Aidan thought she would continue, but his riding companion offered no further explanation. Ignoring his body’s response to her, one he had no right to have toward a married woman, he said, “I will need more than that, as I’m sure you understand, Lady Clarissa.”
“I will explain all, of course. But please say you’ll do it. I would never ask such a thing if I were not desperate.”
Of course she would not. Lady Clarissa was the only daughter of one of the most powerful English border lords. She could call upon any number of men for assistance, if she so chose, but was asking him for escort. A man whom she’d brought to his knees, twice.
“An odd request, I’m sure you will admit?”
Her shoulders stiffened. If that insulted her, then Lady Clarissa would not want to hear his opinions on how they’d parted two years earlier. He had no difficulty conjuring that moment, the one that had left him alone on the shores of Lake Litmere, waiting for hours, while his forfeited match was awarded to another participant. He’d assumed something had kept her away, but he’d returned to the tents to find her gone. No trace of the Earl of Theffield’s daughter.
She didn’t answer him now, and Aidan had nothing more to say. He could refuse to go any further without an explanation. He could demand, as he’d wanted to do for years, to know what had happened that day, and why she had torn his heart from his very chest.
Instead, he fell silent.He would not deny a woman who pleaded for help. Even this woman.
Especially this woman.
When a pair of Galloways appeared atop the ridge in front of them, Aidan raised a fist in the air. His men quickly caught up with him, and Lawrence appeared at his side.
“Do you recognize them?” Lawrence asked.
Their distinct ponies marked them as reivers, but as the men approached, Aidan shook his head. He had not come across these two before. “Nay, but there appears to be only the pair of them.”
It was unusual for border reivers to travel in small numbers, so they waited, and watched, to see if others would appear. When they did not, and the reivers rode by them, a nod and wave their only greeting, Aidan took his hand from the dirk at his side.
“Two,” Lawrence said. “Most unusual.”
Though he agreed, he did not wish to further alarm Clarissa. “They don’t appear to pose a threat,” he said.
Lawrence looked over at them, the question in his eyes one Aidan couldn’t yet fully answer. He knew of Clarissa, of course, but never met her before. His friend had not attended the Tournament of the North that year. The chief of Clan Karyn, Lawrence’s father, had taken ill. Though he had recovered, Lawrence had missed the one opportunity each year for Scottish warriors and English knights to come together and fight, as peaceably as possible. Deaths still occurred each year, as they did at all tournaments, but it was a tradition that brought people together across the border—one that would be jeopardized by a breakdown of the peace.
Unless her father deemed it in his interest to help them. An unlikely event if he discovered Aidan had absconded with his daughter.
Pushing the disturbing thought aside, he indicated for the men to keep moving. They hadn’t traveled very far when he heard the faintest of whispers.
“I’m sorry.”
She’d not turned around, but Aidan heard the words distinctly.
He didn’t want to know, he told himself. It mattered naught. She was married. And he would never be. So when he blurted out, “Why?” it was a surprise even to himself.
She wiggled forward, Aidan swallowing hard at the movement, and reached up to remove her hood. The moment she did, a mass of straight brown hair was revealed. He didn’t mean to inhale, but the scent of roses assaulted him.
She turned to him then, and if a band of fifty reivers had come at them in that moment, Aidan wouldn’t have had the composure to reach for his sword. He did not know what he’d done to deserve this. But God was punishing him, to be sure.
“I wanted to come that day,” she began. “To meet you . . .”
He thought, for the briefest of moments, he wanted to hear this. But he simply couldn’t bear it.
“Lawrence,” he called. His friend appeared by their side moments later. Aidan slowed to a stop, lifted Clarissa from her position nearly on his lap, and lowered her to the ground. As soon as she realized what he was about, she eagerly assisted him. It seemed he wasn’t the only one anxious to put distance between them.
Then perhaps you should have asked another for assistance.
Just as he was about to tell Lawrence to take her, Aidan changed his mind.
“Tell the men to get off the road.”
There was nothing to recommend this as a good place to stop. No water for the horses or even cover for the men. But he could not simply keep riding toward the border without knowing what the hell was happening with Clarissa.
Handing his reins to his confused companion, Aidan walked a short distance away, turning back to Clarissa, who lifted her gown and followed.
“I will know. Now.”
She swallowed. “I made a grave mistake,” she said, her voice shaky. “Instead of keeping it secret, as we agreed—”
“Not that.” His voice had a hard edge he scarcely recognized. Aidan had always been able to command attention without raising his volume. He was respected despite it, or maybe because of it. But she had the ability, it seemed, to bring out a part of him that he wasn’t sure he liked.
“This.” He gestured around them.
“As I said, I will explain—”
“You will explain now.”
Did she really expect him to bring her to Sutworth Manor without so much as a hint of explanation?
“But we must not tarry. If my father—”
“If your father learns the very man who just begged him to oust Lord Caxton as warden has made off with his only daughter, there will be bigger troubles than this region has seen in years.”
Her eyes went as wide as two round trenchers. “He would never . . .”
“He would never what?”
