Page 78

Pushing aside the selfish thought, she narrowed her eyes at her directionally challenged guide.

“We will find it. Together.”

She was no fool. Though he may not know where to go, Clarissa knew better than to ride to Burness alone. They were likely no longer on Clan Scott land, and the fear Aidan had instilled in her was healthy enough for Clarissa to forgo a ring she’d intended to give the abbess in exchange for even an unreliable escort.

Listening for her “guide” behind her, Clarissa rode ahead and hoped they were at least traveling in the right direction. “Are we traveling north?” she asked as Jon rode up beside her.

“We are, my lady.”

In that he appeared quite confident. Trusting his words, Clarissa fell silent, concentrating on the sound of their horses’ hooves as they met the dirt and rocks below them. At least, she attempted to do so. Her thoughts stubbornly refused to be distracted by anything other than . . . him.

It struck her that every time someone in Aidan’s life had spoken to her of him, their message had been much the same. He loved her. He’d never acted like this with anyone before. He was a good man.

None of them had faulted her for being English. None had railed at her for being the daughter of the Earl of Theffield.

She was the only one who’d questioned her presence in his life.

But it’s selfish to love him when it puts so many in danger.

“Do you trust me to keep you safe?” he’d asked. And she’d said she did. Of course she did. But maybe he was right. If she truly trusted him, why didn’t she also trust him to decide the best way forward for his clan?

Because he is thinking with his heart.

A heart so big and full of love, one she’d stabbed as surely as if she’d taken his prized dagger and plunged it into him. Clarissa cringed at the image of how his joyful face must have dropped the moment he learned she was gone, for he certainly would know by now.

Oh God, what have I done?

“My lady!”

But the false reeve’s warning had come too late. By the time she realized what was happening, an arm had already snaked around her waist.

She struggled as her attacker plucked her off her horse and flung her across his own lap. For a wild moment, she thought perhaps it was . . . nay. When she strained her neck around, she saw the man was most definitely not Aidan. She didn’t recognize him.

Smiling, his teeth as crooked as his grin, he pushed her back against his saddle, which cut into her stomach, jolting her with each step. As she tried to struggle, the pain only increased. But she would not stop trying. She might break her neck, but if Clarissa managed to get away from him . . .

Her last thought after her captor slammed his elbow into the back of her head was that she had made a horrible, terrible, life-ending mistake.

Chapter 25

“We have to find her.”

Aidan stood in the hall with his sisters-in-law, Graeme, and Father Simon. He’d already wasted too much time waiting in the bakehouse for Clarissa to arrive. Perhaps he’d still be there, broken, if Allie hadn’t found him.

The dull ache in his chest had turned to raw fear in an instant. He’d assumed she was with Reid and Allie, that his silver-tongued Clarissa had convinced them to take her to Burness Abbey. Upon realizing the awful truth—that she’d gone alone—he’d gathered the others together to arrange a rescue mission. Aye, they needed to find her, but there were multiple roads she could have taken.

“I will take the old Roman road,” he announced. “Graeme—”

“North Ridge Way,” his brother said. “Let’s go.”

“We’ll send others on less likely paths, to be safe.”

“Aidan, wait.”

He and Graeme were already heading for the door when Allie stopped him.

“There’s no time.”

“You should know . . . this may be my fault,” Allie blurted.