He had tried to discuss the previous evening and their future, but she changed the topic to his mother. Alex could understand her reluctance. She’d endured much over the past years. But as comfortable as she’d become at Kenshire, there was a part of her that still clung to Alfred. That still clung to the perceived safety that disguise had given her.
“Walk with me,” he said as they dismounted in front of the stables.
She looked at him as if he would devour her, which he was sorely tempted to do.
They handed their reins to the groom and Clara followed him toward a set of stone stairs that led to a parapet overlooking the sea. They stood side by side, silent, for a long while.
“There’s something calming about the ocean,” he said.
“I’ve only seen it once before. I begged my father to accompany him to a holding not far south of here. He hardly ever agreed to take me with him, but on this occasion, he relented.”
As he watched her talk, Alex wondered how he ever could have believed her to be a boy. Standing against the bright rays of a setting sun, she was every bit a woman. . . a noblewoman. The vestiges of Alfred were becoming more of a memory every day.
“Though I was awed by such a sight—” she gestured to the sea below, “—it was the lady of the castle who most impressed me. She was so confident and assured, much like Lady Sara, that for years I thought about being just like her.”
He understood.
“I’ve not met a more confident woman than you, Clara. You will get along well with my sister,” he said suddenly. “We can visit Bristol.”
She didn’t answer him. They needed to openly discuss the future, but he could tell it still frightened her to do so.
“Once my mother is ready for travel, we’ll leave for Brockburg forthwith.”
Still, she said nothing.
“Where we will marry.”
Clara simply continued to stare out to the sea, as if he’d made a comment on the weather, not their future life together.
“Say something, Clara.”
When he saw her expression, he almost wished he hadn’t prodded her.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t…”
He took her by the hands then and spun her toward him. “Clara, what we did last eve. . . it cannot be undone. I will keep you safe, always. Do you really believe I’d let anyone harm you?”
Her hands felt so small in his own.
“Nay, but what if I’m discovered? What if they come for me? What if—”
She stopped, but he knew what she was going to say.
“You need to listen to Sara. She’s one of the most powerful and influential women in England. If she says the king and his barons brokered peace, you need to believe her. And you’d be in Scotland anyway. Believe me when I tell you that no one will ever take you from me. Do you understand?”
He loved her.
But he hadn’t told her that yet. Maybe it would make a difference.
“Clara, I—”
“My lord. My lady.”
Geoffrey’s young squire, Reginald, a competent lad who’d trained with them a few days earlier, called to them from below.
“Lady Sara wishes to see you.”
Alex attempted to put him off. He wanted Clara to know how he felt. “Please tell—”
“Pardon, my lord, but ’tis Lady Susanna she wishes to see. Immediately.”
Clara, of course, lifted her skirts and excused herself.
“Apologies,” she said as properly as the queen. “We shall speak more later?”
If it was truly a question, she didn’t wait for an answer. His skittish Englishwoman hurried back to the keep. He turned toward the sea, not quite content to listen to the call of the seagulls above him.
Alex wasn’t sure if he’d be content until they were back in Scotland and his mother and future wife were safely installed at Brockburg. Or Dunmure.
Kenshire was beautiful, and given that he was a former enemy to the Waryn family, he was treated quite well here. But it was not Scotland.
And he wanted to go home.
24
“We have visitors,” Reginald explained, words that made Clara’s skin crawl. Who could it be? Would they know her?
Reginald escorted her back to the keep in silence. Faye awaited her there, and she led the way through a dizzying array of passageways.
They ended their journey in a part of the castle Clara had not seen before, and when Faye opened the door to a room on the second floor, the grandest of solars awaited her.
Sara and Emma both began talking at once.
“Lord Edmund and his wife are passing through. . .”
“You should not be concerned. . .”
Clara stopped them. “Who is Lord Edmund?”
“He and his wife are frequent guests at the keep,” Sara said. “His family is old. . .”
“And he is even older,” Emma finished.
Sara tried not to smile.
“He is harmless. But he’s also a staunch supporter of the prince, so I thought you should know he and his wife—”
“Lady Susanna will not be making an appearance this evening.”
Again, both women spoke at once, but this time it was Emma whose appeal was louder.
“Trust us, please,” she pleaded. “Do you think we, and Geoffrey, and Alex—” she emphasized that last name, “—would ever put you in danger? Tell her, Sara.”
The countess’s smile calmed her just a bit. “You know I’ve made some inquiries,” she said. “And by all accounts, you’ve nothing to fear. In the last three years, none of de Montfort’s supporters have been taken into custody or. . .” She swallowed. “Killed since the provisions at Marlborough.”
It was hardly a comfort given that several of the man’s supporters had been killed and imprisoned in the first three years of her self-imposed isolation.
“Furthermore,” Emma added, “you aren’t even using your real name. There’s no danger, and no question that you—”
“I’ll do it,” she said, surprising both of them—and herself.
Although she was terrified to go against Gilbert’s advice, she trusted Alex. And these women.
“You will?” Emma hugged her as a relieved-looking Sara smiled.
