“Clara, we care about you. Come down with me. We can—”
“Okay,” she said, startling Emma. If she gave Emma any reason to suspect her plan, her friend would have Alex up here immediately. It would be easier to see him with others around. Clara didn’t know if she was strong enough to face him alone.
He might not love her, but her feelings for him were not ambiguous. The thought of leaving him, walking away knowing she may never see him again. . .
She could endure a disguise. She could endure a life on the run. She could even endure the crude comments and high-handedness of those who would hire her to squire. But life without Alex, without his easy smile and gentle touch. That, she did not know if she was strong enough to endure. But what other choice did she have? As long as she stayed here, Clara was in danger of discovery. And as much as Sara proclaimed otherwise, no one could ensure she—and those who’d knowingly harbored a traitor’s daughter—were safe.
It was the only certain way to protect them.
But she’d need to find a way to leave without anyone suspecting, and if that meant venturing below stairs with Emma, then she would do it.
Still surprised, Emma pulled her along until they were in the great hall. The tables were already being cleared.
“Are you hungry?” Emma asked. “I can ask Cook—”
“Nay.” She looked around but didn’t see anyone other than servants.
“He’s already in the training yard,” she said. “Shall we go there—”
Clara shook her head. She was surprised he had not looked for her this morning. It would be easier not to see him again, but part of her was disappointed. She would need to change and gather her few belongings. . .
“Lady Susanna.”
The voice was one she knew well. Clara spun around and watched Alex walk toward her from the back of the hall.
“I’d thought you and Geoffrey—” Emma started.
“I came back to speak to Lady Susanna.”
He did not smile nor jest. His expression was grim, and Clara’s breath caught when his gaze found, and held, hers.
He could not know. If Alex suspected her plans in any way, he would not stop until he had changed her mind. Which she absolutely could not do.
“Oh?” she said. Clara gave Emma a look that clearly told her to stay.
“It seems every time you are near, I have urgent business to attend to,” Emma said to Alex, completely ignoring Clara’s pleading looks.
With that, Emma walked away.
Always trying to help her, even when she didn’t wish to be helped.
Thank you, my friend, Clara thought. I will miss you.
Clara turned to Alex. She couldn’t do it. Looking at him, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him. The sweat and dirt on his loose-fitting tunic only made him more appealing. More vulnerable.
“You asked me to come,” he said.
Hurt, disappointment. . . oh, she knew the feelings well.
“I wanted to speak to you, but—”
“Clara,” he pulled her into the same anteroom where they’d sat just a few nights before. “Lord Edmund doesn’t know you.”
“But if he did?”
“If he did, it would hardly matter. He’s speaking of something that happened—”
“That saw my father killed and my home taken from me.”
He let go of her arm.
“Alex,” she said, suddenly realizing how her words might be taken. “That was different. Your brother was ordered to take Bristol—”
“Stop.”
This was a side of Alex she’d never seen. And though she didn’t like it, Clara did not attempt to pacify him. If he was angry with her, it would make it easier for her to leave.
But she would not provoke him either. She knew the pain etched in his face. Better than she wanted to.
“I think we should speak later,” she said.
Clara held her breath, hoping he would agree. Wishing he would take her in his arms but knowing that it could not happen. This was the best way.
“Fine.”
With that, he turned and walked away.
Clara wasted precious moments sitting here, but her legs would not move. Her body felt limp as if it had lost the will to propel her forward.
She’d been such a fool. Gilbert had never relaxed his vigilance, and since his death, she’d broken every rule he’d ever made for her. If it were safe to travel about as a lady, even one with a new name, certainly he’d have told her so.
It had felt so good to be herself, or at least mostly herself, that she’d ignored the inner voice telling her to be careful. A voice smothered by her love for a man she’d never see again.
Unless, of course, she sat here feeling sorry for herself. Surely he would realize what she planned. Or mayhap she’d angered him so much he would not care if she left?
She couldn’t even make herself believe it.
With incredible effort, she forced herself to stand, to retrace her steps and make her way back to Emma’s chamber. Once there, she quickly tore off the gown, glad for its simplicity, and undergarments. She laid the gown out on the bed, wishing she could leave Emma a note. Her tutor had wanted to teach her how to write, but her father had possessed rather ancient notions of a lady’s abilities. Her skills were more aligned with running a household or entertaining guests.
Until, of course, she fled her home with Gilbert. Since then, she’d acquired an entirely different set of skills, and she intended to put them to use now.
Once dressed, she pulled her sword out from under the bed, fastened it in place, and began to arrange one of her least favorite parts of the disguise. After fumbling with the pins, she placed the hat atop her head, Alfred once more.
She knew now, after a few days of exploring, how Alex had gotten past the guard at the top of the stairs that first night. If she could make it to the other end of the hall without being spotted, Clara could take the secret passageway down to a doorway just outside the kitchens. From there, she simply had to make her way outside and slip away unnoticed.
