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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.
