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He was not alone.

Just as Alden had that sense, a swath of bright blue materialized from behind the fountain, the gown’s owner becoming clear. He knew even before seeing her beautiful face emerge. There were few women here at Castle Blackwood and even fewer who would don such a gown. Her chestnut hair fell in waves, over her shoulders and beyond. A testament to her unmarried status, one that had taunted him from the very first time he saw her.

Her skin, fair and flawless, appeared even more so here in the darkness with just a hint of light to reveal her. And though Alden could not see them now, he knew well the deep brown depths of the most intense, intelligent pair of eyes on any woman he’d ever met.

As it did every time he looked at her, Alden’s pulse sped up the way it did when he raised his sword, ready to battle. It heralded an anticipation that was sated when he clashed with an opponent but one he suspected never would be satisfied with her.

Because she was his instructor, and he was her apprentice.

“Lady Elara,” he said with a slight bow.

“Master Alden.” As always, her voice was as regal as the woman’s bearing. She could be the Queen of England for all that he was concerned, for no other noblewoman he’d met had such a presence as the Strategies instructor.

“It is simply Alden,” he said, not for the first time.

Lady Elara raised her chin. “There is nothing simple about you, Master Alden.”

Chapter

Three

When she’d heard the door open, Elara had thought perhaps it was Sir Eamon. Her friend and mentor was one of the few people who knew of this spot. It was he who suggested it when Elara had complained once of having no place on the castle grounds aside from her bedchamber where she could find solitude.

But it was not Eamon.

Elara’s breath caught when she realized precisely who had come through the courtyard’s hidden door. From the moment he’d first stepped into her lessons, Elara had been guarding herself against the pull she felt toward the blacksmith’s son.

She had been around many handsome men before, both here and during her years at court. Elara had even been kissed a few times, and had felt the pull of desire more than once. But never in the four and twenty years she’d been alive had Elara been drawn to a man the way she had to Alden of Shirsten St. Mary.

Of course his size had been the first thing she’d noticed. Both taller and more muscled than any of the other recruits, evident even through his tunic, he demanded attention. Beyond that, and his clean-shaven cheekbones and full lips, it was his eyes that made it difficult to look away. Thoughtful eyes, something she could appreciate as a woman who valued intelligence.

And then there was the way he used them to look at her . . .

It was what made the man so very dangerous. While other recruits had hinted at Elara’s beauty or made comments she’d quickly taken them to task for, Alden’s appreciation of her was quieter, but present nonetheless. An entanglement with him was strictly forbidden, of course. Even Eamon would find it difficult to defend such an encroachment. Not only would it cost her a place of honor among a cause both Elara and her father believed in, she would be forced to return to court—something she could not do at present.

“Some would disagree,” Alden said. His footfalls as he walked toward her were drowned out by the sound of water in the fountain. “I am but a simple blacksmith’s son, nothing more or less.”

Elara could not imagine how he must feel, the only man among some of the most esteemed knights in England, not a knight himself. It was also an honor, though, to have been recruited despite his lack of knighthood.

“How did you find this place?” Elara was genuinely curious.

“I was in the courtyard, as I’ve been many times, not having ever seen the hidden door. But this eve, the moonlight shone just right and . . .” He shrugged. “I am here.”

“Indeed, you are.”

Elara should excuse herself. Her body’s awareness of him, as it always had been with this man, was reason enough. And yet, she did not.

“How did you discover it?” he asked, looking around the small inner courtyard hidden from every side, including from above them.

“There are few spots at Castle Blackwood afforded to the only female instructor here that offer privacy. Sir Eamon,” she added, more directly, “showed it to me a long time ago.”

Those intense brown eyes of his . . . Elara could not look away even as she cursed herself for it.

“How long have you been here?” he asked.

They’d never spoken about anything other than political and wartime strategy, topics she knew better than most courtesy of her father. Answering his question would be treading down a path Elara could not afford to tread.

And yet, she’d long wished for a more personal conversation with her apprentice.