Add this decision to the litany of my mistakes since Clarissa appeared in that courtyard asking for assistance.

As he led her through the corridors that would deposit them directly in front of the gatehouse, Aidan had plenty of time to ponder the events of the day, including this hasty invitation to the river, which would do nothing to put distance between him and Clarissa.

Gillian’s question plagued him. Was there another way? No matter how much he wished there were, he doubted it. He’d already considered the possibility she’d suggested, only to throw it out. Involving the Waryns or Clave would endanger their negotiations with Theffield—and endanger their friends. His logical mind assured him Clarissa had devised the safest plan possible—and yet he could not accept it.

“This way,” he said, pushing the thoughts aside.

They exited just inside the gate. Aidan looked back to ensure Clarissa was well hidden behind him, then called to the guard. When the portcullis was lifted, he hurried her toward the path he’d shown Allie back when their training sessions with the longsword were still a secret. Though they’d never met this late in the evening, with only the moonlight to guide them, he and Allie had taken this footpath most evenings before supper.

Clarissa caught up to him as they bounded down the hill. When she passed him, he had to run to catch up. Evading him, she ran faster. Aidan would have let her best him, but the lass didn’t know where she was going. So he ran ahead and guided her past the training yard and toward the river. When they reached its banks, both of them out of breath, the beautiful sound of her laughter filled the air.

“A gentleman would have let the lady win,” she said, the hood of her cape having long since fallen.

“And where, precisely, would you have run to, my lady? Or have you been here before without the pleasure of my company?”

“If I’ve been here, it was only in a dream,” she said. Then, perhaps realizing the implication of her words, she added, “No, I’ve not been here before and would have likely led us astray.”

You could never lead me astray.

Aidan dismissed the thought as that of a sentimental fool, and walked toward the river’s edge. “As I said, my lady, it will not be a warm, luxurious bath. The water is cold, especially this time of year.”

Or any time of year, really. Even in the summer months, Aidan never stayed in the water for long. He hated cold water. Always had.

“Is it safe?”

Though the moon was high and nearly full, the darkness of the surrounding woods and foreboding current, which was nothing to dismiss, lent the night an air of foreboding.

“Aye,” he said. “We’d not be here otherwise. But I will go in with you to be sure.”

He began to lift the hem of his shirt when Clarissa stopped him.

“Pardon?”

Of course. He should explain. “You should remove your cape and boots. I will do the same—”

“But you’re not wearing a cape.”

Her eyes looked as wide as the moon. Aidan scolded himself. She may have been married, but Clarissa was still very much innocent.

“I will remove only my shirt,” he explained, “and will be with you the entire time.”

Aidan moved to take off his leather boots, reminding her to do the same, and then removed his shirt. He waited for Clarissa to disrobe, telling himself he was strong enough to do this.

She is not yours to claim.

But it seemed the reminder was not necessary, or at least not yet. With her feet bare, Clarissa did not move.

She was staring at his chest.

Aidan had been admired before. Many times, in fact. But never had a woman’s gaze made him feel quite like this. Clarissa’s lips parted, and she did not move to hide the fact that she very much appreciated what she saw. Not surprisingly, Aidan responded. He hardened, watching her. Neither of them moved.

“Surely you’ve seen men in this state. In training?” He did not wish to speak Lord Stanley’s name, and while he was not an arrogant man, he knew there was a difference between the body of a warrior and that of an old layabout.

Clarissa shook her head. “I’d never been allowed near the training yard.”

Christ’s toes . . . he couldn’t help himself.

“If you continue to stare at me, lass—”

She immediately turned her head. “I’m sorry for being so rude.”

He took a step toward her.

“I just—” Her sharp intake of breath when he grabbed her wrist and brought her hand toward his chest sent a jolt of lust through him, though Aidan ignored it. He would not touch her. Good God, man. Then why are you guiding her hand to you?

“You are not rude, but curious. And you’ve a right to be so, Clarissa.”

