“No.”
It could not be. If what Allie said was true and Stanley’s betrothal was already a well-known fact, it meant Clarissa’s father had to know by now. “No . . . not already.”
His stomach felt as hard as a rock, the sensation not nearly as unwelcome as Allie’s news.
“I paid a visit to . . . Aidan, are you ill?”
He had to leave at once. “Do you know what this means?”
Allie smiled. “It means that you can go to her. Of course, you’ve been going to her each day, but now—”
“What did you say?”
No maid had ever looked more innocent.
“You said once that it feels as if you’ve known me since birth. Though your daily rides were most unusual, it took me some time to sort out. After all, you told me of that first visit, why not the subsequent ones.”
“Allie!” He loved her, but Aidan also wanted to shake her at the moment. “Who else knows?”
She mimicked his earlier stance, crossing her arms in front of her. “You mean to ask, ‘Does Graeme know?’” Allie pretended to consider the question. “Is it not odd that you once helped me overcome my sister’s reluctance to accept Reid, and I am now doing the very same for you?”
Aidan’s heart threatened to explode. “This is not simply a disagreement between siblings. Gillian was the only barrier that stood between you and Reid. In this situation, Graeme has every reason to be upset. My attachment to her could jeopardize everything. And you believe just because her marriage is no longer—”
“I’ve never seen you this way,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. The sympathy in her eyes sliced through him. “The people you love are happy. Do you not believe you also deserve—”
“It does not matter what I deserve. Clarissa and I . . . we cannot be.”
“But once her father agrees to remove Caxton—”
“It will be too late. Besides which, Theffield could easily go back on his word.” Hadn’t he thought the situation through each and every night? Aidan pulled his arm away and shook his head. “This is no time to play matchmaker, Allie. It is simply not possible—”
“Then why do you see her each day?”
“It does not matter why,” he lashed out. “She cannot wait for the abbess any longer. If her father finds her—”
“Aidan . . .”
It was the gentle tone that kept him pinned to the spot.
“You love her.”
Dear God, he did. He had never stopped loving her. And that was why he had to ensure she left for Dunburg. Now. “My feelings matter not.”
“There must be a way for you to be together.”
“I must go.”
When Allie smiled once again, he realized she had misunderstood.
“I must go tell her to leave tonight. I will escort her to the abbey,” he thought aloud.
Allie was incredulous. “Aidan, you cannot—”
“You don’t understand the political situation,” he said. “You and Clarissa were raised in much the same way. Sheltered, unaware of—”
“Do not insult me.”
And now she was furious with him. But how else could he explain to her what would happen if he were caught with Clarissa? Each time he saw her, each time he helped her against Theffield’s wishes, he further jeopardized the future of the Day of Truce. These past days with her . . . they had been the best of Aidan’s life, but they both knew their time was limited.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it. “Tell Graeme everything,” he added, aware his brother would not be pleased. But it no longer mattered. By the time he came back, Clarissa would be safely installed at Dunburg Abbey.
And if the nuns do not agree to take her?
They would. The jewels she brought them would ensure it. The question was not if they would take her, but how Aidan could bear to leave her there, never to see her again.
Chapter 11
By the time they reached Sutworth, all was quiet. None but the guards stirred at this late hour, and though he and Lawrence had been admitted entry easily enough, they’d been provided with an escort to the keep. It was no less than he would expect. In fact, Aidan silently praised their caution, for even though the men here knew him, it was a most unusual hour for a social visit.
Having handed off their mounts to a sleepy stablehand, the small party walked toward the keep’s entrance, their steps echoing loudly in the quiet courtyard. Dry dirt and small rocks crunched beneath their feet, testament to the unusually long stretch of days without rain.
Lawrence glanced at him as if to ask, yet again, what they were doing here. It had not taken Aidan long to realize it would be wise to have at least one man by his side. Already a distance from Highgate End, he’d quickly dismissed the idea of returning for his brother. The chief could not be seen here, even if he agreed to come.
A borderer his entire life, his friend had no love for the English. While Aidan’s father had been a tolerant man, the same could not be said for the chief of Clan Karyn. As Lawrence had said often enough, “If the bastards had not routed out my family from their ancestral home, I may have been of a different opinion.”
Hence his decision to seek Lawrence’s help. Aidan knew he’d not pass up a chance to rattle their southern neighbors.
“What do you plan, de Sowlis?” he’d said. “To demand to see the lady abed? All of Sutworth is likely sleeping. Much like I was before you arrived.”
Aidan had ignored his friend’s mocking tone.
Of course, Lawrence had come anyway, thank God.
“My lords,” the guard said as they arrived at the keep. Aidan had lifted his fist to knock when one of the large wooden doors swung open.
Expecting the steward, Aidan’s eyes widened at the sight that greeted them.
Sucking in a breath, he took in the blue gown lined with a paler blue around the collar and sleeves, a vision of indescribable loveliness. But why was she here at the entrance of the manor, greeting him as if it were midday?
“I saw you approaching.”
She did not explain further but instead stepped aside to allow them entrance.
