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“I . . . I must speak to Aidan,” she said.

Disappointment knifed him in the gut. So she’d only returned for a temporary respite from her adventures. Clarissa was still planning to leave.

Aidan turned from the women—

“Wait,” Clarissa called out.

But he could not do this now. “See to her head,” he called back to Allie.

Aidan didn’t know where he was going. He knew only he could not talk to her. She’d torn his heart from his chest, twice, and he’d be damned if he would let her do it again.

Clarissa followed him.

He spun around. “When you leave next time, please take an escort. Promise me, Clarissa.”

“But, Aidan, I—”

This time, he did not stop. Aidan stormed up to the door of the main keep and opened the door himself. He strode through it and kept going. He’d found her, and she was safe.

That was all that mattered. The rest was not his to decide.

“Dammit,” he cursed, making his way toward his chamber. He needed a shirt. And a drink. Nay, he needed more than that, but a shirt and an ale would do for now.

The soft sound of footfalls reached his ears.

“Aidan.”

He stopped, closed his eyes, and attempted to calm his rapidly beating heart.

“Aidan . . . ,” she repeated.

He didn’t expect her to touch him, so when she laid a hand on his back, just below his shoulder, he didn’t have time to temper his reaction. His heart beat at what was surely a dangerous pace.

“I don’t need an escort to Burness Abbey.”

His fingers ached with the need to touch her back.

“Did you hear me? Aidan, I’m sorry. I should not have left.”

They were the words he’d wanted to hear on their way back to Highgate. The words he had not dared hope for. He simply had to turn around, grab her hand and make her his. Now. This very moment.

So simple.

He stepped forward, away from her, instead.

“Nay, lass,” he agreed. “You should not have left.”

And then he walked away.

* * *

She deserved that.

Clarissa sagged against the stone wall in the hall, her feet unable to move, her body heavy.

She’d hurt him again, as she’d known she would. Terribly. Before, he’d been able to blame her father for taking her away. This time, there was no one to blame but herself.

“Clarissa?”