Page 109
At first he’d dismissed her fear. Lord Edmund, or anyone they met for that matter, could talk about the rebellion all they wanted. It was over. No one was looking for Clara or any of the others who’d sided against the crown.
But then he’d forced himself to imagine what it must have been like for her, a girl of only ten and eight, to watch her father murdered in front of her—the helplessness of it. He’d thought of the years she’d spent on the run, hiding, worried about losing her life if discovered.
He had been wrong to push her. If Clara needed more time, so be it. They could wait to be married until she felt safe. Or until she began to show a babe in her stomach. He loved her enough to go along with any plan she devised.
Except, of course, for this one.
The moment Emma hurried out into the yard, he’d known. . . he’d run back to the keep to verify what she’d told him, and as he stared down at the gown Clara had worn earlier that day, fear crawled through his body.
“Alfred’s clothing is gone,” Emma confirmed breathlessly, answering his next question.
Sara and Geoffrey followed them into the room, and after Emma relayed the previous evening’s conversation, they all understood that she’d run away.
“I never imagined—”
Sara looked especially pale, and Alex knew she blamed herself.
“How would you know that pompous old man—”
Sara’s narrowed eyes cut Geoffrey’s thoughts short.
For the briefest of moments, Alex thought back to the horror he’d experienced upon learning his mother had left them. But she’d done so for a good reason, as had Clara. How could he have missed the signs? She’d refused to see him last night, and this morning she’d pushed him away, knowing all along that she planned to leave.
“She talked to you today,” Emma began, the panic in her voice not making him feel better about the situation.
“Aye,” he said, not willing to divulge much else. “She didn’t say anything to you about leaving?”
Emma shook her head as she looked around the room. “Nothing of import. I know she was still upset about last eve but. . . oh Clara, I’m so sorry,” she said.
“We’ll find her,” Alex said.
Geoffrey and Sara began to leave, but Emma stopped Alex before he could follow them.
“She’s trying to protect us.”
“I know.”
Years of training forced him to remain calm when he wanted to do anything but.
“Alex?” Emma looked as if she wanted to say more, but her mouth opened and closed a couple of times without any words coming out.
“Do you know where she is? Where she could have gone?”
“No, I’m sorry, I do not.”
He waited, hoping she would tell him something, anything, to help him find her.
“You need to find her. She loves you.”
That was not at all what he’d expected to hear.
“Did she tell you that?”
They’d never talked about love. He’d meant to tell her how he felt, but something had always interrupted him.
“She didn’t have to. Her feelings—your feelings—are obvious. Please. . . please find her,” she begged.
She left the room, and he stood alone for a moment, thinking of Emma’s words.
