And yet Aidan found himself kneeling here, waiting for the sun to rise.
Waiting to speak to Clarissa.
Waiting for his future to be decided.
He’d dreamt last night that her father had come to Highgate End, demanding to take her back to England. When Aidan awoke, he had, for a brief moment, thought the dream real. The very notion of Clarissa falling into that man’s clutches again made him nauseous.
“’Tis early, my son.”
He’d heard the noise of footsteps behind him, but he’d assumed it was their priest. On a different day, he would have been relieved to see Father Simon instead.
“Good morn, Father,” he said as the priest knelt beside him. “Did you sleep well?”
Mayhap a foolish question considering the early hour, but Father Simon surprised him by nodding.
“Very well indeed.”
“But the hour—”
“Is the one I enjoy most,” he said, looking around the chapel. “None but myself and God to speak to. It reminds me of my time in the monastery.”
“The silence?”
“Aye, and peace that comes from spending the dawn of the day with your own thoughts.”
Aidan had always disliked being alone, so to him, such a life seemed more like hell than heaven. But the priest evidently disagreed.
“I would ask what brings you here at this hour, but I believe I already know the answer.”
“How much do you know, Father?”
Those knowing eyes met and held his gaze. “Well, son, I know you are in love with a woman who has decided to pledge her life to God.”
Aidan blinked.
“Or at least, one who considered doing so before her path crossed with yours.”
Of course . . . he knew everything. He always seemed to know everything, even when they and Clan Kerr had been at odds over Lady Catrina. The priest had been the first to suggest a meeting between their clans after she’d married the Englishman rather than Graeme.
“But you came anyway—”
“The nuns agreed to take her.”
“You could have sent a message.”
“Allie would not allow me to do so.”
Allie. The same woman who had urged Aidan to go to Clarissa at Sutworth. Why was she pushing her toward accepting a place at Burness Abbey? It made no sense.
“She urged you to come here? To convince Clarissa—”
“Not to convince, Aidan, but to offer the lady what she asked for, an alternative to the life her father had predestined for her.”
Aidan did not want to get angry with the man who tried to help them, in a chapel of all places, but his words were an unwelcome reminder that Clarissa was not yet his. Even as he knew the final choice was, of course, hers alone to make.
But still. “I am her alternative,” he said.
“Hmmm.”
Father looked up at the altar but otherwise said nothing.
“You don’t approve?”
His expression unreadable, Father Simon offered only silence. His inscrutable, knowing expression was likely to drive Aidan mad.
“You believe I’m making a mistake. Putting a target on Clan Scott for the sake of a woman?”
Still, silence.
“Graeme supports me in this. Father, she offered herself to the church only because she had no other way to escape her father. But she has another choice now. I love her and cannot lose her.”
Again, nothing.
Finally, Father Simon looked at him.
“And what makes you believe you will lose her?”
A chill ran through his body, the words sticking in his throat.
“Aidan?”
He’d have uttered a blasphemy if he wasn’t in the company of a priest. Finally, the words came out. “I believe she is still considering your offer.”
Father Simon waited.
“She believes the risk is too great. She’s agreed to marry me, but . . .”
“But?”
“She feels guilty for all that has transpired. But Father”—he warmed to his argument now—“you do not know Clarissa as I do.” Aidan then found himself telling the priest all that he had told Allie, and more.
“She feels badly for telling her father about us,” Aidan said, finishing his tale. “He has made her feel inferior, which clearly she is not. And Lord Stanley . . . she needs to understand that the decision is not between staying here and being loved or leaving and keeping us safe.”
“Is it not?” Father Simon asked, his expression still unreadable.
“Nay,” he said, standing. “Clarissa must decide between living a new life with me, with Clan Scott, and joining the nunnery to escape her father. This is not about Caxton or the border clans. It is about choosing love over fear. Over her father’s hate.”
He needed to speak to her.
“Indeed,” the priest said.
“Thank you for your guidance, Father,” Aidan said, leaving the priest to his prayers.
The last thing he noticed was a slight smile on the priest’s face. Sometimes, it seemed, saying nothing was more powerful than speaking.
He had to see Clarissa and end this torment.
Now.
Chapter 23
Clarissa shifted on the hard stone bench, staring at the walkway and thick hedging that surrounded it. She’d wandered into the garden unintentionally. After a fitful sleep filled with dreams of Aidan, she’d risen early. She’d considered visiting Lewis again, but Clarissa decided she wanted to be alone, just not in the small chamber that had begun to feel like a prison in truth. Gillian’s words of welcome to their clan weighed on her despite their intended effect.
When she’d first come to Highgate Castle, Clarissa had been content to hide away, safe from her father. But now, thanks to Aidan, she wanted more. To be a part of everything Highgate had to offer. To be with him. She simply had to tell Father Simon she could not go with him because she wished to become Aidan’s wife.
So why did she hesitate?
“There you are.”
