“Aye,” he said, handing the reins back to the confused groom. And then, for the boy’s benefit, “It will provide me with the opportunity to speak further with your marshal.”
In fact, he’d already spoken to Sutworth’s marshal, and had no further news for the man who would attempt to keep Sutworth safe during these troubled times.
“Very good.” She gestured to the front of the stable. “Shall we?”
Following her back outside, Aidan thought of Graeme. By now his brother would know he’d come here. If he were being honest, he’d not have an easy time refuting Graeme’s arguments for why he should have instead stayed home. Despite Allie’s encouragement, he knew it had been a bad decision, and staying was a worse one yet.
But the pull he felt toward Clarissa was stronger than his good sense. She was so damn lovely. Aidan wished to wrap his hands around her father’s neck at the thought of what he’d done to them. To her . . .
“We should stay away from the keep,” she said, guiding him to a familiar path. “To the secret pathway where you brought me yesterday?”
They’d ventured through the inner and outer courtyard and to the other side of the great gatehouse. Just to the left of the main road leading directly to the entrance of the estate, not far from the top of the eastern cliff, a break in the tree line announced a footpath.
“Graeme and I explored it once, years ago. Neither you nor your father were here. I believe it was the last time I’d visited Sutworth until now.”
Without speaking of their destination, they walked toward the path.
“You’ve not been back since?”
“Nay. Your father made it clear Sutworth was his in name only. It’s lucky, I think, Sutworth has not yet been attacked since the lack of leadership here is well known along the border.”
They continued down the trail, which reminded him . . .
“You will be questioned about my visit. Coming here, alone, will not help your cause,” he said.
Clarissa seemed to consider that for a moment before she answered him. “There are already so many questions. My arrival, my plans—”
“To join the nuns at Dunburg?” Every part of him wanted to shout, No!
“Aye,” she said, seemingly as disappointed about the prospect as he.
Aidan stopped. This had to be said. He’d not forgive himself if he kept quiet.
“You don’t belong there.”
Clarissa stopped alongside him, the corner of her lower lip curling inside, under her teeth.
“While I waited for you that day, before I realized you were not coming—”
“Aidan—”
“Nay, lass. I want you to know.”
He looked up, the stab in his chest a very different one than when he’d thought of her these past two years.
“I tried to understand how a woman like you could have been raised by a man like him. I wondered if he’d accept me and thought of how lucky I was to have met you, again.”
She abused her poor lip, though he’d very much like to be so abused.
“When you did not come, I wondered what I had said to offend you. And later, I wondered if you’d already known about your betrothal to Stanley. I should have guessed the truth.”
He’d failed her then and was doing so now.
She released her lips and clasped her hands together in front of her. “Knowing you likely hated me was, is, difficult.”
“I don’t hate you, Clarissa. I could never hate you.”
Neither of them spoke for a time. A gentle rustling of leaves and distant call from above was the only sound, with the exception of Clarissa’s breathing. With every rise and fall of her chest, Aidan found himself questioning everything. He’d convinced himself that as long as his family was happy, and safe, nothing else mattered.
But something else did.
Clarissa had always mattered.
“My maid,” she said, though Aidan wasn’t sure where the thought had come from. “She is the kindest, gentlest woman in the world. It was she who convinced me that my father was wrong, that I did not kill my mother, and yet—”
“How could you think such a thing?”
He knew the answer as soon as he posed the question. Of course the man blamed her for her mother’s death. He was a monster.
“Tell me what happened, Clarissa,” he said in a softer tone.
The slight shrug of her shoulders undermined the devastation on her face.
“As I said, I made a mistake. I thought for one brief moment that maybe he would soften toward me. That he’d allowed me to attend the tournament because he was ready to show me the wider world . . . so I told him. It was the biggest mistake of my life. I saw myself married so quickly neither I nor Eda could prepare, not that there was anything I could have done, really.”
He knew all of that already. “And the marriage?”
Clarissa opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. She promptly closed it again. “Was possibly better than living with my father. Except . . .”
God, he would kill them. Both. If her husband had abused her . . .
“Did he hurt you?”
She frowned. “I suppose not—”
“Suppose?”
“Nay, not really.” The light pinks spots on her cheeks told him to stop questioning her, though he found himself thinking about what those Englishmen had spoken of at The Wild Boar. Of foul Stanley’s quest for an heir.
“I am so sorry, Clarissa.”
He had no words to explain how sorry he was for having failed her.
“’Tis not your fault that my father—”
“’Tis my fault for assuming the worst. I had means to contact you, but I did not. Instead I abandoned you to—”
“’Tis I who abandoned you.”
Foolishly, he reached for her hand again. When she did not protest, he took them both in his. That same jolt of heat surged through him.
“You cannot do this.”
But he could see in her eyes that she would.
“I have no choice.”
Stay with me.
