“Tell me something I don’t know of you already,” Aidan said, catching her off guard.

Finished with her modest meal, Clarissa pulled her riding gown beneath her, wishing she were wearing something a bit more comfortable.

“When I was young, I dreamed of being a scullery maid.”

The look on his face told her she’d surprised him.

“Surely not—”

“The kitchens have always fascinated me. Unlike my own bedchamber, where I spent much of my time as a child, there was always activity there. People coming and going, the smell of freshly baked bread . . . ’twas my favorite place in the castle. I knew enough to understand it was hard work, but still I dreamed of it. Of having the freedom to come and go each day—”

“Were you not able to spend any time there?”

Another memory assaulted her, one she did not so readily share. One of her father finding her, yet again, in a place that “did not suit to the daughter of an earl.”

“Nay,” she said simply. “My father forbade it. But no matter, it was an overly romantic notion. The life of any maid is not so easy. I understand more now than I did as a child—the freedom I so coveted is not easily won.” Trying to keep the tone of their conversation light, she nodded to him. “Tell me something of you.”

Aidan cocked his head to the side, thinking. “When I was a child, I always wished for a sister.”

“You did?”

“Aye. When our mother died, I mourned twofold—for her and for the loss of a dream I’d always thought quite silly.”

“Not so silly,” she said, “I wished for the same.” She smiled. “Or a brother.”

“Your father never married again.”

“Nay. When I was young and bold, I asked him about it once.” She stopped, remembering that particular conversation.

“And what did he say?”

Why did every topic seem to lead back to the man who’d raised her, who hated her?

Clarissa shook her head. She thought Aidan would let the comment pass, but he did not.

“Clarissa? What did he say?”

Her throat tightened. She had never said the words aloud and did not wish to do so now. But that she’d shared some of this with him—knowing Aidan would not condemn her—compelled her to do so anyway. “That I had killed my mother, and I’d not be given another chance to do so again.”

She looked down at her hands, folding her fingers inside each other. Taking a deep breath, she was surprised to see Aidan’s feet appear in front of her. She hadn’t even heard him move. When he squatted in front of her, Clarissa was forced to look up.

Without saying a word, Aidan reached out and covered her hands with his own. A familiar welling inside her chest threatened to give way to the tears she’d shed so many times over her father’s treatment of her. But she was determined not to cry this time. There was no reason to do so.

She was not to blame for her mother’s death. How many times had Albert and Eda told her that?

She looked up.

Aidan’s expression of warmth and understanding nearly shattered her resolve not to break down in tears over her father’s cruel words. Again.

“You do not believe that, do you?” he asked softly.

His warm hands reminded her that spring nights in Scotland were much the same as they were in northern England, cool and unforgiving. In that moment, she was glad for it.

“Nay, I do not.”

Though she meant it, Aidan did not appear to believe her. He waited, as if trying to decipher if she would change her mind. Though she said nothing more, he did not move. An awareness that had nothing to do with her father or his words covered her like a thick blanket.

“You’ve not had it so easy, lass.”

She supposed not, but some had fared much worse than she.

“I just want to feel safe.” When the words poured out of her, Clarissa realized the truth of them. She’d been running, it seemed, for so long. And now she was doing so again, and she just wanted it to end.

Aidan stood, pulling her with him. His arms encircled her as her own arms reached around him of their own accord. They stood that way for so long, the crackling of the fire the only sound except for their own breathing. Clarissa was loath to break away.

So she didn’t.

“You are safe with me,” he said finally. “I pledge on my honor as the second to the chief of Clan Scott, I will not let any harm come to you.”

He never pulled away, and Clarissa did not see his face when he said the words, but she did not need to. She knew he meant every word. This time, she could not stop the tears from springing to her eyes.

“Do you understand what I’m saying, lass?”

She nodded against his chest.

“You are under my protection. My clan’s protection.”

“But—”

He did look at her then, his gaze so intense that Clarissa would have been frightened if he were foe rather than friend.

“You will come to Highgate End and stay there until your safety can be assured.”

“None can know I am there.”

“Very few will know, aye.”

“And you will help me find a convent that will take me?” She’d already asked so much of him, but Clarissa was truly at his mercy. And though she’d sworn never to be at the mercy of another man, she trusted Aidan.

“I will.” He frowned. Aidan did not like her plan, but he would not go back on his promise. For the first time that she could remember, she actually believed all might be well.

Reluctant to leave the warmth of his embrace, Clarissa laid her head against his chest once more, thanking God for sending him to her. Her husband had been just as wrong as her father. If God wished to punish her for being unworthy, surely Aidan wouldn’t have returned to her life just when she needed him most.

The scent of her lingered still.

Aidan looked up at Highgate Castle, so named for the mound of earth that perched the circular structure high above the surrounding land. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes for a brief moment, allowing himself to remember last eve, and how it had felt to hold the woman who now rode beside him. He’d wanted her, aye, but for far more than that he’d wanted them to stay that way—nestled together, her clutching the fabric at his back as he struggled to get closer to her. She fit perfectly against him, as if she belonged there. He’d only released her upon remembering how badly she needed to sleep.

Sleep.

Once Clarissa was installed safely at Highgate, he desperately needed rest. He’d stayed awake for the second night, not trusting the silence of the road he’d thought was safe. It had been, but Aidan did not take his oath to Clarissa lightly. In order to properly protect her, he could not sleep until they were safely inside Highgate’s walls. With all that had happened recently along the border, he could not be too careful.

“Do you remember what I told you?” he asked, glancing over at her.

