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Allie looked down at her hands. “I could have. Gillian came to England to fetch me, insisting I do just that.”

“But you refused?”

Allie shook her head. “Aye. In a way. I led her to believe I had a plan to escape, but my only plan was to protect Gillian. Had she brought me here, she would have endangered her relationship with Graeme, and who knows how Covington would have retaliated. I could have lived with being the cause of my parents losing Lyndwood, but not with that. Of course,” she added, turning toward her, “the whole thing was my father’s fault . . .”

But Clarissa wasn’t listening.

Whether she realized it or not, Allie had shifted Clarissa’s perspective. What she wanted . . . well, that was clear. She wanted to become the wife of a man willing to risk everything for her. But if she got what she wanted, the very place she wished to call home might crumble to the ground. The very people she loved would be imperiled.

Clarissa felt as if she’d run into the stone wall beside her. Her heartbeat quickened as she thought of what she must do.

“Clarissa?” Allie asked, her voice strained. “Do you need—”

She stood. “I need to speak to Aidan.”

“Good,” Allie said with a grin. “You should speak with him. I’ve made a mess of it, but I sought you out to tell you Aidan loves you. I think he always has. And we could not be more pleased by his choice.”

Clarissa hated to deceive someone who had been nothing but kind to her. But if she told Allie what she planned, she would attempt to talk her out of it.

“When are you leaving?” And then, realizing she may have sounded too hopeful, she added, “I meant to ask, will you be staying for much longer?”

“Nay,” Allie said, standing with her. “Reid wants to get back, to await word of Caxton and make plans for the next Day of Truce.”

Clarissa squared her shoulders. With any luck, her father would honor his agreement and there would be a next Day of Truce.

“I understand,” she said.

And I understand what I must do.

* * *

Aidan looked everywhere for Clarissa before finally going into the hall to break his fast. He hoped she would eventually join them as she’d done the night before, but she did not. He would have left the meal early to search for her had Allie not stayed him.

“Let her be,” she had said. “Clarissa will come when she’s ready. I know she loves you.”

But she never did—and Father Simon was also suspiciously absent from the meal. Despite his thin frame, the priest could eat. He’d just as soon miss mass than a meal, yet there was no sign of him.

Now, as Aidan stood by the keep’s front entrance with Allie and Reid, who were preparing to leave, he looked at the woman he loved in horror. She walked toward him with the missing priest.

He knew at once she’d changed her mind.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said as she approached him.

Aidan tried not to let his annoyance show. “I was in the hall, breaking my fast. With nearly every other person here—”

“I will leave you alone,” Father Simon said. “With luck, there are a few scraps from that meal you mentioned . . .” The quickness with which he scurried away confirmed that the worst had indeed happened.

Allie and Reid also wandered away.

“Please,” she said, ushering them to a more private space, an alcove under the covered walkway that ran the length of the keep. “Please listen to me.”

His whole body tensed. Listen to her? Nay, she could not ask him to do that, not when—

“I love you,” she began.

“So much so that you are leaving with Father Simon?”

When she did not disagree, blood pulsed through him and his hands began to shake.