No one questioned his presence. In fact, everyone seemed as enthralled by Aidan as she was. After a tour of Sutworth, one she was hardly qualified to offer considering how infrequently she’d been here growing up, they stood upon the wall-walk of the southeast tower, looking out at the impressive view and talking. He did not move to hold her hand again, wise given they could be seen, if not heard, by at least one guard. But she almost wished he had done so anyway.

If not for the shadow cast by his impending leave-taking, this would have been the happiest day of her life. He laughed to learn how she’d gotten away from her father to meet him during the tournament, though it had been nothing more than her “using the time to pray,” a practice with which he always approved. She smiled at his memory of their first encounter years before. He claimed to have been drawn to her then, and if she had not felt the same way, Clarissa may not have been inclined to believe him.

Rather than sit at the head table in the hall, on display in front of people she hardly knew, Clarissa asked for their evening meal to be brought to the solar. According to custom, the small, private room was located just off the master bedchamber on the second floor of the keep. Courtesy of its shuttered windows, which had been thrown open upon her arrival, it was one of the best-lit chambers in the manor. Both the solar and master chamber had been freshly scrubbed and prepared for her. She’d thought of asking for another chamber to sleep in instead, but apparently no one thought of the room as her father’s.

But darkness had fallen, and after they finished their repast, it was time for him to leave. For a moment at the meal, she had put aside all but the ease with which they sat side by side, conversing.

“May I return again tomorrow?”

Clara held her breath when they stood. Aidan had come alone, and though he insisted he was quite safe on both Sutworth and Clan Scott land, she knew reivers preferred to ride by moonlight. Emboldened by the current political climate, they grew more active and aggressive each day.

I should say no.

“Aye. I would like that, but won’t your brother be angry?”

They’d talked about what it meant, him being here, and she knew Aidan recognized the dangers. Evidently, his brother thought him foolish.

“He will.”

His gaze, unwavering, did not make her feel uncomfortable. Just the opposite, in fact. She could not look away. She’d noticed his eyes turned more green when he looked at her this way.

Her pulse raced as the implication of his words penetrated. He should not be here and should definitely not return. But he would anyway.

And at that moment, Clarissa never wanted anything more than Aidan de Sowlis to lean over and kiss her. She’d thought of their kiss by the lake on so many lonely nights. Had memory served her well, or would it be disappointing? Somehow she doubted it.

“If you only knew how much I want it too,” he said.

Oh dear! Clarissa had been caught staring at his lips. Rather than deny it, she met his eyes once again and said, “I’ve thought of it so many times. It was my first, and only, kiss.”

His eyes narrowed. “Your husband?”

“Never touched me in that way.”

Though he had poised himself above her, his white skin gleaming in the darkness of their chamber, he’d never kissed her. Never caressed her. She’d not wanted to look down, to look at him, but she had been unable to stop herself.

Clarissa shuddered at the memory.

“What did he do to you?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

He reached out so quickly she hardly had time to react. His hand splayed across her cheek, the soft caress of a lover. Clarissa closed her eyes at the touch, attempting to remember it so she could keep it with her forever.

“I would kiss you,” he said. “If you were mine to kiss.”

Her eyes flew open.

“And it would not be as chaste as the one we shared by the lake.”

Chaste? What did he mean by that? The soft touch of his lips had been perfect, and every day they’d spent together she had wished to repeat it.

As Clarissa’s lips parted, his thumb edged closer and closer to them until it rested on the very edge of her lower lip. When he ran his thumb across her lip, a pool of heat filled her very core. She wanted . . .

And then he dropped his hand away, stood back from her and closed his eyes.

“Aidan?”

That feeling . . . when he’d touched her . . .

“What are we doing?” he asked, his voice strained.

She didn’t think he would appreciate “falling in love, again” for an answer. Or maybe she’d never stopped loving him.

“I don’t know how long it will be until we receive word from Dunburg,” she said instead. “And if my father learns of my whereabouts first . . .”

He likely did not even realize that his hand was shifting toward his side. When he was angry, Aidan’s hand crept closer to the dirk that never left his hip. She’d noticed that as they rode here from Theffield—and he’d done the same thing today, whenever her father was mentioned.

“I will take whatever time is given to us.”

Her shoulders sagged with relief. She’d feared for a moment he’d changed his mind. And though it might be easier to part from him now than it would be in a few days, Clarissa could not make herself say the words that would keep him away.

“Meet me on the secret path.”

“It is not so secret to those who live here. How will you explain—”

“I will find a way. Tomorrow, after the sixth hour bell, I will be there.”

“As will I,” she said.

With a slight bow, Aidan was gone.

He strode out of the solar, leaving her standing there, staring after him. No good would come of their meeting again. They both knew it, but Clarissa was as powerless to tell Aidan to stay away as she’d been to stop her father from taking her home from that tournament.

The outcome would be another unhappy ending, but Clarissa no longer cared.

A sennight had passed since Aidan’s initial visit to Sutworth Manor. Each day had been much the same. Meetings with Graeme and Reid, training with the men, and avoiding Gillian and Allie’s questions about his midday rides. Graeme had not been pleased that first day, and he’d thought to avoid another unpleasant conversation by keeping subsequent visits quiet. They were all becoming suspicious, but while his brother avoided questioning him, his sisters had no such qualms. And so he’d dispensed excuses. One day, he’d claimed to visit Lawrence. Another, the village.

If he felt poorly about deceiving his brother, Aidan pushed those feelings aside. He was not jeopardizing their mission in any way. He’d not tossed Clarissa onto his horse and absconded to Highgate with her—a scenario that consumed his every waking thought—so he refused to feel poorly any longer for his actions.

