The Guardian’s Favor: Border Series Book Nine

by Mecca, Cecelia

“Aye, who else? Did you not speak to him then?”

  “Nay,” she said, her hands resuming their ministrations. “He must have left that tray for me while I was asleep.”

  “Forgive my impertinence, my lady, but it would not surprise me that he should do such a thing. Most men of his station would not serve those under him, serve a woman, if you’ll forgive me for saying so. But it is not so with Aidan.”

  “Why do you say so?”

  Lewis wiped his hands on his tunic and reached for the dough she’d finished kneading. Handing it to him, she watched in fascination as he quickly formed the sticky mass into what would become another trencher for the midday or evening meal.

  “When his mother was ill, God rest her soul, my lord refused to leave her chamber. All of us were deeply affected when she passed, but none more so than he. There is no man kinder, or more loyal.” Lewis, who’d already finished shaping the trencher, started to move each of his creations to the stone that sat in front of the large, fire-stoked oven.

  “There was no need to be a seer like my sister to know he’d find someone to love.”

  Love.

  “A seer?”

  Lewis had a sister? Clarissa knew his wife was Highgate’s alewife, but she’d not heard of a sister.

  “She fancies herself one,” he said, placing the last piece of dough near the oven. “But can hardly see the grass in front of her feet.”

  Lewis laughed at his own jest. She could not help but chuckle as well as she awaited the answer to her question.

  “Or it could be this ol’ man just knows the way of things.”

  Something told her he was being coy.

  “Lewis?”

  He shrugged, pulling a large sack of flour toward him.

  “Or it could be that when we first met, I could see the truth in his eyes. And yours.”

  Everything Lewis said was true. Aidan truly was the kindest man alive, and she could not be the one to break his heart. Enough running. Enough hiding. Clarissa was ready to claim her place in this clan.

  * * *

  Aidan knocked at Clarissa’s door, glancing at the man who stood beside him. Tall and lean, he was not much older than Graeme, though his experiences lent him an undeniable air of knowledge. Aidan had known Father Simon for as long as the man had been at Brockburg, back when his brother was betrothed to Catrina Kerr. From allies to enemies to allies once again, Clan Scott and Clan Kerr had a generations-long history, which had seen their families through the devastating loss of both chiefs, the unfortunate accident in battle that had ended their alliance and, more recently, a renewed friendship.

  “Aidan? I’m glad you’re here, I’ve something—”

  She noticed Father Simon then, their unexpected guest bowing his head in deference to her, as befitted her station as an earl’s daughter, even though such a gesture was not necessary. A more affable, tolerant, and intelligent man could not be found in all of Scotland, which was the precise reason Aidan had called on him for assistance.

  “Oh!”

  “Lady Clarissa, meet Father Simon of Brockburg. Father, may I present Lady Clarissa Harford, daughter of the Earl of Theffield.”

  Her curtsy was precise, that of an Englishwoman who had been trained her entire life to make such a greeting. She wore a gown Aidan had not seen before, a deep cranberry confection trimmed with gold around the low-hanging sleeves and neckline. A simple gold belt hung low on her hips. Her hair, as always, was pulled back partially on both sides away from her face with the majority of it falling down her back. Simple yet elegant, this was the lady who’d enchanted him. Though more refined than most, she lacked the air of superiority some in her station wore like a cloak.

  “May we come inside?” he asked, and Clarissa immediately stepped aside.

  The perfectly neat chamber smelled sweet, like its lady. A comfortable prison, but a prison nonetheless.

  “Of course,” she said, though they had already made their way inside. “I would offer you a seat . . .”

  But there was one sole chair in the sparsely furnished room.

  “No need,” he said, changing his mind. Aidan had thought to leave her with Father Simon—to allow them to speak in private—but now he found his feet unable to move. Though Clarissa had agreed to stay at Highgate, to become his wife, he was no fool. His brother had confirmed earlier that day what he’d already suspected. Clarissa was as skittish as a hart knowing it was being hunted.