Peeking out from under the hooded cape she’d worn as a blanket last eve, Clarissa nodded. Looking down and ensuring her face could not be seen, she followed him up the incline and through the gates of his home. If any of the guards thought it odd his companion wore such a garment in the middle of the day, none of them commented. In fact, no one questioned them at all as he rode past the stables, where he’d normally stop, and led her directly to the Prison Tower. Each of the four towers framing Highgate Castle had once had a purpose, though this one served as a prison no longer. Before he was born, it had been converted into a mostly abandoned series of chambers for guests, used only when the great keep and the other three towers were filled to capacity.

The furthest away from the keep, situated at Highgate’s southeast corner, the Prison Tower also had its own well to recommend it. But Aidan had mostly chosen it for Clarissa because of the smells that made their way to it from the nearby bakehouse. If Clarissa had enjoyed being in the kitchen back at Theffield, certainly she would like to meet Lewis, Highgate’s baker and one of the few people Aidan would trust with her true identity.

When they were directly in front of the entrance to the tower, Aidan dismounted and helped Clarissa do the same. Aidan pushed open the iron-studded door, revealing a set of winding stairs on the east wall of the rounded tower.

“The garderobe is on the ground floor,” he said, pointing to an interior door as they passed it. “And this,” he led the way to the first landing, “is one of four bedchambers within this tower. I would suggest the next one up”—he continued upward—“so that you have this.”

Waiting for Clarissa to catch up to him, Aidan ducked under an archway that led directly to a wall-walk. Though no guards were in sight, he planned to station a friendly and unobtrusive one in the vicinity. He pointed beneath them.

“From here there is no danger of being noticed from below. Most of the activity in the inner courtyard will be behind us.”

“The view . . . ’tis so beautiful.”

The rolling green hills had always been his favorite scenery from this vantage point, but even after two days of travel, the road-weary woman who stood beside him stole that honor.

“Don’t you agree?” she asked, her voice full of wonder.

He could not tear his gaze from her. “Aye, lass. I do.”

The glimmer in her eyes told him she had realized that he spoke not of the landscape but of her. Clarissa opened her mouth to respond when an unwelcome voice from behind them interrupted them.

“You found your way home, brother.”

Clarissa whipped her head around as Aidan waited for Graeme to continue.

“My lady,” Graeme addressed her. “Well met since those many years past when I greeted you in your hall at Theffield.”

In deference to his position as chief, Clarissa curtsied prettily, as if they’d just met at court.

“Chief,” she said, “the honor is mine.”

Graeme nodded politely but did not waste a moment. He gestured toward the inner chamber of the tower, and Clarissa followed him inside. Aidan did the same. Once they were all sequestered inside the very room Aidan had suggested Clarissa take for her own, he closed the door behind them.

“We received word from your father just this morn,” Graeme began, addressing Clarissa.

She seemed surprised. And frightened. Graeme must have belatedly realized the implication of his words. “His message was not about you, my lady. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Graeme glanced at Aidan and then addressed his next words directly to Clarissa. “He has agreed to assist our cause.”

No news could have been more surprising. He had been convinced the earl would do otherwise. And while this should have been a cause for celebration, it was not.

Clarissa’s face drained of color. “If he finds out that I am here—”

“He will not,” Aidan cut in. “This is welcome news,” he said to Graeme. “But it changes nothing. As I’m sure Lawrence told you, Lady Clarissa has nowhere to go. With Dunburg Abbey shutting its doors, we must help her find somewhere else to go.”

And just so that his brother understood the situation clearly, he added, “Until then, she is under our protection. I will speak with Lewis, who can assist our cause. Malcolm will need to station guards we can trust with this secret—”

“There is not one man or woman here I would not trust with my life,” Graeme interrupted.

“I agree,” Aidan said, “but it is not our lives we are discussing. It is Lady Clarissa, our entire clan, and indeed, all of the borderers for whom her identity must remain a secret.”

He watched his brother contemplate his words. Graeme had not flinched when he’d announced Clarissa was under their protection. His brother would honor the vow he’d made, of course, but Aidan had expected more of a reaction.

“Very well,” Graeme said. “I leave her protection to you. In the meantime, we’ve much to discuss.”

“Aye, we do. I will be along shortly.”

Graeme turned to leave but stopped at the door. “I will send Gillian along,” he said with a final nod to Clarissa. “She looks forward to meeting you.”

Aidan turned to explain that he would be back after his meeting with Graeme and that Lady Gillian would attend to her needs in the meantime. But Clarissa’s pallor and wide eyes stopped him. She appeared as shocked as if she’d seen a fairie.

“What is it, lass?”

Clarissa opened her mouth but nothing came out.

Aidan’s heartbeat quickened. “What is it—”

“He . . . he did not question you. Or order you to send me away. He . . . your brother . . .”

His shoulders sagged with relief. For a moment he’d thought something was wrong.

“I told you,” he clarified. “You are under my protection, which means you are under the clan’s protection as well. My word and my brother’s are interchangeable,” he explained.

Aidan wanted to stay to assure her that she was safe, and that her father’s decision did not change that. But Graeme was right, there was much to be done. “Rest,” he said. “Lady Gillian will be along shortly. And I will visit you as soon as I’m able.”

Then, because he could not stop himself, Aidan leaned over and placed the gentlest of kisses on her lips. If the move startled her, Clarissa did not show it. But as he turned to leave, Aidan could have kicked himself. Why had he done that? Though it nearly killed him, he had not kissed her at all during their journey . . . since the kiss they’d shared at Sutworth had nearly undone him, of course. And yet, it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to say farewell in that way.

Clarissa is not yours to kiss anytime you please, and you will do well to remember that.

God help him, he was trying. Though it was becoming harder and harder each passing day.