He wanted to say the words so badly, but he squeezed her hands instead. Aidan didn’t know which was stronger, the urge to take her in his arms or the urge to put her back on his horse and ride straight to Highgate End.
In the end, he did neither.
“I wish I could disagree with you.”
Her rueful smile told Aidan what he already knew. She could not come with him. Absconding with Theffield’s daughter would make an enemy of him. He would refuse to deal with Caxton, and chaos would surely follow.
“Delay it,” he found himself saying. “Once your father agrees, and Caxton is replaced—”
“And if he does not agree?”
“Then we will no longer need him.”
The look of determination on her face was one he knew well. He’d seen it before on his new sister Allie’s face. She was going to say no.
“If I do not go to Dunburg Abbey, he will find me. When he does, I will have no recourse. And I will not marry again.”
Not even to me?
“Then go to Dunburg if you must, but do not say your vows. Wait for me—”
“I cannot. Until I say them, I will be vulnerable. My father will still have a claim on me.”
He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch Theffield in the throat. He wanted to disagree with her, but she had the right of it. Until she said the words—
“But you are still married! You cannot take the vows while you are wed. If he finds you before—”
“Father Patrick assured me the Benedictine Order allows for a postulant to still be married. Once the annulment is official, I will become a novice. Under the rule of the Church, I will be the property of God, not of my father.”
He opened his mouth to object, but his gentle English lass squeezed his fingers once more and let them go.
“’Tis done.”
As she began to walk back toward the keep, Aidan watched her walk away. He
refused to accept such a fate for her. He had already lost her once.
But how could he hope to save both her and the borderlands?
Chapter 10
No one questioned his presence. In fact, everyone seemed as enthralled by Aidan as she was. After a tour of Sutworth, one she was hardly qualified to offer considering how infrequently she’d been here growing up, they stood upon the wall-walk of the southeast tower, looking out at the impressive view and talking. He did not move to hold her hand again, wise given they could be seen, if not heard, by at least one guard. But she almost wished he had done so anyway.
If not for the shadow cast by his impending leave-taking, this would have been the happiest day of her life. He laughed to learn how she’d gotten away from her father to meet him during the tournament, though it had been nothing more than her “using the time to pray,” a practice with which he always approved. She smiled at his memory of their first encounter years before. He claimed to have been drawn to her then, and if she had not felt the same way, Clarissa may not have been inclined to believe him.
Rather than sit at the head table in the hall, on display in front of people she hardly knew, Clarissa asked for their evening meal to be brought to the solar. According to custom, the small, private room was located just off the master bedchamber on the second floor of the keep. Courtesy of its shuttered windows, which had been thrown open upon her arrival, it was one of the best-lit chambers in the manor. Both the solar and master chamber had been freshly scrubbed and prepared for her. She’d thought of asking for another chamber to sleep in instead, but apparently no one thought of the room as her father’s.
But darkness had fallen, and after they finished their repast, it was time for him to leave. For a moment at the meal, she had put aside all but the ease with which they sat side by side, conversing.
“May I return again tomorrow?”
Clara held her breath when they stood. Aidan had come alone, and though he insisted he was quite safe on both Sutworth and Clan Scott land, she knew reivers preferred to ride by moonlight. Emboldened by the current political climate, they grew more active and aggressive each day.
I should say no.
“Aye. I would like that, but won’t your brother be angry?”
They’d talked about what it meant, him being here, and she knew Aidan recognized the dangers. Evidently, his brother thought him foolish.
“He will.”
His gaze, unwavering, did not make her feel uncomfortable. Just the opposite, in fact. She could not look away. She’d noticed his eyes turned more green when he looked at her this way.
Her pulse raced as the implication of his words penetrated. He should not be here and should definitely not return. But he would anyway.
And at that moment, Clarissa never wanted anything more than Aidan de Sowlis to lean over and kiss her. She’d thought of their kiss by the lake on so many lonely nights. Had memory served her well, or would it be disappointing? Somehow she doubted it.
“If you only knew how much I want it too,” he said.
Oh dear! Clarissa had been caught staring at his lips. Rather than deny it, she met his eyes once again and said, “I’ve thought of it so many times. It was my first, and only, kiss.”
His eyes narrowed. “Your husband?”
“Never touched me in that way.”
Though he had poised himself above her, his white skin gleaming in the darkness of their chamber, he’d never kissed her. Never caressed her. She’d not wanted to look down, to look at him, but she had been unable to stop herself.
Clarissa shuddered at the memory.
“What did he do to you?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
He reached out so quickly she hardly had time to react. His hand splayed across her cheek, the soft caress of a lover. Clarissa closed her eyes at the touch, attempting to remember it so she could keep it with her forever.
“I would kiss you,” he said. “If you were mine to kiss.”
Her eyes flew open.
“And it would not be as chaste as the one we shared by the lake.”