“I will,” she repeated. “But there is another problem.”
Before her new friends could become too concerned, she added, “I will never find my way back from here.”
“Follow me,” Emma said. “’Tis a bit of a surprise. I rather thought you would insist on not joining us tonight.”
She remained quiet as they walked, Clara allowing Emma to lead the way.
“I’d much prefer to dine in the hall.”
The swish of Emma’s gown as they turned the corner caught her attention.
“Thank you for allowing me use of your wardrobe while I’m here.”
Emma waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve more gowns than I need. When we first came here after living quite simply with our aunt and uncle, Sara insisted on them.”
“Have you ever thought of returning home?”
Perhaps one of the reasons she and Emma got along so well was their similar histories. Both had been forced from their homes.
“When Geoffrey and Sara wed, Bristol was still. . .”
She stopped, and Clara knew why. “In the hands of the Kerrs,” she prompted.
They rounded another corner, reaching a part of the castle that Clara recognized.
“Aye,” Emma said. “Geoffrey convinced me to stay here. Though fortifications have since been added, Bristol is quite close to the border.”
“I can’t imagine Kenshire being taken,” Clara agreed.
“When her father died, Sara was in real danger here. From reivers, the Scots—no disrespect to Alex, of course—or monarchs too busy overseas to care much for Northumbrians. The borderers will always be in danger.”
“But you are able to go outside the walls alone,” Clar
a said. “Travel to the village. Or even farther.”
They’d arrived at her bedchamber, or just outside of it.
“Geoffrey doesn’t like it, but if I didn’t, I’d be no more than a prisoner. What kind of life would that be?”
What kind of life indeed?
Emma could have been talking about Clara’s life as Alfred. She was undeniably safer as Alfred, but safe was not happy. She had been living as a squire. As a person without ties to anyone or anything. Mayhap it was time for her to start listening to the people she trusted. She would attend this meal, speak to their visitors, and then to Alex.
There was something different about Clara.
She sauntered into the great room as lovely as ever, greeting him with a smile that held more promise than Alex could have hoped for.
Although he thoroughly enjoyed seeing her so relaxed, he was surprised to find her here at all. When he’d learned of Lord Edmund’s visit, he’d assumed she would panic. Instead, Lady Sara had informed him that Clara would be attending the meal.
They needed to settle things between them, and he would not be put off any longer. But it seemed his worries were unwarranted. Just after they sat down at the dais, she leaned over to whisper, “Tonight?”
The simple question, so poignantly asked, sent blood coursing to every part of his body, making it difficult to sit still. By the time the meal ended, Alex was left with no doubt about her meaning.
His English vixen had flirted with him from the first course to the last, and while he anticipated their night together, he looked forward to their future even more. He was eager to take Clara as his wife—the sooner, the better.
After the meal, she and Emma slipped out of the hall, but Clara gave him a little wave that promised she would return. Some of the hall’s occupants had begun to disperse. The lord and lady remained, though they moved to a table in front of the massive fireplace. Alex stood not far from the dais, deep in thought.
“So you are the brother of the man who took Bristol?”
Alex turned to find the aging Lord Edmund at his heels. Clara and Emma, he saw from the corner of his eye, had just returned to the hall. Where had they gone, anyway?
“I am,” he said, not sure how to respond to that.
Lord Edmund was just as Geoffrey had described him. If his grey hair didn’t proclaim the man’s age, his slight hunch certainly did. The man seemed less than bothered by his wife’s open flirtations with a knight who, by Alex’s estimation, would not be sleeping alone that night. Much younger and more attractive than Lord Edmund, Lady Maude seemed to be the last thing on her husband’s mind.
“Yet here you stand, an honored guest and well-treated, I’m sure, if I know Lady Sara.”
Though his words insulted, his tone did not. Alex chose to be amused by the old man.
“You know the lady well—”
“And her father before her. Less so her husband.” He gestured toward Geoffrey.
“He’s the best sort of enemy a man could have,” Alex said.
“Former enemy,” quipped Emma. She and Clara had just reached them and had obviously overheard the latter part of their conversation.
“Former,” he agreed, smiling not at Emma but at Clara.
Tonight, she wore gold. A gown meant to dazzle. . . which gave him an idea. While there’d be no time for gowns to be made before they left, Alex could surprise her by sending word ahead to the only tailor brave enough to visit Brockburg on occasion. Neither he nor his brothers made use of him often, but Catrina had used his services before moving to Bristol. She would know how to reach him.
He would surprise Clara with a new wardrobe as his wedding gift. He’d speak to Emma about it as they were the same size.
“My ladies,” Lord Edmund bowed his head and brought Emma’s hand to his lips, then Clara’s. It was a wonder the lord’s wife was not better charmed by her husband. Alex tried not to laugh at Emma’s expression. While Clara remained passive and polite, Emma did everything but pull her hand free.
“I must speak to Lady Sara about the wretched seating arrangements,” he said, evidently referring to the location of his seat, which had been at the very opposite end of the head table from the two visions before him.