  “I thought to send a message, but Lady Allie insisted on coming to speak with you,” Father Simon said.

  He could see Clarissa was confused and thought to explain. “I told you of my sister-in-law.” Clarissa nodded. “She and her husband accompanied Father Simon here, though I’ve not seen them yet. Father has the reputation of being a somewhat reckless rider—”

  “I arrived before them,” Father boasted.

  Aidan smiled at Brockburg’s priest. “As for your vows against pride—”

  “I took no such vow.” He pretended to consider the matter further. “In fact, as I think on it, there may have been something . . .”

  “Some say his time with the Kerr men has made Father—”

  “I believe we are here to discuss Lady Clarissa.”

  The lady in question waited, hands folded in front of her. Aidan could not seem to look away from the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. Every day she spent away from Theffield, she became bolder, freer—more like the woman who’d boldly agreed to meet him at that lake than the one who’d looked up at him in fear in Theffield’s courtyard, begging him to help her.

  “Indeed,” she said, looking at him. This look, no longer amused, was laced with the same desire he’d awoken feeling that morn, thinking of . . . well, things he should not be thinking of in front of the priest.

  “Burness Abbey is a daughter house of Thrustan Abbey, no more than thirty miles north of here,” Father Simon said. “Though it was built by King David and has received royal support for more than a hundred and fifty years, the Order of Cistercian nuns there have come upon difficult times of late.”

  Aidan had heard the tale already on their way to find Clarissa. He’d not yet told Father his assistance was no longer needed, as it was Clarissa’s place to do so. His mother’s words had guided him in this: Speak for no one but yourself, and most especially not for a woman. She’d said it so many times that even his stubborn father had begun to listen to her—no small feat given the chief’s inclination had been to solve the problems of everyone around him. Even so, hearing Father’s words aloud, watching her face as she realized what they implied . . .

  Would she change her mind?

  “They are eager to meet you,” Father Simon finished. “And I am glad to take you there myself.”

  A heaviness settled in Aidan’s stomach as he awaited her answer.

  “I . . . this is quite unexpected,” she began.

  He couldn’t do it.

  Though the choice was hers, the thought of her accepting the priest’s offer made him speak up.

  “Your companions should have arrived by now,” he interrupted. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation in the hall over a meal. When I received word of your arrival, supper was about to be served.”

  If Father Simon was startled by the abrupt change in agenda—Aidan was the one who’d suggested an immediate meeting with Clarissa—he covered it well. His good manners dictated he would accept the offer of a meal.

  And he did.

  “Very good,” he said. “We shall discuss the particulars this evening—”

  “And you will stay for the night, of course.”

  “Aye,” Father said, confirming what Aidan already knew. The timing of the visit practically ensured it. But he simply could not shake the need to get Father Simon away from Clarissa.

  “Come with us,” he offered, certain she would decline. She’d remained in hiding these last days, at her own volition, after all.

  “With pleasure.”

  He almost
tripped over his own feet, his eyes darting to her face. Her shaky smile did not fool him. Clarissa was terrified, though he didn’t know if it was Father Simon’s offer that unsettled her or her decision to dine in the great hall.

  What had changed her mind?

  Dare he hope it was her acceptance of their situation? He knew Clarissa had spent the day with Lewis, and though he’d begun to make his way to the bakehouse not once but twice, he’d stopped himself both times. She’d always wished to learn how to bake, and he did not want to distract her from the experience—one she’d never been allowed before. So he spent the day training with his men, attempting not to think of her.

  Attempting, but failing.

  “Shall I send someone—”

  “Nay, I am ready,” she said, her shaky voice betraying her words.

  Father Simon did not appear to notice. Aidan raised his hand, an indication for the priest to walk ahead, and then offered his arm to Clarissa. When she took it, slipping her hand through the crook of his elbow as he escorted her from the room, Aidan resisted the urge to pull her closer.

  He smiled at the thought of how the others would react.