When she met his eyes, he nodded, giving her permission to do as she would. When he removed his hand from hers, he held his breath, waiting.

Splaying her fingers out across his chest, she moved them over the muscles that twitched beneath the feather-light touch of her fingertips. He knew where they were headed. Sure enough, she traced them downward, not quite caressing but definitely exploring each ridge of his stomach. He forced himself to take deep, even breaths.

“’Tis nothing like Lord Stanley.”

If anything could have tempered his reaction to her touch, it was that. Aidan covered her hand lest she move any lower.

“I would expect not.”

He watched her eyes as they darted downward and then back up to his own.

“Talk to me, my love.”

Those last words slipped out, and Aidan silently prayed Clarissa would not notice, or comment.

“He tried thrice to beget a child from me.”

When she closed her eyes and tried to pull away, Aidan would not let her.

“He bade me remove my clothes.” She opened her eyes. “I did, lying still so as to not anger him. Each time he hovered over me, touching himself and cursing me.”

Aidan wasn’t sure if he hated Theffield or her former husband more.

“His anger lasted for days. After the third time, he sent his physician to examine me.”

She attempted to shift her gaze to the ground, but he tipped her chin up. He wouldn’t let her look down. There was nothing for her to be ashamed of.

“Though it was confirmed I was as untouched as my father had promised him, Stanley told the priest otherwise. I did not realize it at first.” She shrugged. “But now I know he spun that tale to ensure the annulment would be granted.”

When she finished, Clarissa seemed stronger, as if she’d exorcised something that had preyed on her. No longer tentative, her hand began to move again, stroking his chest.

“I am glad to be away from there. From him.”

“And I am glad you trusted me with your story.”

Foolishly, he brought Clarissa’s other hand up to his chest.

“Replace those memories with a new one,” he heard himself saying. Untying the laces at her neck, Aidan pushed the thick cape away from her, not daring to look down. Instead, he closed the space between them and captured her mouth in a slow, sensual kiss. One that promised to begin to erase the horrors of her past.

One that risked changing everything.

As her lips opened for him, her tongue touching his tentatively, Aidan wanted so much more than to be inside her.

Of course, he wanted that too.

But he also wanted her to know nothing the terrible men in her life had said was true. She was perfect, just as she was. And Aidan wanted her to know there was good in the world, men who did not treat women poorly simply because they had power, or felt powerless themselves.

He wanted her to know he loved her.

Startling himself with the thought, he pulled back and led her toward the bath he’d promised. As she stepped into the river, he laughed at her intake of breath. The water was indeed frigid.

“Careful.” He guided her to the flattest part of the riverbed, a spot he knew well, then reached into a pouch sewn into his trewes and pulled out the scented soap he’d scooped up from Clarissa’s bedchamber.

“Here.” He handed it to her as she waded further in, submerged to her hip. “You’ll want to be quick about it.”

“Thank you.”

He watched as she took the soap from his hands. And then, before he could stop her, Clarissa dunked herself into the water. Though he still held her hand, the darkness swallowed up everything else until she emerged a moment later.

Pulling away from him, she made quick work of using the soap to wash her hair and face. Reaching under the soaking wet shift, she continued to cleanse herself as Aidan attempted not to look at the hardened nipples that called to him from just beneath the thin fabric.

He finally noticed she was struggling to hold the soap and cleanse her hair and belatedly took it from her, indicating she should turn around. Running it through the long tresses he’d ached to touch for days, he used his fingers to separate the strands and nearly dropped to his knees when she released a soft moan.

“That feels so good,” she said. “Nothing at all like it does when Eda washes it.”

He nearly forgot how cold the water felt. Keeping a tawdry retort to himself, he finished his ministrations and watched as she slipped beneath the surface again, as nubile as a selkie. When she re-emerged, Aidan did the same, washing quickly and pulling her from the increasingly frigid water.

Dressing quickly, he thanked the saints Clarissa was once again covered with her cloak.

“Now what do we do?”