Even though he knew he should.

So when Allie whispered “Meet me at the training yard” to him at supper, he understood why she wished to speak with him privately—to press him about Clarissa. After all, her skill with the longsword was no longer a secret, and the invitation harkened back to how things had been before, back when they’d kept her developing skill to themselves.

Stopping in the bakehouse first for a few chunks of bread—pried away with difficulty from the covetous baker—he made his way back down the hill and away from the keep, trying, unsuccessfully, not to think of her.

And yet his thoughts lingered on Clarissa’s easy smile. Though she claimed not to be the same since Lord Stanley, he did not believe it fully. The goodness that had attracted him to her still shone through in every word, every smile. Better to think of that smile than the endearing way she bit her lip.

“Over here.”

Though she was dressed for training, the new sword Reid had commissioned for her at her side, it was clear his impulse had been correct. Allie was here to talk and not to train.

“I’ve news for you.”

Her smile was so infectious, he found himself smiling back. This was not about his daily rides then, but Allie was undoubtedly up to something.

“You’ve a look about you, lass—”

“A look? Of which sort?”

He folded his arms. “Allie . . . ,” he warned.

The stress of the last days had weighed on him. Aidan was not his playful self, and Allie must have sensed as much.

“I could not chance being overheard in the hall.”

“What is this—”

“The annulment. It is done.”

The look she gave him penetrated before her words did. Assured, confident and thoroughly pleased, Allie waited for his reaction. She could not mean—

“Did you hear me?”

“It would be difficult not to do so with you shouting at me.”

He teased her often about her enthusiastic way of communicating, which was much more ardent than Gillian’s method of delivery. In truth, he was still attempting to decipher her words.

“The annulment? Clarissa’s annulment?”

“Nay, Aidan. The other one that promises to alter the course of your life.”

He simply stared.

“Aye, Lady Clarissa’s annulment! Who do you believe I—”

“How could you know about such a thing?”

He’d seen Clarissa just the day before, and she had not told him anything of the sort.

“Donnon, the sheepherder. You know, the one whose wife was killed by—”

“Aye, I know Donnon well.” Aidan did not even attempt to hide his impatience.

“I was speaking with him earlier, and he heard from Ferguson MacDuff, who had just come from The Wild Boar, that Lord Stanley is already betrothed for the third time, now that his annulment to Lady Clarissa has been finalized. In fact, talk of it is rampant according to—”

“No.”

It could not be. If what Allie said was true and Stanley’s betrothal was already a well-known fact, it meant Clarissa’s father had to know by now. “No . . . not already.”

His stomach felt as hard as a rock, the sensation not nearly as unwelcome as Allie’s news.

“I paid a visit to . . . Aidan, are you ill?”

He had to leave at once. “Do you know what this means?”

Allie smiled. “It means that you can go to her. Of course, you’ve been going to her each day, but now—”

“What did you say?”

No maid had ever looked more innocent.

“You said once that it feels as if you’ve known me since birth. Though your daily rides were most unusual, it took me some time to sort out. After all, you told me of that first visit, why not the subsequent ones.”

“Allie!” He loved her, but Aidan also wanted to shake her at the moment. “Who else knows?”

She mimicked his earlier stance, crossing her arms in front of her. “You mean to ask, ‘Does Graeme know?’” Allie pretended to consider the question. “Is it not odd that you once helped me overcome my sister’s reluctance to accept Reid, and I am now doing the very same for you?”

Aidan’s heart threatened to explode. “This is not simply a disagreement between siblings. Gillian was the only barrier that stood between you and Reid. In this situation, Graeme has every reason to be upset. My attachment to her could jeopardize everything. And you believe just because her marriage is no longer—”

“I’ve never seen you this way,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. The sympathy in her eyes sliced through him. “The people you love are happy. Do you not believe you also deserve—”

“It does not matter what I deserve. Clarissa and I . . . we cannot be.”

“But once her father agrees to remove Caxton—”

“It will be too late. Besides which, Theffield could easily go back on his word.” Hadn’t he thought the situation through each and every night? Aidan pulled his arm away and shook his head. “This is no time to play matchmaker, Allie. It is simply not possible—”

“Then why do you see her each day?”

“It does not matter why,” he lashed out. “She cannot wait for the abbess any longer. If her father finds her—”

“Aidan . . .”

It was the gentle tone that kept him pinned to the spot.

“You love her.”

Dear God, he did. He had never stopped loving her. And that was why he had to ensure she left for Dunburg. Now. “My feelings matter not.”

“There must be a way for you to be together.”

“I must go.”

When Allie smiled once again, he realized she had misunderstood.

“I must go tell her to leave tonight. I will escort her to the abbey,” he thought aloud.

Allie was incredulous. “Aidan, you cannot—”

“You don’t understand the political situation,” he said. “You and Clarissa were raised in much the same way. Sheltered, unaware of—”

“Do not insult me.”

And now she was furious with him. But how else could he explain to her what would happen if he were caught with Clarissa? Each time he saw her, each time he helped her against Theffield’s wishes, he further jeopardized the future of the Day of Truce. These past days with her . . . they had been the best of Aidan’s life, but they both knew their time was limited.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it. “Tell Graeme everything,” he added, aware his brother would not be pleased. But it no longer mattered. By the time he came back, Clarissa would be safely installed at Dunburg Abbey.

And if the nuns do not agree to take her?

They would. The jewels she brought them would ensure it. The question was not if they would take her, but how Aidan could bear to leave her there, never to see her again.