As if reading his thoughts, Theffield said, “My men are likely already discovering the truth, or mistruth, of your words.”
Just as he’d suspected. But Aidan played along with the Englishman who thought he was so damn clever. “Your men?”
Theffield stood so abruptly the chair nearly toppled behind him. “The men I have dispatched to Highgate End,” he declared triumphantly. “If they find her, I will have you arrested.”
“And when they do not?” Aidan asked, standing.
Theffield’s head twitched from him to Douglas and back.
You should be nervous, you traitorous—
“If your men do not discover what you believe they will find at Highgate End?” Douglas prompted, sounding like a human version of the wild boar from which his nickname was derived. The man even had an inn named after him.
Theffield’s jaw twitched before that same cruel smile spread across his face again. He was so certain of his victory.
“If Clan Scott is proven innocent,” he said, “then I shall order Caxton to relinquish his position as warden, providing the terms de Sowlis set forth still stand.”
“They do.” Douglas nodded—a courtesy he then undermined by walking from the room before the earl, an indication that he refused to defer to the man as a superior despite his title. “You will find us at the inn in your village,” he added, another slight against the earl.
Neither man spoke as they were escorted from the keep. Only after they’d mounted and ridden far beyond the outer walls, their men riding behind them, did the warden speak to him again. “And now, de Sowlis, I will have the truth.”
* * *
“The truth will have to wait.”
If Douglas hadn’t heard what he did—the distant pounding of horses’ hooves—Aidan would have been in for a blistering retort. Instead, Douglas held his hand in the air, summoning the other four men who accompanied him to surround their chief as he turned to face the threat. Without discussing it, Aidan rode to the front and Lawrence to the back.
And they waited.
He spotted the gold and red banners first. His shoulders relaxing, Aidan continued to grip the handle of his dirk just in case. As the horses came closer, it became clear they were, indeed, Theffield’s men. He turned to indicate as much to those behind him.
The man at the front of the group, Theffield’s sergeant in all likelihood, spotted them first. He slowed as Aidan counted nine mounted knights.
“Greetings,” he called, ignoring the look of contempt on the leader’s face.
“Scots” was his only answer.
The fact that they had accepted Clarissa so easily was a testament to her standing with Clan Scott. She was one of them now, and he’d made sure Lawrence knew the lass was under his protection.
These men, on the other hand, were decidedly not.
“My friend offers a kindly welcome,” Lawrence spat. “You could do the same.”
“Or perhaps your master has yet to teach you proper manners,” Douglas growled.
For a man who spent his days negotiating peace, his temper had not diminished a whit. Between him and Lawrence, they would be lucky to leave Theffield with their heads on their shoulders.
The sergeant drew his sword at Douglas’s words. Aidan took his own off his dagger and put both hands into the air. The last thing he wanted was for a war with Theffield to begin here, on the man’s own property.
“We are under the protection of your master,” Douglas said. “Allow us to pass and no further exchange is necessary.”
“And put down your sword while you do it,” Lawrence muttered, luckily not loud enough for anyone but Aidan to hear him.
Though he looked as if he wished to argue, Theffield’s sergeant finally lowered his sword. Looking at them as if they were not good enough to clean the mud from his horse’s hooves, his eyes narrowed.
Finally, he kicked the side of his mount so hard the beast let out a weary protest. Aidan didn’t wonder at the rough treatment. Most men emulated their leader, and theirs was the worst sort of bastard, a man who cared for nothing save himself.
Had he dared hope the distraction might make Douglas forget his question, the look the older man gave him as they once again rode away from Theffield Castle told him otherwise.
“I’ll have that explanation now, de Sowlis.”
Lawrence grinned at him and then rode ahead, leaving him alone with the warden.
Traitor.
“And likely that is why Theffield requested Derrickson.”
Grateful for the temporary reprieve, Aidan looked ahead toward his friend.
“We thought the request was yours.”
Douglas huffed. “This dispute between Clan Karyn and the Earl of Rockford does not
aid matters. I fear if we avoid war this time, their feud may throw us right back to where we started. Theffield knows that.”
And thought to instigate, to complicate the matter. He truly was the worst sort of bastard.
“Explain.”
So much for his reprieve. “I lied to Theffield,” he said, looking straight ahead. “Lady Clarissa is safe, though not at Highgate End, thankfully.”
He was rewarded with the exact response he’d expected.
“Do you aim to start a war, then?”
Aidan navigated an overgrowth of fireweed as he considered how to answer the man. As young men, both he and Graeme had been terrified of the clan chief, their father’s closest friend, even though they’d known him since childhood. As a grown man and warrior, Aidan would like to think he was less intimidated by the man, but the truth was, the king had made an excellent choice when he’d chosen Douglas as Lord Warden.
“Nay, not apurpose.”
He did look at Douglas then. “When she appealed to Lawrence and me to help her escape her father—”
“The man who holds full jurisdiction over her—”
“Held. She is now under the protection of Clan Scott.”
Douglas would kill him yet.