Aidan didn’t like where her thoughts seemed to be headed.
“Never mind.”
Clasping her hands in front of her, Clarissa continued. “Lord Stanley appealed for an annulment. He cast me out, and my father does not yet know. I came home only because I had nowhere else to go. In order for my plan to work, I must get to Sutworth Manor. I didn’t know how I’d manage such a feat, but then you arrived—”
He heard the words, but could not believe them.
“Lord Stanley what?”
“He appealed for annulment. I know not how long these things take, but apparently it has already been—”
“I don’t believe it.”
Blood pounded in his ears, the words coming from her mouth . . .
Nay, it could not be.
“Why would he—”
“Aidan, please. I know you must be angry with me—”
“I stopped being angry with you a long time ago.”
It was not true, of course. But he felt as if he should say it anyway.
“If my father finds me here . . .”
Panic. Fear. Of course she was afraid. Better men than him shook at the very mention of the Earl of Theffield. That bastard was Lady Clarissa’s father, though Aidan had never quite reconciled himself to that fact.
Annulled.
Pushing aside the implications of that word, Aidan reached out and grabbed Clarissa’s hand, wishing immediately he’d not done so. When they touched, a warmth spread through him, the same jolt he’d felt the last time her skin was pressed to his own.
Ignoring the dangerous thought, he guided her back to the men. But just as he was about to lift her onto his mount, Aidan remembered the torture he’d been through since Theffield Castle. He gently pushed her toward Lawrence, who didn’t need to be told what to do. As he helped her mount, pulling his hands from her waist as if they were on fire, he cursed himself for the musings that danced through his mind.
&nb
sp; It didn’t matter if she would no longer be a married woman. She’d abandoned him without so much as a goodbye. She was the daughter of the only man remaining who had the power to bring peace to the border. One who would surely be enraged to find his daughter missing.
An annulment did not matter.
Except that it did.
Chapter 5
Unlike with Aidan, she sat behind his companion, who had introduced himself simply as Lawrence. Holding on to his waist as he’d instructed, she tried to pretend it was normal for her to ride astride a horse with a strange Scotsman. She’d only been this close to a man six times in her life—precisely three times when her husband had attempted to beget a son with her, the day Aidan had kissed her, earlier when she had sat in front of him, and now. And while her body did not flush with warmth as it did whenever Aidan de Sowlis was near, neither did it recoil in fear as it always had with her husband.
No longer afraid they would be caught any moment, Clarissa allowed herself to consider what would happen next. At least, she attempted to do so, but every time she conjured Sutworth Manor or the priest who she prayed would help her, Clarissa found herself glancing to her right.
He never once looked her way. His profile may have scared her had she not known the type of man he was. Not that she knew Aidan well, but there was no mistaking his kind nature.
Though he did not look very kindly now.
“Who are you?”
It was not asked with heat but out of curiosity.
“Lady Clarissa of Theffield.”
The man, Lawrence, whipped his head to the side and glanced at her briefly before turning his attention back to the dirt road in front of him. Covered with gravel that kicked up every so often, the land was at least flat. It had been so long since she’d traveled north, to Sutworth, that only small portions of the journey remained in her memory.
“You are Lady Clarissa?”
He knew her father, of course. It likely surprised him that she would be here with them rather than back at Theffield Castle. Or with her husband.
“Aye,” she said dispassionately. Accustomed to the various reactions people had upon learning of her association with Theffield, Clarissa attempted to ignore his tone.
“Lady Clarissa.”
Was she expected to respond?
“I thought you were married to—”
“Aye, I am.” She preferred not to hear her husband’s name spoken aloud.
“Then what . . . why?” He stopped. “Holy hell and the blessed mother, what have we done?”
Again, no response seemed appropriate, so Clarissa chose to remain silent.
His looks and countenance reminded her a bit of Aidan, which was perhaps why she’d told him as much as she had. Clarissa hoped he would not ask further questions, and her prayers were answered. They rode until the sun began to set. And though her bottom was beginning to get sore and her stomach rumbled, Clarissa did not utter a sound. These men had saved her, and she would be eternally grateful. She’d die before she opened her mouth to utter a complaint.
Finally, when she’d begun to despair that Aidan would never look at her, he glanced over at them. She tried to tell herself she was not disappointed when she realized he did not intend to address her.
“We cannot ride through the night.”
He’d reared his horse nearly to a stop.
When he did look at her, Aidan did not appear pleased. It occurred to her that their plans must have changed because of her presence.
“The Wild Boar is behind us, and Anvil Inn too far out of the way,” Lawrence said.
“We go to Sutworth Manor first.”
Now that they had stopped, Lawrence turned completely around to stare at her. She blinked but refused to look away under his close scrutiny.
“Aidan, we really should not—”
“It is not negotiable.”
“Staying somewhere along the road is much too risky. Tensions are too high . . .”
“We’ll stop,” Aidan said, appearing to make a decision, “feed and water the horses, and then ride.” He shifted his gaze to her. “Can you do that, Clarissa?”
