Page 15

He seemed pleased by her declaration. With a shout from Aidan, they rode on until marshland turned into a patch of trees.

“There,” he shouted again, and everyone came to a stop. Dismounting, Lawrence lifted her off his horse and set her gently onto the ground. She eyed the tree line longingly, and when some of the men brought their mounts into the thicket, Clarissa ached to follow. But how exactly did one ask delicately to relieve themselves?

“Come with me.”

Aidan appeared from behind her, and she was more than happy to comply. He didn’t speak as he led her deeper into the dark woods, the sound of running water not far from them. Presumably, it was why they’d stopped here.

“You may use the high bushes there.”

Swallowing her fear, Clarissa moved toward them as if being enveloped in darkness in the middle of a dense forest in the borderlands were something she’d done many times before.

She finished quickly, relieved to find Aidan just where she’d left him.

Dressed in a simple tunic and trewes, his ever-present dirk strapped to his side, he looked more like a warrior than a knight. Which, of course, he was.

“Are you hungry?”

She nodded. In fact, she’d not eaten all day, and hardly at all the day before.

“Come,” he said, turning back toward the others, “I have—”

“Wait.”

When he did as she asked, Clarissa immediately regretted the simple word. Though every part of her wanted to pour out her story, tell him what had happened that night, why she never came . . . the look on his face stopped her. He was not angry, precisely, but nor was there any special regard in his gaze. He stared back at her as if she were a woman like any other, waiting only because she’d commanded him to do so.

“I wanted to thank you,” she began. Once again, it was a different speech than the one she’d intended, but the words needed to be said. “I know you take a risk to escort me—”

“Lass, if you knew the risk, you’d not have asked for this.”

What was she supposed to say to that?

“Douglas hoped our neighborly ties would endear your father to me more than most—”

She laughed, not meaning to do so. “My father is endeared to no one.”

If she had been born a boy, perhaps things would have been different. Or if she’d not “killed her mother coming into the world.”

“As you say, but he gave my clan the burden anyway.”

The burden of treating with her father. “You hope he will convince Lord Caxton to step down as warden?”

She’d met the English Warden of the Middle March on more than one occasion. And while she would never presume to know a man’s intentions, it did not seem likely this one would step down willingly. A favorite of the king, his reputation was as a man who enjoyed skirting the law . . . not one who cared about the opinion of the Scots across the border.

“Nay,” he said, “to force him to do so.”

She’d have laughed again, but Aidan appeared to be serious.

“He will not do it,” she said with conviction. “My father—”

“This is the last chance at peace.”

“But he is one man. Surely—”

“We must get back.” He turned from her once again.

Before she could think better of it, Clarissa’s hand shot out to grab his arm. “But wait—”

He did not attempt to remove her hand, and she did not wish to pull away.