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Instead, he fell silent.He would not deny a woman who pleaded for help. Even this woman.

Especially this woman.

When a pair of Galloways appeared atop the ridge in front of them, Aidan raised a fist in the air. His men quickly caught up with him, and Lawrence appeared at his side.

“Do you recognize them?” Lawrence asked.

Their distinct ponies marked them as reivers, but as the men approached, Aidan shook his head. He had not come across these two before. “Nay, but there appears to be only the pair of them.”

It was unusual for border reivers to travel in small numbers, so they waited, and watched, to see if others would appear. When they did not, and the reivers rode by them, a nod and wave their only greeting, Aidan took his hand from the dirk at his side.

“Two,” Lawrence said. “Most unusual.”

Though he agreed, he did not wish to further alarm Clarissa. “They don’t appear to pose a threat,” he said.

Lawrence looked over at them, the question in his eyes one Aidan couldn’t yet fully answer. He knew of Clarissa, of course, but never met her before. His friend had not attended the Tournament of the North that year. The chief of Clan Karyn, Lawrence’s father, had taken ill. Though he had recovered, Lawrence had missed the one opportunity each year for Scottish warriors and English knights to come together and fight, as peaceably as possible. Deaths still occurred each year, as they did at all tournaments, but it was a tradition that brought people together across the border—one that would be jeopardized by a breakdown of the peace.

Unless her father deemed it in his interest to help them. An unlikely event if he discovered Aidan had absconded with his daughter.

Pushing the disturbing thought aside, he indicated for the men to keep moving. They hadn’t traveled very far when he heard the faintest of whispers.

“I’m sorry.”

She’d not turned around, but Aidan heard the words distinctly.

He didn’t want to know, he told himself. It mattered naught. She was married. And he would never be. So when he blurted out, “Why?” it was a surprise even to himself.

She wiggled forward, Aidan swallowing hard at the movement, and reached up to remove her hood. The moment she did, a mass of straight brown hair was revealed. He didn’t mean to inhale, but the scent of roses assaulted him.

She turned to him then, and if a band of fifty reivers had come at them in that moment, Aidan wouldn’t have had the composure to reach for his sword. He did not know what he’d done to deserve this. But God was punishing him, to be sure.

“I wanted to come that day,” she began. “To meet you . . .”

He thought, for the briefest of moments, he wanted to hear this. But he simply couldn’t bear it.

“Lawrence,” he called. His friend appeared by their side moments later. Aidan slowed to a stop, lifted Clarissa from her position nearly on his lap, and lowered her to the ground. As soon as she realized what he was about, she eagerly assisted him. It seemed he wasn’t the only one anxious to put distance between them.

Then perhaps you should have asked another for assistance.

Just as he was about to tell Lawrence to take her, Aidan changed his mind.

“Tell the men to get off the road.”

There was nothing to recommend this as a good place to stop. No water for the horses or even cover for the men. But he could not simply keep riding toward the border without knowing what the hell was happening with Clarissa.

Handing his reins to his confused companion, Aidan walked a short distance away, turning back to Clarissa, who lifted her gown and followed.

“I will know. Now.”

She swallowed. “I made a grave mistake,” she said, her voice shaky. “Instead of keeping it secret, as we agreed—”

“Not that.” His voice had a hard edge he scarcely recognized. Aidan had always been able to command attention without raising his volume. He was respected despite it, or maybe because of it. But she had the ability, it seemed, to bring out a part of him that he wasn’t sure he liked.

“This.” He gestured around them.

“As I said, I will explain—”

“You will explain now.”