“My lady,” Lawrence said beside him, reminding Aidan of his friend’s presence.
“Well met, even at such an hour,” she greeted him back. And finally, though it had taken him a moment, Aidan found his voice.
“I must speak to you about an urgent matter.”
Though the lone servant and guard had moved off, they were still listening. And likely prepared to wake their friends with the tale of two men appearing at such an hour, unannounced, asking to speak with their lady.
“What is so urgent to warrant such a late visit?” she asked, genuinely curious.
Her open expression confirmed his suspicions. Even though Sutworth Manor was as close to the border as Highgate End, its lack of leadership left it isolated. She did not yet know.
“It is,” he said, glancing at Lawrence, who stepped forward.
“If I may be so bold,” his friend said. “A room for the remainder evening would be—”
“Of course!” Clarissa waved a servant forward. “I apologize for not having offered one to you.”
He and Lawrence had discussed the possibility of offering to escort her to Dunburg Abbey that very evening, but they’d agreed it may be better to leave at dawn. If the lady agreed. But knowing Clarissa’s mind, Aidan expected an argument. She’d likely wish to leave right away, but Aidan did not wish to risk her safety. There’d been word of reivers roaming the area, and they preferred to travel at night.
“Many thanks.” Lawrence, ever the gentleman, bowed as he was led away.
“Is there somewhere private—”
Her eyes widened in surprise, but instead of refusing him, she said, “Follow me.” Dismissing the lingering servant who had been prepared to show Aidan a room, Clarissa led him away from the entrance.
It was highly inappropriate and more than a bit unusual. But when he gave Clarissa the new
s, she would care less for propriety than for safety. Even if the servants talked about his visit—and they would—it would not matter.
Clarissa would no longer be their lady tomorrow.
As he followed her up a set of dark, winding stairs, their only guide a wall torch Clarissa had taken up near the first step, the ominous sound of their own footfalls echoed around them. Watching her voluminous gown drag over each step, he wondered why she was fully dressed at such an hour. And what she would say when he told her. And how he could bear to give her up.
They reached a long corridor, and Clarissa pushed open the first door on their left. Entering the large room behind her, his gaze fell to an interior door that was still ajar . . . the master chamber.
Clarissa’s bedchamber.
Hardening at the thought of her lying in bed, her blue gown discarded in favor of a thin shift, or better—
He stopped himself, though watching Clarissa bend down to adjust the wood in the fire in the brazier did nothing to temper his thoughts. Finding a cushioned chair in the otherwise sparsely decorated room, Aidan sat and waited for her to do the same.
Sufficiently separated from her, though not from his desire to touch her, Aidan leaned forward to explain his unconventional visit.
“I’ve news, my lady.”
“Clarissa.”
Aidan smiled despite the seriousness of the situation.
“I’ve news, Clarissa.”
He had not meant it to sound quite so . . . intimate. It was the reason he’d avoided using her given name. Every time he did, it reminded him of their first, well, second meeting. Of their time together. Of how often he’d thought of this woman throughout the years.
He watched as she folded her hands in her lap, the creamy skin of her hands so much warmer than the cool blue of the gown beneath them. He knew from experience . . .
Stop!
“The annulment,” he said, knowing he needed to tell her but not wanting to alarm her, not wanting to ruin what would be one of their last moments together. “It is done.”
As expected, she startled at first. Blinking, Clarissa watched him as if waiting to see if he would take back the words. And then the questions came.
“Done? What do you mean? How do you come by that knowledge?”
He explained everything his sister-in-law had told him, watching as her expression turned from confusion to fear. Bounding up from her seat, Clarissa made for the door before he could stop her.
“I must tell Father—”
“Wait,” he said, catching her. He’d meant only to stop her from leaving, not to grab her around the arm. But now that his hand was there, Aidan refused to pull it away. Though he could feel nothing but fabric beneath his fingers, being this close to her inflamed his senses. He could smell the soft lavender scent he knew she preferred.
His intention was merely to relax her, to comfort her, and yet she was no longer married to Lord Stanley. And one persistent thought kept repeating in Aidan’s head, no matter how hard he tried to silence it—
Clarissa is mine.
Without thinking, he pulled her to him, reaching up to cup her cheeks in his hands. He paused just long enough for her surprise to fade away and turn into something more.
She swallowed, her eyes wide. Clarissa knew what he was about to do, and she wasn’t going to stop him. He tried to be soft, gentle. But when their lips touched, he knew this was so much more than a simple distraction.
He wanted Clarissa to be his in truth.
She mimicked him, her hands on his cheeks, the warm touch overpowered by the sweet softness of her lips. But unlike the first time, he was not content to stop just yet. He touched his tongue to hers, sweeping it from one side to the other until she understood. Clarissa opened ever so slightly for him. She would have stopped there, but Aidan persisted, nudging her to open wider, and when she did, he swallowed her gasp as his tongue finally found hers.
My God. This woman had never been properly kissed. Despite her short marriage to Stanley, she was a virgin in every real way, an innocent so pure that he nearly despised himself for showing her now, on the precipice of her new life, the pleasures that could await.