Her shoulders fell at the sound. Clarissa had thoroughly enjoyed Allie’s company the evening before, but she wanted to be alone. To think. To make sense of the impossible situation she found herself in this morn.
“When you did not answer at my knock, I worried something had happened. May I sit with you?”
When she walked around to the front of the bench, Clarissa nearly tumbled off her seat. Allie wore . . . “What are those?”
She hadn’t meant to be rude, but she’d never seen anything like it. On a woman, at least. They looked similar to a boy’s breeches, and her shirt . . . “You look—”
“Like a peasant boy?” Allie said with a smirk, sitting down beside her. “I’ve been told as much, but I rather like to think of this as my training outfit.”
Training? Ah, yes. Aidan had mentioned he used to train Allie with the longsword. He said she was quite good, in fact. The idea was utterly unimaginable, and when she tried to conjure an image of her father ever agreeing to such a thing, she could not do so.
“I was headed to the training yard but decided to find you instead. In the event . . .”
She didn’t finish her thought.
“In the event?”
Allie sighed, her slim shoulders heaving up and down, and blurted, “You are not coming back with us today . . . are you?”
“How did you know?”
“Please do not take offense, but your eyes are incredibly expressive.”
She looked down to hide those expressive eyes. “I’ve not yet spoken to Aidan.”
“I saw him on my way here.”
“You did?” Her head tipped back up on its own volition.
“Aye, leaving the chapel. Which is most unusual for him. But then, he has been acting most unusual since you’ve come into his life.” She paused. “Again.”
So she knew of their history. From the fond and familiar way Aidan spoke of Allie, Clarissa was not surprised.
&nbs
p; They sat in silence, the garden becoming brighter and brighter. Though Highgate had no doubt come to life by now, this area was secluded and pleasant, and the only sound was a distant conversation between birds.
“When I first came to Highgate,” Allie finally said, “Aidan welcomed me as if I were already family. Much to my father’s umbrage, my intended had died by then, taking his coin with him.”
Clarissa knew the story. There were many similarities between the late Earl of Covington and Lord Stanley. Both men, advanced in years, had wished to beget a son with a new wife. Both had used the promise of coin, or land, to meet those ends.
“And your mother?” she asked. She’d often wondered how her own mother would have felt about her betrothal.
“Accedes to my father in all things.”
“Even a betrothal to the Earl of Covington?”
“Especially that. We needed the coin desperately. Without him, we would have lost Lyndwood.”
Aidan had not told her that. Such stakes would certainly weigh heavily on a lord.
Allie held her gaze for a long moment before speaking again. “I admire you,” she finally said.
“Admire me? Why?” she asked, embarrassed by her own vanity for asking.
“When Gillian married Graeme and my father offered my hand to Covington as a replacement, it was the very last thing I wished to do, but I agreed. I didn’t consider the ways I might avoid it.”
“Could you have come here, to live with your sister, instead?”
After all, running away to Scotland had seemed like a good plan to her. Could Allie have done the same, or was her father as tenacious and unwavering as Clarissa’s?
Allie looked down at her hands. “I could have. Gillian came to England to fetch me, insisting I do just that.”
“But you refused?”
Allie shook her head. “Aye. In a way. I led her to believe I had a plan to escape, but my only plan was to protect Gillian. Had she brought me here, she would have endangered her relationship with Graeme, and who knows how Covington would have retaliated. I could have lived with being the cause of my parents losing Lyndwood, but not with that. Of course,” she added, turning toward her, “the whole thing was my father’s fault . . .”
But Clarissa wasn’t listening.
Whether she realized it or not, Allie had shifted Clarissa’s perspective. What she wanted . . . well, that was clear. She wanted to become the wife of a man willing to risk everything for her. But if she got what she wanted, the very place she wished to call home might crumble to the ground. The very people she loved would be imperiled.
Clarissa felt as if she’d run into the stone wall beside her. Her heartbeat quickened as she thought of what she must do.
“Clarissa?” Allie asked, her voice strained. “Do you need—”
She stood. “I need to speak to Aidan.”
“Good,” Allie said with a grin. “You should speak with him. I’ve made a mess of it, but I sought you out to tell you Aidan loves you. I think he always has. And we could not be more pleased by his choice.”
Clarissa hated to deceive someone who had been nothing but kind to her. But if she told Allie what she planned, she would attempt to talk her out of it.
“When are you leaving?” And then, realizing she may have sounded too hopeful, she added, “I meant to ask, will you be staying for much longer?”
“Nay,” Allie said, standing with her. “Reid wants to get back, to await word of Caxton and make plans for the next Day of Truce.”
Clarissa squared her shoulders. With any luck, her father would honor his agreement and there would be a next Day of Truce.
“I understand,” she said.
And I understand what I must do.
* * *
Aidan looked everywhere for Clarissa before finally going into the hall to break his fast. He hoped she would eventually join them as she’d done the night before, but she did not. He would have left the meal early to search for her had Allie not stayed him.
“Let her be,” she had said. “Clarissa will come when she’s ready. I know she loves you.”
