Page 22

As he untied her belongings, Clarissa tested out the use of her legs, which were admittedly more than a bit wobbly. Her backside was so sore she cringed at the thought of sitting. And yet, all her thoughts were for him.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

Though it was obvious he meant to accompany her on foot, Clarissa refused to follow.

“My father cannot know you helped me here. If you are spotted—”

“I won’t be.”

He sounded so confident, as if he knew something she did not. Reluctantly, she began to follow him, the gatehouse, and its guards, looming ever closer.

“Aidan, this is far enough,” she pressed.

He stopped and leveled a look at her that nearly made her laugh. It was patient and charming, a classic Aidan de Sowlis look. This was the same man who’d refused to leave her side those many years ago when he’d visited Theffield with his brother and father. The one who had covered for her when she thought to run away, an action that would have likely seen her beaten. Or, if she’d been successful, killed.

The time she fell half in love with him. Only half because she had been too young to understand what it meant to love. That had come later.

“I am aware, my lady, of what your father’s knowledge of this particular adventure would do to our negotiations.”

“Aidan, wait.”

When he stopped, she considered her next words carefully. Just because she’d lost all hope didn’t mean everyone around her should do the same. But she owed him the truth.

“I told you, and meant it. I know my father. He will not be convinced to help.”

“He must help us. There is no other way.”

So it was worse than she’d imagined as she sat inside the walls of her new prison these past two years. She’d heard, of course, of the deteriorating conditions along the border, but to have it confirmed . . . with the thought of her father as their only hope.

She sighed, not wanting to say any more. It would do no good.

“Come,” he said, walking once more. “I know this area well.”

Indeed, he did. At Aidan’s direction, they’d skirted Sutworth’s small village on their way here, and now Aidan led her down a path she had never seen before.

“If you continue walking along this path, it will lead you directly behind the northwest tower and dovecote. And there is little chance anyone other than Sutworth’s men will see you.”

Unlike the other road, this one was well hidden among the trees. And since Sutworth Manor was protected on three sides by cliffs rising from the deep gorge of the River Craig, Aidan was correct. It was nigh impossible she would be accosted.

Meeting her eyes, he added, “I will not leave the area until I see movement atop the gatehouse and know you are safe.” With that, he handed her the satchel and bowed ever so slightly. “I am sorry, my lady.”

Though what he was sorry for, Clarissa feared she’d never know. Because as quickly as he’d pulled her atop his horse back at Theffield Castle, he was gone. Everything else she’d meant to tell him was to be left unsaid.

Turning toward the manor house, named as such only for its size and not its grandeur or, thankfully, its fortifications, Clarissa walked toward it. She’d only met the people who worked and lived here a handful of times in her life. Even so, it was easier to imagine the reception she might receive, or even the possibility they would send directly for her father, than it was to think about what she just had lost.

Again.

* * *

“You’ve told me what he said.” Graeme leaned back in his chair in his solar. “Now tell me what you think.”

Aidan was about to explain to his brother that Theffield would likely help them, but Clarissa’s words from that morning came back to him. She’d been adamant that her father would not aid their cause. But rather than ruminate on that fact, he’d spent his ride back to Highgate End thinking about the man’s daughter instead. No matter how hard he tried, Aidan could not get her out of his head.

Lady Clarissa of Theffield.

A nun.

He shook his head. Never had there been a maid so ill-suited for that particular calling. Not, he chided himself, that a nun could not look as she did. Or have a body made for a man’s hands. But that day by the lake, he had not been alone in his awareness of her, of how the air between them crackled with intensity.