Chaste? What did he mean by that? The soft touch of his lips had been perfect, and every day they’d spent together she had wished to repeat it.
As Clarissa’s lips parted, his thumb edged closer and closer to them until it rested on the very edge of her lower lip. When he ran his thumb across her lip, a pool of heat filled her very core. She wanted . . .
And then he dropped his hand away, stood back from her and closed his eyes.
“Aidan?”
That feeling . . . when he’d touched her . . .
“What are we doing?” he asked, his voice strained.
She didn’t think he would appreciate “falling in love, again” for an answer. Or maybe she’d never stopped loving him.
“I don’t know how long it will be until we receive word from Dunburg,” she said instead. “And if my father learns of my whereabouts first . . .”
He likely did not even realize that his hand was shifting toward his side. When he was angry, Aidan’s hand crept closer to the dirk that never left his hip. She’d noticed that as they rode here from Theffield—and he’d done the same thing today, whenever her father was mentioned.
“I will take whatever time is given to us.”
Her shoulders sagged with relief. She’d feared for a moment he’d changed his mind. And though it might be easier to part from him now than it would be in a few days, Clarissa could not make herself say the words that would keep him away.
“Meet me on the secret path.”
“It is not so secret to those who live here. How will you explain—”
“I will find a way. Tomorrow, after the sixth hour bell, I will be there.”
“As will I,” she said.
With a slight bow, Aidan was gone.
He strode out of the solar, leaving her standing there, staring after him. No good would come of their meeting again. They both knew it, but Clarissa was as powerless to tell Aidan to stay away as she’d been to stop her father from taking her home from that tournament.
The outcome would be another unhappy ending, but Clarissa no longer cared.
* * *
A sennight had passed since Aidan’s initial visit to Sutworth Manor. Each day had been much the same. Meetings with Graeme and Reid, training with the men, and avoiding Gillian and Allie’s questions about his midday rides. Graeme had not been pleased that first day, and he’d thought to avoid another unpleasant conversation by keeping subsequent visits quiet. They were all becoming suspicious, but while his brother avoided questioning him, his sisters had no such qualms. And so he’d dispensed excuses. One day, he’d claimed to visit Lawrence. Another, the village.
If he felt poorly about deceiving his brother, Aidan pushed those feelings aside. He was not jeopardizing their mission in any way. He’d not tossed Clarissa onto his horse and absconded to Highgate with her—a scenario that consumed his every waking thought—so he refused to feel poorly any longer for his actions.
Even though he knew he should.
So when Allie whispered “Meet me at the training yard” to him at supper, he understood why she wished to speak with him privately—to press him about Clarissa. After all, her skill with the longsword was no longer a secret, and the invitation harkened back to how things had been before, back when they’d kept her developing skill to themselves.
Stopping in the bakehouse first for a few chunks of bread—pried away with difficulty from the covetous baker—he made his way back down the hill and away from the keep, trying, unsuccessfully, not to think of her.
And yet his thoughts lingered on Clarissa’s easy smile. Though she claimed not to be the same since Lord Stanley, he did not believe it fully. The goodness that had attracted him to her still shone through in every word, every smile. Better to think of that smile than the endearing way she bit her lip.
“Over here.”
Though she was dress
ed for training, the new sword Reid had commissioned for her at her side, it was clear his impulse had been correct. Allie was here to talk and not to train.
“I’ve news for you.”
Her smile was so infectious, he found himself smiling back. This was not about his daily rides then, but Allie was undoubtedly up to something.
“You’ve a look about you, lass—”
“A look? Of which sort?”
He folded his arms. “Allie . . . ,” he warned.
The stress of the last days had weighed on him. Aidan was not his playful self, and Allie must have sensed as much.
“I could not chance being overheard in the hall.”
“What is this—”
“The annulment. It is done.”
The look she gave him penetrated before her words did. Assured, confident and thoroughly pleased, Allie waited for his reaction. She could not mean—
“Did you hear me?”
“It would be difficult not to do so with you shouting at me.”
He teased her often about her enthusiastic way of communicating, which was much more ardent than Gillian’s method of delivery. In truth, he was still attempting to decipher her words.
“The annulment? Clarissa’s annulment?”
“Nay, Aidan. The other one that promises to alter the course of your life.”
He simply stared.
“Aye, Lady Clarissa’s annulment! Who do you believe I—”
“How could you know about such a thing?”
He’d seen Clarissa just the day before, and she had not told him anything of the sort.
“Donnon, the sheepherder. You know, the one whose wife was killed by—”
“Aye, I know Donnon well.” Aidan did not even attempt to hide his impatience.
“I was speaking with him earlier, and he heard from Ferguson MacDuff, who had just come from The Wild Boar, that Lord Stanley is already betrothed for the third time, now that his annulment to Lady Clarissa has been finalized. In fact, talk of it is rampant according to—”
The Guardian’s Favor: Border Series Book Nine Page 8