Two things happened at once when he said her name. Clarissa’s heart began to race and she noticed Lawrence did not flinch. As the daughter of an earl, few would call her by her given name. Even family members did not always do so, at least not without using her title.
Which meant Aidan’s friend knew what had passed between them at the tournament.
Trying not to appear embarrassed, she said to Aidan, “I can do it.”
Her backside screamed in protest. Clarissa’s husband had taken her father’s advice and did not allow her far from the castle, which meant any rides she’d taken had been rather short. But these men did not need to know that.
He seemed pleased by her declaration. With a shout from Aidan, they rode on until marshland turned into a patch of trees.
“There,” he shouted again, and everyone came to a stop. Dismounting, Lawrence lifted her off his horse and set her gently onto the ground. She eyed the tree line longingly, and when some of the men brought their mounts into the thicket, Clarissa ached to follow. But how exactly did one ask delicately to relieve themselves?
“Come with me.”
Aidan appeared from behind her, and she was more than happy to comply. He didn’t speak as he led her deeper into the dark woods, the sound of running water not far from them. Presumably, it was why they’d stopped here.
“You may use the high bushes there.”
Swallowing her fear, Clarissa moved toward them as if being enveloped in darkness in the middle of a dense forest in the borderlands were something she’d done many times before.
She finished quickly, relieved to find Aidan just where she’d left him.
Dressed in a simple tunic and trewes, his ever-present dirk strapped to his side, he looked more like a warrior than a knight. Which, of course, he was.
“Are you hungry?”
She nodded. In fact, she’d not eaten all day, and hardly at all the day before.
“Come,” he said, turning back toward the others, “I have—”
“Wait.”
When he did as she asked, Clarissa immediately regretted the simple word. Though every part of her wanted to pour out her story, tell him what had happened that night, why she never came . . . the look on his face stopped her. He was not angry, precisely, but nor was there any special regard in his gaze. He stared back at her as if she were a woman like any other, waiting only because she’d commanded him to do so.
“I wanted to thank you,” she began. Once again, it was a different speech than the one she’d intended, but the words needed to be said. “I know you take a risk to escort me—”
“Lass, if you knew the risk, you’d not have asked for this.”
What was she supposed to say to that?
“Douglas hoped our neighborly ties would endear your father to me more than most—”
She laughed, not meaning to do so. “My father is endeared to no one.”
If she had been born a boy, perhaps things would have been different. Or if she’d not “killed her mother coming into the world.”
“As you say, but he gave my clan the burden anyway.”
The burden of treating with her father. “You hope he will convince Lord Caxton to step down as warden?”
She’d met the English Warden of the Middle March on more than one occasion. And while she would never presume to know a man’s intentions, it did not seem likely this one would step down willingly. A favorite of the king, his reputation was as a man who enjoyed skirting the law . . . not one who cared about the opinion of the Scots across the border.
“Nay,” he said, “to force him to do so.”
She’d have laughed again, but Aidan appeared to be serious.
“He will not do it,” she said with conviction. “My father—”
“This is the last chance at peace.”
“But he is one man
. Surely—”
“We must get back.” He turned from her once again.
Before she could think better of it, Clarissa’s hand shot out to grab his arm. “But wait—”
He did not attempt to remove her hand, and she did not wish to pull away.
But when he looked at her as if she were the barrier between his clan’s safety and all-out war, her hand did drop.
He hated her.
The man who’d once leaned down to kiss her with such reverence, giving her the happiest memory of her entire life . . . he hated her, and Clarissa did not blame him.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
For stupidly telling her father she had met a man, an action she’d regretted every day since . . . for leaving him, and the tournament, though it had not been her choice to do so. For putting him, his clan, and all of the borderlands at risk. For all of it. Clarissa was so, so sorry for everything that had happened between them.
That mistake had cost her everything, and she’d paid for it every day since.
He did not answer. Instead, he turned and walked away.
Clarissa was forced to follow or risk being attacked by one of the unknown animals or reivers or whatever was back there in the woods behind her.
She deserved his scorn. Deserved all that had happened to her since that day . . .
The pain in her chest was so great that when a shout was raised, when Aidan began yelling back to her, it took her some time to come out of the sorrowful reverie.
When the fog of self-pity finally lifted, Clarissa realized what was happening.
They were under attack.
* * *
Aidan pulled Clarissa back into the brush and down to the ground.
“Stay here,” he whispered, “and do not move.”
He could tell she was terrified, but there was no time to comfort her. Running toward the sound, Aidan assessed the situation, dirk in hand. There were four men he could see. One, weapon drawn, engaged Lawrence, while the others had yet to dismount. But they did so quickly, just as he arrived in the clearing.
When one of the other reivers charged his friend from behind, his hand raised to stab him, Aidan didn’t think. He aimed and threw his dagger directly at the assailant’s shoulder. The man’s immediate cry of pain told him he’d met his mark. At the same time, Aidan’s other men arrived on the scene and descended on the reivers, all six ready to fight. Those still mounted bolted. The one he’d injured did the same, looking in his direction before he rode away.
The Guardian’s Favor: Border Series Book Nine Page 4