Even still, he did not stop.
* * *
Clarissa was going to faint.
She’d never actually fainted, but surely this knee-weakening sensation could only lead to one thing. Engulfed by this man, his hands and mouth so gentle despite his size, Clarissa shuddered with pleasure. She marveled at the sensations, finally understanding what he had meant when he’d called their first kiss chaste.
That could barely have been called a kiss compared to what they were doing now. His mouth slanted over hers, devouring her and rendering her utterly unable, or unwilling, to pull away. When Aidan groaned against her mouth, she moved her hands from his face to his neck, pulling him toward her. Closer. Closer.
Then, completely uninvited, Lord Stanley’s words came back to her.
You are unworthy.
He had said the words each time, and though Clarissa had never truly believed them, they had lingered close to the surface of her mind. She pulled away, reminded of her past—and of her future. Aidan would not be hers.
“I—”
“Oh God, Clarissa, I am so sorry.”
He thought she was appalled by what had just happened. Clarissa was nothing of the sort, but she dared not repeat her husband’s words. Nay, her former husband’s words.
“Do not apologize,” she said, taking a step back and looking down at her feet, unable to meet his gaze. “I . . . enjoyed it.”
Very much, she added silently.
“That may be so”—she looked up as he spoke—“but it was not the most honorable way to distract you from the current situation.”
“As to that—”
“We cannot travel this eve. It is much too dangerous.”
“We?”
She wanted nothing more than to fall back into Aidan’s arms. That would certainly do more harm than good, but she really couldn’t remember ever wanting anything quite so much . . .
“Lawrence and I will escort you to Dunburg Abbey.”
“Nay,” she said, shaking her head. “I cannot let you do that. If my father finds out—”
“He will not. We will leave before dawn.”
“If he learns of your visit and then finds me at Dunburg—”
“The few who saw us here tonight will be paid handsomely for their silence.”
“You will bribe my men to keep quiet?”
“Aye,” he said, without apology. “I trust no one else with your safety.”
Aidan neither smiled nor backed away from his assertion that only he could be trusted to see her safely installed at Dunburg. For all she knew, it might be true. She hardly knew the men of Sutworth, and if what Aidan had said was true, her father could be on his way here now.
She could not risk staying any longer. But neither did she want to risk Aidan’s safety.
“You cannot . . . your clan—”
Aidan’s frown deepened. “I told you of Allie?”
“Aye, the one who relayed the message to you.”
“She knows I’m here.”
“She does?”
Aidan looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he kept silent. A moment later, he said, “None in my clan would see a woman unprotected. I will escort you to Dunburg Abbey.”
“But I am sure there is someone—”
“I am going.”
Stubborn Scot.
“I need to speak to Father Patrick. Tonight.” She moved past Aidan once again. This time, he allowed her to pass. When he did not argue with her, she thought perhaps he had stayed behind. But halfway down the corridor, a very real presence behind her made her turn around.
He stood there, stalwart and fierce, and an overwhelming surge of warmth washed over Clarissa. She had never felt so protected. He would not let anyone hurt her, she realized. Except . . . if she managed to reach Dunburg an
d was accepted by the nuns there, the loss of Aidan de Sowlis, again, would be the very thing that hurt her most.
Chapter 12
“The abbess is dead.”
Clarissa looked from Father Patrick, who made that announcement, to her two other companions, unsure of what to say. They stood on the outskirts of the abbey.
“Dead?” Lawrence was the first to ask.
They’d sent Father Patrick ahead, a precaution the priest had insisted was unnecessary. Aidan had insisted on it anyway. Until he was sure the nuns at Dunburg were willing to take her in, Clarissa would not show her face to them.
She’d caught Aidan glancing at her as they waited—more than once. Each time, she had looked away, more from sadness than embarrassment. They’d not discussed the kiss. In fact, the last time they’d been alone together had been on the way to Father Patrick’s chamber.
“Aye. God rest her soul, she passed a sennight ago, and none have any knowledge of the missive I sent.”
He looked directly at her, and before he finished, Clarissa knew it was bad.
“It seems the abbey will be closing. Its benefactor, the Earl of Argyll, founded Dunburg after promising the Creator to do so when he survived a violent storm at sea. With the recent trouble along the borders, the nuns have been unable to sustain the abbey on its own. Their herd of sheep continues to dwindle courtesy of reivers. Without the earl’s gold, it cannot survive.” Father frowned. “The abbess had convinced the earl to keep the abbey open, but without her, all agree their cause is lost. They are making preparations to leave even now.”
It was Father’s expression that jolted Clarissa from her frozen state. He looked as if he would weep for her. She glanced at Aidan, and then Lawrence, and tightened her grip on the reins of her mount.
Nay. This could not be.
“There must be others,” she said, “mayhap not in Northumbria where my father’s influence is too great, but here in Scotland. There must be others who would be willing to—”
“She cannot return to Sutworth Manor,” Father Patrick said to Aidan.
The Guardian’s Favor: Border Series Book Nine Page 9