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Nothing.

They were gone.

“You will stay here, or I’ll send someone after ’em to tell the Scotsman just where—”

“Okay,” Clara relented. “But promise me, Albri, you will not send for him?”

Albri frowned.

“I will not be responsible for another death.”

Finally, after a few agonizing moments, the innkeeper agreed. “But ye’ll stay here for at least a few nights.”

“One.”

“Three.”

Clara smiled despite herself. “Two nights.” As if the word ‘night’ reminded her she hadn’t had any sleep, Clara yawned.

“Lie down then, ye stubborn lady.”

Albri pulled back the blanket for her, and this time, she listened.

“If ye truly don’t want to be found, then ye best stay here. Your Scot spoke to every man below. Offered them coin to find you, I’m thinkin’.”

Of course he did.

“Thank you, Albri.”

She tried not to think of Alex when she closed her eyes. But his face, so full of pain, was the last thing she remembered before giving in to the weariness that overcame her.

* * *

“I’m sorry, Alex.”

They’d parted ways with the reivers earlier. Geoffrey had spoken to his friends quietly before they left. After two days of searching, there was still no sign of Clara. They searched roads, farms, and villages. They had spoken to hundreds of people and paid nearly as many with the promise of more if they found her and sent word to Kenshire.

“Perhaps she went back?”

That slim possibility was the only thing that made him agree to return. That and the hope that someone may have seen her—or at least the boy she pretended to be.

“We’ll stop at Elkview first.”

His mother would be waiting for him. Alex would have to tell her they wouldn’t be heading back to Scotland just yet, but he wanted her out of that place. She could stay at Kenshire while he looked for Clara.

They rode in silence, the mood as somber as it had been since they’d left Keston House. Turning back felt like a defeat, and it was not a feeling to which Alex was accustomed. Nor did he enjoy it. But what else could they do? Travel the English countryside looking for a woman, dressed as a boy, who had spent years learning how to disappear? He pictured Clara with her sword held to the reiver’s back and smiled.

She was a remarkable woman, and a beautiful one too. His mind was full of Clara. Disrobing by the lake. Snuggling up to his backside for warmth in the tent they’d shared. Giving herself to him with abandon. . . Och, he’d been a fool not to tell her how much he loved her.

“Someone is ahead,” Geoffrey said, which Alex had already surmised.

Alex watched the lone rider approach. There was a grave look in the man’s eyes that he recognized all too well. He looked as if someone he loved had died.

“Good day, my lords,” he said, his voice flat.

An Englishman. He was finely dressed, though his clothing appeared well-worn. A large man, his brown hair and beard mixed with grey, he was almost as tall as Alex and his companion.

“Good day,” Geoffrey replied back.