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He waited for her to explain, and when she didn’t, he was not feeling generous.

“Allie, what the hell do you mean?”

Her eyes darted to Reid, who’d followed Graeme and Father Simon out of the hall.

“I . . . we talked this morning, in the garden. And . . . oh God, I am so sorry.”

“What . . . did . . . you . . . say . . .”

“It wasn’t until we realized she was gone that I considered our conversation more carefully. We spoke of Covington and . . .” She swallowed hard. “She asked why I did not flee to Highgate End to escape the marriage.”

Aidan didn’t have time for this. “Allie—”

“I . . . told her that I stayed behind because I worried what would happen to Gillian if I broke the betrothal.”

“You told her the truth.”

Allie nodded, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

He reached her in two strides. Wrapping his arms around her, he hugged his sister-in-law. “I would never fault you for telling the truth, Allie. It is not your fault she left. Clarissa has been scared from the moment we met. And ’tis something none of us can overcome for her.”

Releasing her, Aidan left to join the others. They would find her.

She may already be at Burness Abbey. She may already have joined the order.

The thought nearly brought Aidan to his knees. If she was already there, it was by her choice. But if not . . .

God, please do not let any harm come to her.

“Ready?” Graeme asked as he approached them.

He wasn’t, not really, but there was no hope for it. Grateful for his brother, who took charge, sending men out in every northward direction, Aidan mutely followed the others out of the great gatehouse. When Reid and Graeme took off on their respective paths, Aidan continued on his own—the most likely route to Burness Abbey. He told himself to slow down. Putting himself at risk would not help Clarissa’s cause, but his mind kept spinning ever-worsening visions of what could happen to her.

He was so distraught, he very nearly missed it.

Aidan wasn’t sure what made him look down at that exact moment, but he reared up at the sight of a glint of gold. Dismounting, he picked up the ring and immediately recognized it as Clarissa’s. Every hair on his body stood up straight as he searched the area.

Nothing except for dirt upset with the imprint of hoofmarks.

Something had happened.

Back on his horse, Aidan gripped the reins so tightly his knuckles turned white. He’d vowed to protect her, a vow he’d failed to uphold, but Clarissa was out here somewhere, and he would find her. And neither God nor the saints could save anyone who dared harm her.

* * *

“Aye, Jon. I am fine.”

She’d repeated the phrase so many times that Clarissa was sure he did not believe her. Perhaps because it was not exactly true. Her head hurt, but as she touched a finger to it, blood no longer stained her fingers. The small wound had dried, and though she knew little about injuries, Clarissa was sure it was not serious.

When she made the perhaps reckless decision to scramble for the dirk at her captor’s side, the thought of falling and breaking her neck had been real, but also had the visions of what her captor planned for her. He’d stopped briefly, just once, and allowed her to sit up in front of him. That’s when she noticed the dagger. The scene flashed before her again.

His smell nearly gagged her, but more importantly, they were stopped.

It had been the opportunity she’d waited for.

“What in the devil . . .”

Clarissa had stolen the small dagger and jammed it deep into his leg.