He looked up toward where the castle was located beyond the tree line, knowing he was a cad for what was about to happen next. The lass was quick, and this time she knew the destination. He smiled in anticipation of her reaction.

“Now,” he said, ensuring she was ready to leave. “We run.”

Still laughing as she caught up to him just outside the gatehouse, Clarissa chastised the man she’d previously thought more chivalric than any English knight.

“You bested me only because you cheated.”

Pulling her cloak back over her head, Clarissa followed Aidan to the entrance of her small chamber in the tower that had become her temporary home.

“Och, a harsh sentiment when I simply wanted to ensure you did not catch an early death.” Aidan pushed her gently into the room. “Go, warm up by the fire,” he said, turning as if to leave.

“What of you? Will you catch your own death on the way back to the keep?”

He winked, a boyish gesture that made him appear younger, especially when coupled with his wet, wavy hair.

“I will be fine,” he said, turning away again.

Clarissa did not want him to leave and told him so.

“You can warm yourself in here.”

Aidan’s grin fled from his face. “Clarissa, do you understand—”

“I understand I do not wish you to leave.” Well, she understood more than that, but it was all she was willing to put into words.

Aidan stood as still as a wooden pell, watching her. Waiting, but for what? For her to change her mind?

On this, I will not change course.

He looked back toward the direction they’d come, then at the fire that roared in the brazier Morgan had cleaned and prepared. He was going to leave, which was just as well.

He should leave.

But, may all the saints forgive her, she didn’t want him to.

He reached her in three strides, the door slamming behind him so powerfully Clarissa was sure it had cracked at the hinges. Whether she shivered from the cold, her wet shift, or his swift and sure movements as he released the cloak from her shoulders, Clarissa did not care.

He looked down for the briefest of moments, and the groan that escaped his lips ensured their path forward. She could no longer deny that Aidan de Sowlis was, and had always been, the man to whom she would give her favor. The only one.

Though she knew what he would do next, it was still a shock when he reached for the hem of her shift and lifted it over her head in one smooth movement. She wore nothing beneath it.

Clarissa was utterly and completely bare to his gaze.

“Oh God.”

His hands were everywhere at once. On her breasts, cupping and pinching as her mounds molded to his hands. She should be embarrassed, but her thoughts were elsewhere—Clarissa wanted to see him the same way, stripped bare. When his lips moved down her neck, she pulled up the shirt he’d already discarded once that evening, and thankfully, he obliged her by removing it.

And then he pressed up against her, his hard chest slamming against her breasts. Gasping, she was about to comment on the sensation when he drowned her response with a kiss so consuming that Clarissa forgot to breath. His tongue tousled with her own, and she moaned against him. In response, Aidan bit her lower lip, hard enough that she was nearly tempted to bite back.

But she couldn’t, for his fingers had found her core. Clarissa couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do anything other than will herself to remain standing. Without warning, those clever fingers entered her, his palm pressing against her as his fingers moved in rhythm with his mouth.

Oh dear God. I cannot take much more.

And yet she wanted more. She wanted it all.

“Listen to me,” he whispered in her ear, his words a soft caress to the much harder thrusting down below. “When I whisper the words, you will let go. Forget everything and give yourself to me completely.”

She didn’t know, or care, what he spoke of. Clarissa only wanted him to keep touching her that way. Forever. So she agreed, nodding mutely, unable to speak.

“Mo rúnsearc, you are mine.”

With those words, he pressed against her with all of him—his body, his hand, his lips—all pressing against her in unison, overwhelming her senses with pleasure. She could hold on no longer.

“Now,” he demanded, and she knew what he’d meant.

Clarissa gave everything to this man who’d torn her life apart. Who’d shattered every wall she’d built. Touched her in a way that no one else ever had, or would, again. She screamed, or tried to, but his mouth covered hers, the sound drowned by the delicious pressure.

And when her body finally relaxed, the spasms abating little by little, only one coherent thought remained.

She could never, ever, become a nun.