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“Ah . . . aye . . . the skin.” Thrusting it into his hands, she watched as Aidan proceeded to clean and wrap Jon’s wound. Or, more precisely, she watched his bare forearms as they worked quickly to bind the fletcher’s shoulder.

When she finally realized Jon was watching her watch Aidan, it was too late. Clarissa turned away from his knowing smile.

“Will he . . . live?” she asked Aidan in an undertone.

He laughed. The man actually laughed.

The devil take him.

“Aye, lass, he’ll live.”

Aidan stood and helped Jon to his feet. “Can you ride?”

Jon nodded. “Aye, milord.”

Aidan walked with him back to his mount. “I will escort the lady north,” he said. “Go back to Highgate and see that wound properly cleaned.”

But though he mounted, Jon did not move to do Aidan’s bidding.

“Can you find Highgate?” Aidan asked Jon.

Jon glanced at Clarissa, as if urging her to speak. She cleared her throat, gaining Aidan’s attention.

He turned to her, and Clarissa could have wept for the trouble she’d caused. Because of her, poor Jon had been wounded by Aidan’s hand. How he’d managed to sink a dirk into the man’s shoulder was a question for another time. She had neither seen nor heard him approach—nor had she seen the dagger that had evidently flown past her head.

Clarissa shuddered.

Aidan watched her.

“Jon and I . . .” She cleared her throat again. “We were not riding north,” she said, her voice shaking, though not nearly as violently as her hands. It was all simply too much.

“We were returning to Highgate End.”

Chapter 26

Clarissa had told him the tale of the reiver who’d attempted to kidnap her, but she hadn’t yet told him why she’d headed back to Highgate rather than north to Burness Abbey. Aidan tightened his arm around her, thinking of how close she’d come to real harm. Without the threat of the Day of Truce to curb their behavior, reivers had begun to slowly reclaim the authority they’d lost over the years.

Raids on fellow clans, enemies, or even allies who had broken promises—those had never truly ceased. But the days of reivers kidnapping women or murdering other travelers for a perceived offense had begun to wane.

“How is your head?” he asked, knowing they were close to Highgate.

“It hurts,” she replied, her voice low. “Aidan, we need to talk.”

“Aye, we do.” He had so many questions, he didn’t know where to start. So he remained silent, letting himself soak in the relief that she was okay, as they rode up to the gatehouse. Jon had refused Aidan’s offer to be seen by Highgate’s physician. He shrugged off the injury, saying he deserved the punishment for attempting to deceive Lady Clarissa.

Allie came running toward them the moment they entered the inner ward, reaching them as they arrived at the stable. “Oh dear. Aidan . . . you’ve lost your shirt.”

Aidan dismounted, whispered something to Allie, and helped Clarissa dismount as well. Then he looked down, feigning surprise.

“I’d not noticed,” he said, but Allie was not listening to him. She’d thrown her arms around Clarissa, and the two embraced as if they’d not seen each other in some time. When Allie began to cry, Clarissa looked at him with wide eyes. His chest constricted as he realized that no one had likely ever expressed that type of emotion over her before.

“I am so glad you’ve returned,” Allie said. “We were worried. Graeme came back from the abbey just moments before you arrived. When he said you were not at Burness . . . this was all my fault. Don’t shake your head at me, Aidan. It was my fault. I am so, so sorry.”

Allie hugged her again, and Aidan waited not so patiently for his sister-in-law to allow Clarissa to breathe.

“Are you here to stay?” Allie asked.

Every muscle in Aidan’s body tensed as he awaited her answer. She’d left him, again. Even so . . .