“At the time, the annulment had not yet been granted. I planned to leave her at Sutworth, where the lady could appeal to Dunburg Abbey—”
“A nun?” he growled. “She cannot—”
“She has the gold necessary,” he said, but before Douglas could respond, he added, “but Dunburg lost their benefactor. And so she had nowhere to go—”
“With the exception of Theffield Castle?”
Douglas was angry, and Aidan didn’t blame him. The situation was less than ideal for any of them.
“Her father is a traitorous bastard who—”
“Is her father.”
Aidan had no choice now. He took a deep breath, slowed his mount to a stop, and waited for Douglas to do the same. As the men behind them followed suit, Aidan attempted to keep himself as steady as possible so Douglas could look him in the eye and understand his position.
“And I will be her husband.”
The decision was made. Had been made well before today. Clarissa might be willing to sacrifice herself for a perceived greater good, but he refused to let her. He would not abandon the woman he loved. Ever again.
“Goddammit, de Sowlis. Do you understand what you’ve done?”
“Aye, sire. I understand it well. I’ve fallen in love with a woman who has endured shameful mistreatment from not one but two men who put their greed and selfish desires above her well-being. I understand that by doing so, I’ve put my family, my clan, and our allies in jeopardy. And were my father with us now—” he prayed his father was watching, and listening, because God knew Aidan needed every bit of support he could muster, “—he would curse me for a fool. But he would also honor the pledge I’ve made. A pledge my brother, the chief of our clan, has seconded.”
Aidan could not make his position clearer. Clan Scott would not waver in this. She was as good as one of them, if not yet in name.
“Where is she?”
Lawrence, who had ridden back to join them, spoke up. “With my fam
ily.”
He could have said she was at Bowden Castle. But he had not. Aidan tried not to smile at his friend’s choice of words, which had effectively declared Clan Karyn’s position on the matter.
Douglas looked between the men, his cheeks red, and then indicated they should keep moving. He didn’t speak for a time. And though doubt attempted to creep into his mind, Aidan stopped it. The decision had been made. Mayhap he’d been foolish, but his father had taught them another lesson, one he’d taken to heart.
Doubt was a poison that would eat away at you until none of your convictions remained.
“Theffield will kill you when he finds out what you’ve done,” Douglas said finally.
“He is welcome to try. As long as he does so after the new English warden has been chosen.”
Either way, the outcome would be decided soon enough.
Chapter 19
Aidan was back.
Though no one told her as much, she’d been summoned from her room without explanation, and Clarissa had only left the main keep of Bowden Castle twice in the time she’d stayed here. Once, Lawrence’s sister, one of the loveliest women she’d ever met with the exception of Lady Gillian, had snuck her out late at night. She’d tried to tell the other woman it was not safe, but she’d refused to listen. They only went as far as the interior garden, but Clarissa could not have been more grateful for the reprieve.
Then yesterday, five full nights after she first arrived, she had been startled by a visit from Lawrence’s father, the chief of Clan Karyn. When he ordered her to walk with him, she had not thought to argue. His gruff manners made her uncomfortable at first, but by the time the chief returned Clarissa to her chamber, she was smiling easily, if not often. Though he was kind to her, even after admitting to his dislike of “everything English,” Clarissa could understand the purpose of his visit.
He never said as much, but he clearly worried her presence may cause exactly the kind of trouble Aidan hoped to avoid. His carefully worded questions and looks of concern told her what everyone else denied—Clarissa could start a war.
Or at the very least, prevent one from being avoided.
She should never have asked Aidan to escort her north. It had been the kind of selfish act her father would have committed without self-recrimination. But Clarissa was most certainly not her father.
As she followed the servant from her temporary chamber, through a long corridor and out of a side entrance that led directly to the stables, Clarissa’s pulse began to race. She’d thought of little else besides Aidan these past days, and despite the unease that continued to plague her, the voice in her head that insisted she could not stay with him, Clarissa could not deny the rush of pleasure at the thought of seeing him again.
His back was turned toward her.
Aidan held the reins of both their mounts as he looked off into the distance. Framed by the waning light of day, he appeared every bit the warrior. The sight reminded her of what it had been like to see him on the jousting field after all those years apart. Aidan had sat tall and proud atop his horse, looking into the temporary stands surrounding the field. The excitement of being there had not yet worn off, and she could hardly take in the sights and smells—not all of them pleasant—when he looked at her and everything around her fell away.
“My sister will be sorry she did not see you off.”
She turned, the deep voice from behind startling her out of her reverie. Lawrence walked toward her, grinning at his friend beyond her.
“The great Aidan de Sowlis, taken unaware by a wee slip of a woman.”
When her gaze returned to Aidan, she understood what Lawrence had meant. She’d caught him off guard. He had not noticed her standing there, behind him.
“Come,” Aidan said to her, reaching for her. When he took her hand, she wanted to squeeze and never let go. But he helped her onto the horse, and all too soon, a cool slip of leather replaced his strong warmth. She watched him mount his own horse in one effortless movement, unable to look away, and then realized she had not yet answered Lawrence’s comment.