Only a few people knew of her disguise. She’d worried at first that some of Kenshire’s folk might ask about Alex’s squire. But Lady Sara had assured her they would not, and indeed, she’d attracted far more attention as a visiting noble than she had as Alfred.
She just had to avoid the few people who knew the squire existed.
Pushing thoughts of Emma and Alex aside, Clara concentrated on the task of getting out of Kenshire without being recognized. Once outside, she put her head down and looked for two things: dirt and a bit of privacy. Finally finding both in a secluded corner, Clara completed her disguise. Smearing the dirt onto her face, she breathed in the scent of baking bread streaming out of the kitchens, wishing she’d been able to take a meal with her.
As she’d done at Brockburg, Clara would be forced to leave on foot. Though Alex would forgive her stealing the mare he’d lent her for their travels, she could not risk getting it out of the stables without raising an alarm.
With every step she took away from the courtyard, she knew her plan was more and more likely to succeed. No one would question a boy, and it was much too early for her friends to start looking for her.
But they would, eventually.
Grateful to have found people who cared for her, Clara might have taken comfort from the knowledge they would certainly search for her. . . except it meant they would be endangering themselves, which was exactly what she hoped to prevent.
So it was with great relief that Clara found herself outside the castle walls and on her way to Kenshire’s village. She had the coin earned from squiring for Toren, which was enough to sustain her for longer than most stretches in between tournaments. With it, she could afford shelter and food until she found the next tourney to attend. She’d need to find a merchant to ferry her, but in the meantime, she’d do best to stay off the main roads.
For Alex would come, and for his sake, he could not be allowed t
o find her.
He’d found his mother after six years. He was regarded as one of the best trackers along the border. And yet, he could not find one woman, on foot, and though he was ashamed to admit it, Alex was beginning to worry. From the horrifying moment he’d realized Clara was gone, the dread that plagued him continued to intensify.
“You look like shite.”
He darted a glance at Geoffrey before dismounting.
“I don’t like it,” he said, not for the first time.
“Alex, darkness fell hours ago. We’ve knocked on every door in the village. Spoken to more people here than in Elkview. She’s not here.”
“Then I know where we’re headed next.”
“Tonight?” Geoffrey asked.
“If Sara were out there somewhere. . .”
He untied his mount from the post in front of the tavern where they’d intended to stop for a meal. There was no need for him to wait for an answer; Geoffrey had already re-mounted. Their agreement was silent—they’d eat when they found her.
“If Sara were out there,” Geoffrey said as they rode away, “someone would have already noticed a countess travelling alone, on foot, even if she did wear her breeches.”
Lady Sara tended to dress. . . unconventionally. . . at times, something his sister, Catrina, and Lady Juliette, no doubt, had begun to emulate. He was surprised he’d not seen her in such attire during their stay.
He’d once thought it unusual for a woman to wear breeches. If he found Clara, Alex would never again give a thought to what she wore. She could dress as Alfred every day for the rest of their life if it suited her. He just wanted her back.
His mind travelled back through the long, torturous day, looking for any clues that could help him find her. For any hope. After parting from Clara, he’d trained for the remainder of the day, though his mind had never strayed far from his love.
At first he’d dismissed her fear. Lord Edmund, or anyone they met for that matter, could talk about the rebellion all they wanted. It was over. No one was looking for Clara or any of the others who’d sided against the crown.
But then he’d forced himself to imagine what it must have been like for her, a girl of only ten and eight, to watch her father murdered in front of her—the helplessness of it. He’d thought of the years she’d spent on the run, hiding, worried about losing her life if discovered.
He had been wrong to push her. If Clara needed more time, so be it. They could wait to be married until she felt safe. Or until she began to show a babe in her stomach. He loved her enough to go along with any plan she devised.
Except, of course, for this one.
The moment Emma hurried out into the yard, he’d known. . . he’d run back to the keep to verify what she’d told him, and as he stared down at the gown Clara had worn earlier that day, fear crawled through his body.
“Alfred’s clothing is gone,” Emma confirmed breathlessly, answering his next question.
Sara and Geoffrey followed them into the room, and after Emma relayed the previous evening’s conversation, they all understood that she’d run away.
“I never imagined—”
Sara looked especially pale, and Alex knew she blamed herself.
“How would you know that pompous old man—”
Sara’s narrowed eyes cut Geoffrey’s thoughts short.
For the briefest of moments, Alex thought back to the horror he’d experienced upon learning his mother had left them. But she’d done so for a good reason, as had Clara. How could he have missed the signs? She’d refused to see him last night, and this morning she’d pushed him away, knowing all along that she planned to leave.
“She talked to you today,” Emma began, the panic in her voice not making him feel better about the situation.
“Aye,” he said, not willing to divulge much else. “She didn’t say anything to you about leaving?”
Emma shook her head as she looked around the room. “Nothing of import. I know she was still upset about last eve but. . . oh Clara, I’m so sorry,” she said.
