching his attacker squarely in the stomach. They grunted and staggered back but quickly regained their footing.
Niall lunged, his dagger aimed at the intruder’s heart. But the intruder was fast too—they ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding Niall’s blade, and quickly retaliated with a flurry of attacks. In a swift movement, the shadow disarmed Niall, his dagger skittering across the cold stone floor.
The shadow pressed the tip of their blade against Niall’s chest and tilted their head slightly to one side. There was a moment of silence before they spoke in a male voice.
“Checkmate.”
“Are ye sure of that?” Niall replied.
The shadow looked down to see Niall’s second dagger pressed against his crotch, ready to slice his balls off if he made a wrong move.
“I’d call that stalemate.”
The shadow began to laugh and stepped back, shaking his head in amusement. “Glad to see ye’ve not lost any of yer edge, Campbell. Damn it. That’s three silvers I owe Padraig.”
He lowered his blade and then took down his hood to reveal a man with a shaved head and neatly trimmed beard.
Niall scowled and resheathed his dagger. “God’s breath, Sorley!” he growled. “One of these days ye will learn to knock!”
Sorley MacCreath grinned and sheathed his dagger. He chuckled as he casually crossed the room to retrieve a chair. With an easy grace, he turned it around and straddled it, resting his arms on the backrest.
“Where would be the challenge in that? And besides, ye know its best if I’m not seen.”
Still scowling, Niall crossed to the candle and relit it with his flint and tinder, then slumped into the chair behind his desk.
“And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” he asked.
“I would have thought that was obvious with all the shite ye’ve been pulling lately,” Sorley replied. “The high-ups are getting nervous. They’re close to securing a debate in parliament to begin formal negotiations of the Articles of Union and their best agent gets himself embroiled in a scandal which makes him top billing amongst all the gossips of Edinburgh.” Sorley leaned forward, the candlelight glinting in his icy blue eyes. “They canna risk ye blowing yer cover and ruining everything.”
“So they’ve sent ye to check up on me? It’s under control, Sorley. I dinna need a nursemaid.”
Sorley shrugged. “Perhaps not. But yedoneed a friend, Niall. And right now, ye dinna seem to have many of those left.” His voice was softer now, the jesting tone replaced with concern.
Niall studied the man across from him. Sorley had been his ally and confidant for years, one of the few who knew about his clandestine activities and the true motives behind them. He trusted Sorley, as much as he could trust anyone in his line of work.
“So what are our employer’s instructions?” he asked.