But she never did—and Father Simon was also suspiciously absent from the meal. Despite his thin frame, the priest could eat. He’d just as soon miss mass than a meal, yet there was no sign of him.
Now, as Aidan stood by the keep’s front entrance with Allie and Reid, who were preparing to leave, he looked at the woman he loved in horror. She walked toward him with the missing priest.
He knew at once she’d changed her mind.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said as she approached him.
Aidan tried not to let his annoyance show. “I was in the hall, breaking my fast. With nearly every other person here—”
“I will leave you alone,” Father Simon said. “With luck, there are a few scraps from that meal you mentioned . . .” The quickness with which he scurried away confirmed that the worst had indeed happened.
Allie and Reid also wandered away.
“Please,” she said, ushering them to a more private space, an alcove under the covered walkway that ran the length of the keep. “Please listen to me.”
His whole body tensed. Listen to her? Nay, she could not ask him to do that, not when—
“I love you,” she began.
“So much so that you are leaving with Father Simon?”
When she did not disagree, blood pulsed through him and his hands began to shake.
“I love you so much. You do not understand—”
“Aye, Clarissa. I believe I do,” he ground out through gritted teeth.
“If I stay here, if I stay with you, my father will come.”
“Let him!”
She reached for him, but Aidan pulled his hand away. He couldn’t bear to touch her just now.
“You say that, but when he does—and I know he will—how will you feel then? When the very people you’ve sworn to protect—”
“I’ve sworn to protect you, Clarissa. And yet you refuse to let me.”
“Mayhap I can protect myself.”
So this was about her pride? Proving that she did not need him, or anyone, to help her?
“How? By taking a nun’s vow and living the rest of your life less than thirty miles from here? From a clan who would accept you, a man who would die to protect you?”
“That,” she said, attempting again to reach out as he, once again, pulled away, “is exactly what I am trying to prevent. Don’t you understand? How do you think I will feel if something happens to you because of me? If something happens to Gillian or the babe? Aidan—”
“You don’t trust me to protect you?”
“Of course I do, but—”
“Nay, you do not. If you did, lass, we would not be having this discussion. We would ask Father Simon to make our union official, then bid him farewell before we go to my bed to finish what we began at the ruins. You would agree to live here, at Highgate End, for the remainder of your days. You would recognize that you belong here.”
Aidan felt as if he’d just finished a workout with the men. He could not think, could not get the words out quickly enough. Somehow he had to make her understand.
Rather than answer him, she bowed her head. It allowed him a moment to think, to consider what might convince her to stay. Perhaps she just needed more time—
“Do not do this today,” he said. “I will speak to Reid, ask them to delay their departure—”
“Nay, Aidan, that will not matter. I—”
“One day.” Frantic for her to agree, he rushed out his next words. “Give me one day. If you still feel this way on the morrow, then go. But please—”
She looked up then, a single tear pooling in the corner of her eye. He reached out, wiped it away, and then cupped her cheek in his hand.
“One day,” he repeated, knowing the exact moment when she acquiesced, the resolve in her eyes turning to sorrow. Nodding silently, Aidan pulled her toward him and held her as if it were the last time
he’d ever do so. When she wrapped her arms around him, he felt more victorious than after any battle or tournament.
Now, if only he could get her to stay here, in his arms, for good.
Chapter 24
Aidan cursed his brother, again.
He had only one day to convince Clarissa they belonged together. Only a single day, and Graeme decided it was the perfect time to hold a meeting with the elders. One he claimed had been long overdue. The morning was spent trading insults and bickering, and nothing much came of it. After all, they’d already agreed to continue boycotting the Day of Truce if Theffield did not remove Caxton as planned.
He’d promised Clarissa to send word as soon as the meeting concluded, and he did that now. Aidan considered going to her himself, but he had another idea.
He knew how much Clarissa valued her time with Lewis. He wanted her to understand that here, with him, she was free to do as she pleased. If she wanted to bake bread or help Cook in the kitchen, learn how to wield a longsword like Allie . . . no one would deny her.
After ordering Lewis to take a break, he sent word to Clarissa to meet him at the bakehouse. An odd place to make a final stand, to be sure. But he hoped the symbolism of it would help convince Clarissa she need not sacrifice herself for the sake of their clan.
While he waited, Aidan occupied his hands by tidying up the space, imagining Lewis’s surprised expression when he returned. He’d thought she would arrive imminently, her chamber was so close, but there was still no sign of her by the time he finished. Aidan began to pace around the table in the center of the room. He went to the door, looked out, and could see no one.
Where was she?
He sat, trying not to think of the last time he’d waited for Clarissa. This was entirely different. Back then, her father had forcibly removed her from the tournament grounds. No one would keep her from him here.
No one but Clarissa herself.
Debating whether he should wait longer or go looking for her himself, Aidan was relieved to see Morgan walking toward him.
The Guardian’s Favor: Border Series Book Nine Page 17