“We’ll find her,” Alex said.
Geoffrey and Sara began to leave, but Emma stopped Alex before he could follow them.
“She’s trying to protect us.”
“I know.”
Years of training forced him to remain calm when he wanted to do anything but.
“Alex?” Emma looked as if she wanted to say more, but her mouth opened and closed a couple of times without any words coming out.
“Do you know where she is? Where she could have gone?”
“No, I’m sorry, I do not.”
He waited, hoping she would tell him something, anything, to help him find her.
“You need to find her. She loves you.”
That was not at all what he’d expected to hear.
“Did she tell you that?”
They’d never talked about love. He’d meant to tell her how he felt, but something had always interrupted him.
“She didn’t have to. Her feelings—your feelings—are obvious. Please. . . please find her,” she begged.
She left the room, and he stood alone for a moment, thinking of Emma’s words.
The thought of never seeing Clara again brought him physical pain—the kind of ache that would never go away. Aye, he loved her, and he would find her and convince her she was safe. That they were safe. He didn’t care how long it took.
Gilbert had kept her alive, but being alive was not enough if she spent her entire life running.
Now, riding atop his horse next to Geoffrey, something finally clicked into place. Gilbert.
“Gilbert told me if anything ever happened to him, I should go to Keston House,” Clara had said, after telling him she’d left Keston before long, worried she’d put the owners in danger.
“Geoffrey, we go to Keston House.”
26
Clara bounced up and down with the motion of the cart, thanking God for her good fortune in finding not just any merchant, but a fur trader willing to accept her coin. The cart was much more comfortable than she’d expected, and although the elderly trader would not be of much assistance against potential threat, he and his young nephew navigated the roads well.
They had just been stopped for a tax collection, having passed through a new lord’s border. Clara assumed the man would then stop for the night since darkness had already begun to fall, but he did not.
She had spoken to no one in Kenshire’s village, assuming Alex would start looking for her there. She’d tried not to feel too badly about taking a loaf of bread since she had left the baker ample compensation.
So far, her disguise had worked well. Clara had kept her head down and taken only what she needed. Standing at the edge of the village, she’d waited for someone, anyone, to leave—and she’d given the fur trader double the usual amount for his trouble. There was a chance he’d attempt to rob her, knowing she had that much coin on her, but it was a chance she had to take.
The man and his nephew had been kind thus far, so when the wagon creaked to a stop and she heard the raised voices, Clara did the one thing Gilbert had trained her never to do. Get involved in a confrontation. Usually she was more careful about choosing her riding companions, and she favored those who could provide her with protection.
Damn fool reivers.
She couldn’t tell if they were English or Scottish, but that was the danger of travelling by moonlight.
“We don’t care about your guild, old man. Show us the goods.”
Clara jumped out on the opposite side of the would-be attackers—there were two—and hid behind the large wheel, knowing surprise was her best defense.
She could tell the merchant was nervous, likely because of her. The merchant’s guild might offer some protection, but this trader needed either an older nephew or plenty of coin to keep himself from harm.
“Pay us in coin or in fur. You decide.”
“I’ve not got more than I earned at Kenshire.”
; So he didn’t have a bribe. How did he plan to stay alive?
Clara moved around the side of the wagon and held her finger to her lips when the boy looked down to her. The poor lad was terrified.
“Please,” the merchant begged. “My sister and her husband are both dead. The boy only has me to look after him. Without that fur—”
As soon as the second man dismounted from his nag, she moved quickly, taking advantage of the opportunity before her. Clara kicked the lance from the first man’s hand and held her thin sword to his back.
“You have choices,” she grumbled. “Leave us in peace and rob some other unsuspecting victim, or lose your partner for a few pelts of fur.”
She only had one chance to get it right, to convince him her words were true. Her training, it seemed, had not deserted her.
“Move,” she muttered to the man, who smelled like a mixture of dirt and dung, “and die.”
He could overpower her easily, but she wouldn’t give him the chance to learn that.
“I’ve no wish to see anyone die,” the second man said.
It wasn’t at all what Clara had expected to hear.
“Can’t overlook the opportunity for extra coin,” he continued. “But we’ll be on our way.”
This was the most dangerous part. Once she took the sword away, she would be vulnerable.
She tried to think of something to say, hoping for some time for the merchants to arm themselves. Even an old man and a boy would know enough to carry weapons. She peered around her captive to see the old man did indeed hold a knife in his hands.
But it would provide very scant protection against these men unless they truly believed her a threat.
She’d been in difficult situations before, but this was one of the trickiest. Not even a full day had passed, and her life was already on the line.
Alex and Geoffrey were forced to slow down without much moonlight to guide them. They rode side by side, their horses kicking up pebbles and dust. At least it had not rained in a few days, making the road easily passable.
Unable to calm himself, Alex found himself thinking of all the horrific things that could befall Clara on her journey.
The Scot's Secret: Border Series Book 4 Page 22