  Lady Clarissa was about to be properly introduced to Highgate Castle.

  Chapter 22

  They’d somehow avoided the discussion that Clarissa knew was necessary. She would tell Father Simon no, but she had not yet mustered the strength to do so. And so she ignored his inquisitive looks and attempted to enjoy her evening.

  An easy feat while sitting between Gillian and Allie.

  When they’d first walked through the doors of the great hall, a stunned silence had descended over the room. Clarissa had done her best to ignore the fuss by concentrating on the differences between the great halls in Theffield and Highgate—while the former was a place for the men to simply gather and eat each day, the latter was a warm, inviting space filled with laughter. Then Gillian and Allie whisked her into the fold, and she spent the rest of the meal listening to the two women tell stories of their time here at Highgate.

  If they were trying to convince her it was a magical place from which no one would choose to leave, Clarissa needed no convincing. There was nowhere she would rather be than here, surrounded by love.

  Aidan sat next to Allie’s husband, but she darted glances at him throughout the meal. His eyes always seemed to be on her whenever she looked over.

  Once, when she caught him staring, she lifted the corners of her lips in a smile meant to reassure him nothing had changed. If she’d thought for a brief moment Father Simon was the answer to her prayers, it was only because she doubted the sanity of her decision. Marrying Aidan was likely not the right thing to do. In fact, it felt utterly selfish. She found herself looking at Father Simon, wondering how much he knew. Did he suspect she had changed her mind?

  Would he approve of their decision?

  “She’s not listening.”

  “When Reid was pursuing you, did you listen to anyone else when he was in the room? Even after I explicitly forbade you to even glance his way.”

  They were speaking to her. Or rather about her.

  “You forbade Allie to speak to Reid?” she asked.

  Allie grimaced, pushing away the trencher she shared with her husband.

  “She did. Would you care to enlighten our guest with your recollection of when Highgate End hosted the council—”

  “I remember the event well,” Gillian said, turning to Clarissa. “I’d met Reid once before, at The Wild Boar, and he was, how shall I put this delicately—”

  “A complete arse,” the man in question interrupted.

  Clearly he’d been listening to their conversation—with some amusement, it would seem. But when Clarissa attempted to look at him, she met Aidan’s eyes instead.

  “You’re being kind,” Gillian teased Reid. “I’d have used a stronger word, but it will do.”

  Allie sat back, lifting a cup of wine to her lips. She was clearly enjoying the memory, or at least her sister’s retelling of it.

  Gillian frowned. “I knew immediately she was attracted to him—”

  “And still is.”

  “Reid,” Gillian admonished. “Would you please allow me to finish?”

  The rogue, for certainly that was the best word to describe him, lifted his mug in silent acquiescence.

  “And I will admit to being a mite stubborn about his pursuit of my sister—”

  “Or her pursuit of me,” Reid said.

  This time it was Allie who intervened, swatting her husband on the arm. In response, he pulled her toward him and kissed her. To imagine such a thing! In front of a room full of men . . . and the kiss was no small peck on the cheek. In fact, he stopped only when the banging of mugs and cheers became so loud they were impossible to ignore.

  “As I was saying . . .” Gillian smiled. “I was convinced Reid was not the best choice of a husband for Allie.”

  After what she’d just witnessed, Clarissa was inclined to disagree.

  “But being the mature and thoughtful sister that I am—”

  “Ha! You hated him until the very moment he begged you to reconsider his suit. And perhaps afterward for a time as well.”

  For a man whose honor was being maligned, Reid seemed to be taking it all quite well. In fact, he appeared to be enjoying it. Or at least, he enjoyed sitting next to his wife.

  All had turned out quite well for them.

  Clarissa looked at Aidan again, unable to resist.

  He watched the couple as she had been doing. Was he thinking about their situation too? But they were not Allie and Reid. Allie had risked angering her sister. Clarissa risked angering an entire force of well-trained knights under the brutal guidance of a man who hated her. Or at least, thought no more of her than he would his prized warhorse.