“Please tell her the pleasure was mine,” she said.
“Until we meet again, my lady.”
Clarissa laughed at Lawrence’s wink, wondering how many ladies he had seduced with that gesture. She’d overheard enough to know Aidan’s friend had something of a reputation.
Did Aidan as well?
Remembering the last time they were alone together, she avoided looking directly at him as they rode side by side back to Highgate End. When she finally did glance his way, Aidan’s head was tilted up toward the sky.
She hadn’t noticed it before, but it seemed just a bit darker than it had a moment before. The air felt heavier too.
“Will we make it to Highgate before the storm?”
In answer, the wind rustled through the trees like crumpled parchment.
“Nay, lass. We will not.”
The sun dipped behind thick gray clouds. Aidan left the path, and Clarissa followed without question. The long sleeves of her simple deep green riding gown kept out the chill that accompanied the quick change in weather. But if it began to rain, an inevitability if the distant rumbling was any indication, they were in for an uncomfortable ride back.
“Hurry,” he said, riding in front of her on a trail that became more and more overgrown as they followed it. Trees surrounded them. She would have asked where they were going, but a loud crack in the sky prevented her from doing so.
In truth, Clarissa was not alarmed. She loved the rain. Loved hearing it patter or pound on the roof as she watched the fat droplets from her window. Loved the feel of it against her skin.
It had been dry as of late, but people usually complained about inclement weather, for any number of reasons. She secretly reveled in the wildness of it. Even now, with the possibility of a soaking very real, she could not drum up much enthusiasm for disappointment.
Another, much louder crack in the air startled her horse. It was decidedly more calming to watch a rainstorm from afar than it was to be in the thick of one.
“Oh!”
The ruins in front of them seemed to appear from out of nowhere. A three-sided structure with only a portion of its roof intact presided over a large ditch and another, lower set of ruins.
“What is it?” she asked, dismounting behind Aidan, aware of his sense of urgency.
“An old Roman fort,” he said, leading their mounts to an open area on the opposite side of the structure. Just as he returned, the first fat drops of rain fell from the sky, and Clarissa did not have to be told where to go. She ran past the ditch and into the only area with a roof. Aidan dove in after her.
As if it had only been waiting for them to find shelter, the sky opened with another loud crack.
The ditch in front of them began to fill as water sluiced from above. Clarissa looked at the puddles and then up as far as she could see from beneath their tenuous shelter. The roof seemed in danger of crumbling at any moment.
Finally, with nothing left to explore, she turned toward him.
Aidan either knew this place well or had no interest in examining it further, for he was already staring at her. Staring in a way that sent her heart straight to her throat. Was he thinking of the intimacies they’d shared? Of his hands on her breasts or—
“I missed you.”
She hadn’t expected that, not from the hungry way he was looking at her. But she couldn’t tell him about the ache of longing that had threatened to consume her while he was away. It would only make it harder . . . later.
“How was the meeting with my father?” Clarissa folded her fingers together in front of her, hoping it would keep them from touching him.
“Not well. He suspects that I am hiding you.”
Clarissa’s fingers flew apart. “Did he say as much? Did he accuse you—”
“I should start from the beginning.”
Listening to his account of the meeting, Clarissa became more and more agitat
ed. They had searched Highgate Castle? She had come so close to being caught. Perhaps it would have been for the best had her father found her.
“Did you hear me?”
Indeed, she had not.
“I’m sorry. I just—”
Clarissa stumbled backward and sat on the crumbling stone bench behind her. Though it, like the entire structure, was beyond repair, enough of the original bench remained to give her a dry seat. Aidan claimed it was safe to return, that her father’s men found nothing, of course, and were long gone. That her father would be beholden to remove Caxton from power, just as he’d promised. They expected to receive word of the warden’s replacement any day. And when that happened, when a new warden was appointed—
“Clarissa?” He sat next to her, the rain continuing to fall around them, and took her hands in his. “I will not allow him to harm you.”
She knew she should pull away. She could not bear to. Instead, she shook her head. “Aidan, you do not understand my father. He will not rest until I am discovered.”
“So be it.”
Her eyes widened.
“Douglas knows our position. Clan Scott—”
“Cannot do this!” Clarissa stood once again, breaking the contact she so desired. He did the same, standing just inches away from her.
“I know you, Aidan,” she said. “You are the protector. Your responsibility is to the clan. If anything goes wrong,” she swallowed, her throat raw, “you will blame me, and rightly so.”
He reached for her again, cupping her face as if it were a fine piece of porcelain.
“You say my responsibility is to the clan. Clarissa, you are one of us. I offered my protection because I could never let anything happen to you. Marry me. Become my wife, and there will be no further questions about where you belong.”
A single tear escaped, unbidden, as his hands branded her. She could no sooner escape their grasp than she could keep running. Nor did she want to. But still, this was not right.
The Guardian’s Favor: Border Series Book Nine Page 14
