“Oh, you think?” Charlie said, raising an eyebrow. “That much is obvious. You’re two different people, Niall Campbell. The charming aristocrat. The hard-working laird. Which one are you really, I wonder?”
He smiled wryly. “Can I not be both?”
She cocked her head. “Perhaps. Although I don’t think that’s your truth. I think you play at one to hide the other.”
He was silent, studying her face with an intensity that made her feel naked. “And which one do ye suppose I’m hiding, lass?”
There was a challenge in his gaze, and Charlie felt the spark of it deep within her. She had never been one to back down from a challenge, and this one was far too intriguing to resist.
“Just tell me, Niall,” she pleaded softly. “Tell me who you really are.”
He sighed deeply, his expression unreadable. “I’m not sure I even know that myself anymore.”
She picked up one of the coded letters. “Well you can start by explaining this.”
He blew out a breath then pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he straightened and faced her.
“I dinna know how much ye know of our history,” he said. “But the last few years have been...hard.” His eyes went distant, as if he was looking into a past that was painful to recall. “Seven years of ill fortune, lass. Seven years of failed harvests and relentless weather that tore at our lands and homes with the ferocity of a wild beast.”
His voice held an undercurrent of something dark, something deeply personal. Charlie watched him as he spoke, her heart aching at the pain etched on his face.
“We had what seemed like endless rains. The crops rotted in the fields before they could be harvested. The animals died off and those that didn’t were too weak to provide us with the sustenance we needed. The earth itself seemed to turn against us, refusing to yield crops no matter how hard we labored.”
Charlie reached out and touched his hand, unsure of what to say or do. She wanted to comfort him somehow, to ease the pain. Niall’s gaze snapped back to her at her touch. He blinked as if coming back from a dark place and managed a small smile.
“We lost many during those years,” he admitted softly. His eyes were filled with an unspoken grief that Charlie could only begin to comprehend.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his hand gently.
He gave a tired shrug, looking away again. “But we endured. We always do. But now those days are finally passing and the crown seeks a way to ensure they never return.” He turned to look at her. “We have been in royal union with England ever since King James took the English throne after Elizabeth. Now there is talk of taking things further, of a political union of the English and Scottish parliaments. As ye can imagine, such talk has divided opinion. There are those who support such a union and those who oppose it.”
“And which are you?”
He sighed. “I dinna care for politics. I have no interest in who sits on the throne or which nobles sit in parliament. What I care about are my people and ensuring that we never go back to the seven ill years that have just passed. For that we need trade, we need new ways of farming, new industries and training for our people.” He met her gaze. “The Articles of Union will give us that.”
“So you support it?”
“I do, although that is not common knowledge.” He gave a wry smile. “I’m the drunken womanizer, remember? I have no interest in anything beyond satisfying my debauched desires.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. He was far more complex than she had ever imagined. “So that’s why you keep a townhouse in Edinburgh and act so different when you’re there? To keep everyone guessing?”
“Aye.”
She remembered suddenly what she’d seen in the botanical gardens in Edinburgh, the two crowds of people and the pamphlets they were giving out. It all started to make sense. “But why the secrecy? If you believe in this cause, why not be open about it?”
“Because that would blow my cover.”
He gazed at her as if deciding how much he could tell her. Then he blew out a long breath. “I’m a government agent, lass. I work for the crown. It’s my job to root out rebellion.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “And here I thought you were just a playboy laird.”
He gave a soft laugh. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you.”
“You didn’t,” she said, her hand tightening around his. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite. I...” She hesitated, unsure how to put her thoughts into words. She looked down at the coded letters again. “So, these letters...”
“Are from my employers. It’s how we communicate.”
“So they’re the ones who told you to get rid of me?”