“What brings you to Kenshire, my lord?” Alex asked, attempting to distract him from the women.
“Ahh,” he said. Waving a hand toward his wife, he made a face that Alex supposed was intended to convey his answer.
“What of you, Lady Susanna?” Lord Edmund said, turning to Clara. “You’re a friend of Lady Gillian’s then?”
Without hesitation, Clara nodded. “Aye, my lord.”
“And who is your father?”
While it was common, at least in England, to establish precedence, and the question was not unusual, Alex still took a step toward Clara.
“He is—”
“A minor baron from the north. You would not know him, my lord.” Emma cut Alex off, clearly as protective of her as he was.
“How long are you staying, Lord Edmund?”
Emma tried to appear casual when she asked the question, but he knew her better. Alex wasn’t the only one who’d noted Edmund’s slight change in demeanor after they avoided his question.
Lord Edmund deigned not to answer but asked his own question instead.
“I suppose marrying across the border worked for your family?”
And while his tone was as light as it had been earlier, Alex was no longer amused. Clara’s nervousness made him more defensive than he should be.
“We are allies with Waryn, of course.”
“Allies are good,” the older man allowed. But then he shrugged. “Until they are not.”
They all looked at him, unsure of how to respond.
“Take de Clare, for instance. I say an ally like the Earl of Gloucester is worse than an enemy.”
Both Alex and Emma looked at Clara, whose face had gone white. The careful look of neutrality she’d kept thus far had vanished.
Alex took a step away from Clara, forcing the lord’s attention to him.
“Not the only man to change sides,” he said, referring to Gilbert de Clare’s famous alliance with Prince Edward. Though a staunch de Montfort supporter, the Earl of Gloucester later switched sides and was rewarded for his efforts.
Attempting to change the subject, Alex turned toward the front of the hall.
“I’ve been to Kenshire before but am always amazed by its splendor,” he said, all too aware that his brothers would laugh at such a pretty speech. But Lord Edmund was the kind of man to appreciate such things, and he needed to make him stop talking about Gloucester.
But the stubborn old fool would not be dissuaded.
“One man gets the hand of the king’s niece. Another, his head chopped off. And now rumors of a renewed effort to dissuade de Montfort’s supporters despite the treaty.”
Alex shot a quick glance at Clara, who, as expected, looked visibly upset.
“Excuse us, gentlemen,” Emma muttered. He watched as she and Clara left the hall without bidding a good evening to anyone.
Lord Edmund, fortunately, didn’t seem to suspect anything.
“Women,” he muttered, obviously bemoaning their inability to tolerate such political talk.
Alex wanted to go after her, but that would appear too suspicious. Instead, he listened to more of the elder baron’s many opinions until Lady Sara made her way over to them.
As if speaking to an older uncle whom she’d taken care of for most of her life, Sara chided Lord Edmund and guided him toward Geoffrey.
“My husband is eager to speak to you,” she said with a wink at Alex as they walked away.
If he hadn’t been so worried about Clara, Alex would have laughed at Geoffrey’s expression. He appeared none too pleased to be entertaining a man with strong opinions and an even stronger odor of ale upon him.
Poor Geoffrey.
But he had no time to worry about the Earl of Kenshire. He needed to fin
d Clara.
Now.
25
Clara paced back and forth. The night before had been a disaster. After resolving to bury Alfred forever, she’d been so excited to speak with Alex. To ensure he felt the same way about her. Though he’d never used the word ‘love,’ neither had she. She’d finally felt ready to be completely open with him—and to plan for the future.
And then, Lord Edmund.
His words had been a stark reminder of why she’d spent so long in disguise. She’d put everyone in danger, and why? Because she wanted to wear a gown again? Her vanity would lead to her discovery, and though Alex and the others thought it safe, she wouldn’t risk their safety.
“Lady Susanna?”
Emma’s voice. She didn’t want to speak to her, but neither could she remain locked in her bedchamber all day. Especially since it was, in fact, Emma’s room.
She thought of the night before, after Emma had escorted her back to her room. As expected, he had come to her within the hour. But she’d not answered his knock. Not willing to wake everyone and alert the entire castle to his presence, he’d left after a few persistent knocks and pleas to open the locked door.
She’d successfully avoided Faye earlier, but Emma would not be put off so easily.
Opening the door, she offered her friend a hesitant smile.
“Yes?”
Emma pushed open the door, closed it behind her, and planted her hands on her hips.
“Alex is worried. I am worried. Clara—”
“I can’t.”
She didn’t know exactly how to put it into words, but she knew that she couldn’t face Lord Edmund again. “I can’t present myself with him here.”
“Can’t,” Emma challenged, “or won’t?”
“It hardly matters—”
“Clara, it matters more than you realize. I asked you to reconsider, and you did. I was so pleased, as were Alex and Sara and Geoffrey—”
It only served as a reminder that far too many people had become involved in this.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, meaning every word. “I never meant for you, for them—”
The Scot's Secret: Border Series Book 4 Page 21