  Nay, that probably overstated her importance to her father.

  “Well, I do not hate him now,” Gillian said. “In fact, I believe I’ve said this on more than one occasion, but I was wrong. You are, in fact, the most beautiful of couples.”

  “I’ve said the same for years,” said the deep voice that fluttered Clarissa’s insides. “Reid Kerr is the most beautiful man I know.” It was the first he’d spoken at the meal.

  Everyone at the head table laughed, and none harder than the man at the center of the jest. When Reid looked at his wife, his expression was unmistakable. At least, it was unmistakable to her now. Clarissa knew what it was like to be looked at with desire. With love.

  The youngest Kerr stood, pulling Allie up with him.

  “Many thanks for a fine meal,” he said. “And for your offer to stay for the evening.”

  He pretended to yawn. “It has been a long journey—”

  Again, everyone laughed, knowing it was anything but. Even Father Simon appeared amused.

  “And my wife tires easily—”

  “Reid!”

  Despite her admonition, she stood and took her husband’s hand.

  “I bid you all a fond farewell for the night,” Reid said, taking Allie’s hand. With that, the couple descended the stairs of the dais and left the hall amidst the sound of mugs once again pounding on the tables.

  Another sound she could never remember hearing at Theffield. And she dared not even consider her time with Lord Stanley, his home even colder and less hospitable than Theffield. Clarissa would prefer to forget she had ever been the wife of such a man.

  She wanted this.

  Clarissa wanted what Reid and Allie had, and she wanted it with Aidan. From his expression, he was thinking the same.

  Clarissa finished her meal in silence, allowing the others around her to guide the conversation. By the time the sweets were cleared, Father Simon had also retired, leaving her with Graeme, Aidan, and Gillian.

  “I meant to ask earlier,” Gillian said. “Would you like to have your belongings brought into the main keep? There is an empty chamber—”

  “Nay,” she said, too quickly. Before Aidan could question
her motives, she amended, “I am quite comfortable in the Prison Tower for now.”

  “We really must rename it,” Graeme said to Aidan. “It’s not been a prison for some years.”

  Aidan didn’t answer. He was watching her, and God help her, Clarissa could not resist him. He looked at her as a man starved, and she understood completely—she felt the same way.

  “Shall I escort you to your chamber?”

  “Nay,” Gillian interrupted. “I will escort her. If she will allow it?”

  Clarissa looked from Aidan to Gillian, not understanding what was happening. Something was afoot, though perhaps this was for the best. She needed time to think, and if there was one thing she could not do with Aidan afoot, it was thinking clearly.

  “Of course, I would be honored,” she said, standing. “Graeme, Aidan.”

  Clarissa caught the look Graeme gave his wife as he bid them good eve. It was a look of promise. A look she was beginning to know well.

  “Good eve, ladies,” Aidan said, standing. “We shall speak in the morning.”

  “Aye,” Clarissa said. “We shall indeed.”

  In the meantime, Clarissa had some questions for Gillian.

  * * *

  Aidan couldn’t sleep.

  He’d tried, and failed, finally giving in to the urge to rise despite the early hour. Dressing quickly, he made his way to the great hall. It was still dark outside, the castle mostly still slumbering, with the exception of a few inhabitants whose jobs required an early start. His brother sometimes rose early as well, but Graeme was nowhere to be seen. Aidan walked without knowing where he was going, surprised to find himself in the quiet of Highgate’s modest chapel. He used to take mass each morning, though he’d never done so with the vigor of his mother, who’d credited all that happened in the world to the hand of God. Even when she had been too ill to walk to the chapel, she’d insisted on receiving communion each day in her chamber.

  The will of God, she’d called her sickness.

  He hadn’t come back since.

  He knelt at the altar, the smell of incense reminding him of their new priest, one whom Aidan did not care for. They’d spoken of replacing the man—his judgmental stare was the most pleasant thing about him—but Graeme was hesitant to do so.