Clarissa had told him the tale of the reiver who’d attempted to kidnap her, but she hadn’t yet told him why she’d headed back to Highgate rather than north to Burness Abbey. Aidan tightened his arm around her, thinking of how close she’d come to real harm. Without the threat of the Day of Truce to curb their behavior, reivers had begun to slowly reclaim the authority they’d lost over the years.

Raids on fellow clans, enemies, or even allies who had broken promises—those had never truly ceased. But the days of reivers kidnapping women or murdering other travelers for a perceived offense had begun to wane.

“How is your head?” he asked, knowing they were close to Highgate.

“It hurts,” she replied, her voice low. “Aidan, we need to talk.”

“Aye, we do.” He had so many questions, he didn’t know where to start. So he remained silent, letting himself soak in the relief that she was okay, as they rode up to the gatehouse. Jon had refused Aidan’s offer to be seen by Highgate’s physician. He shrugged off the injury, saying he deserved the punishment for attempting to deceive Lady Clarissa.

Allie came running toward them the moment they entered the inner ward, reaching them as they arrived at the stable. “Oh dear. Aidan . . . you’ve lost your shirt.”

Aidan dismounted, whispered something to Allie, and helped Clarissa dismount as well. Then he looked down, feigning surprise.

“I’d not noticed,” he said, but Allie was not listening to him. She’d thrown her arms around Clarissa, and the two embraced as if they’d not seen each other in some time. When Allie began to cry, Clarissa looked at him with wide eyes. His chest constricted as he realized that no one had likely ever expressed that type of emotion over her before.

“I am so glad you’ve returned,” Allie said. “We were worried. Graeme came back from the abbey just moments before you arrived. When he said you were not at Burness . . . this was all my fault. Don’t shake your head at me, Aidan. It was my fault. I am so, so sorry.”

Allie hugged her again, and Aidan waited not so patiently for his sister-in-law to allow Clarissa to breathe.

“Are you here to stay?” Allie asked.

Every muscle in Aidan’s body tensed as he awaited her answer. She’d left him, again. Even so . . .

“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?”

She stood up once again, embarrassed to have been caught in such a position.

“Gillian.” She turned to greet the lady of Highgate.

“Our physician is here. Aidan sent for him to look at your head. Will you come with me to the solar and allow him to examine it?”

Aidan sent for him.

Of course he had. Her chest constricted at the memory of him standing in front of her, his back to her.

And oh my . . . what a back it was. When she’d touched him—

“This way,” Gillian said.

Clarissa’s cheeks flooded with heat. She’d made the worst decision of her life, and still she stood here thinking of Aidan in that way. A lump formed in her throat. No, no . . . she would not cry. Not in front of Lady Gillian.

“So tell me, what happened to your . . . oh, Clarissa . . .”

She could no sooner stop the tears from falling than she could take back the miserable excursion that had earned her Aidan’s disdain.

“Come here,” Gillian said, holding Clarissa as if she were a newborn babe. It was too late to stop the tears now. Her shoulders shook with the pain of her decisions.

“I only wanted to protect him,” she muttered against Gillian’s shoulder.

“I know you did. He knows that too.”

“No, I’ve ruined everything. He hates me—”

Gillian pushed her away gently and frowned.

“Nay, he does nothing of the sort. Aidan loves you, Clarissa. Everyone can see that. He may be angry, but that doesn’t change the way he feels about you.”

Gillian reached up and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. How could this woman, a stranger, be kinder to her than her own father? How could she care for her more than the man who’d brought her into this world?

Holding her gaze, Gillian added, “And I know you love him too.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “So, the question remains, what will you do about it?”

And she’d thought the woman so sweet.

“I suppose I should find him, tell him—”

But Gillian was already shaking her head. “Those are just words. You need to show him.”

“Show him?”

Clarissa was prepared to do anything it took. She’d realized something after her near miss with the reiver. She valued herself—and her happiness. And she was willing to fight for it. Despite the harsh words her father and former husband had spewed, she was worthy.

“Aye.” She wiped away the last vestiges of the tears that would not help her win Aidan back. “I will show him,” she promised, “and when I win him back, I will never, ever leave again.”

“You look beautiful. Doesn’t she look beautiful?” Allie asked her sister.

Clarissa could not believe how perfectly Gillian’s gown fit her. When she’d tried to go back to her chamber in the Prison Tower after the physician’s examination, Gillian had refused to allow it. In fact, Clarissa’s belongings, which she’d left behind, were already being brought into the main keep.

On Gillian’s orders, a tub had been brought to the lord and lady’s chamber for Clarissa, and when Graeme had attempted to come into the room earlier to prepare for the evening meal, his wife had told him to leave. Clarissa had argued against it. After all, winning back Aidan’s heart should not involve angering his brother and the chief of his clan. But Gillian had not accepted no for an answer.

Fiona and Morgan had flitted in and out of the room, helping Clarissa prepare for supper, and by the time they were finished with her, she had to admit she’d never felt so fussed over in her life. The navy blue gown Gillian had foisted on her suited her perfectly, ornamented simply with a silver belt, and her hair had been brushed until it was gleaming as brightly as a newly polished piece of armor. Clarissa had tried to pull it back, away from her face as was her custom, but the women insisted she leave it down.

“I will not take that gown back,” Gillian said, looking at her with an assessing eye. “It was made for you.”

“No, no, I cannot—”

“Clarissa.” Gillian took her hands, a wonder she could find them amidst the folds of fabric. “You are our sister now—”

“Nay, I am not—”

“Aidan will not stay angry with you.” Gillian looked at Allie. “Will he stay angry?”

“I should think not,” Allie said, grinning.

“You are a member of Clan Scott, and we will love and protect you, always. The gown?” She dropped her hands and stood back to look Clarissa up and down again. “’Tis a gift, so you cannot give it back.”

The words elicited yet another wave of emotion.

Oh no, not again . . .

“No,” Allie yelled. “You cannot cry!”

She had to laugh at the panicked look on her face, and that laughter chased away the tears. For the first time, she felt part of a family, a true family. If only she could keep them. Though Gillian and Allie seemed quite confident, Clarissa was not so sure she would be forgiven.

“We’ve told Graeme and Reid to meet us in the hall. So whenever you’re ready,” Allie said, grabbing her hand.

“And if I’m not ready yet?”

Allie pulled her, laughing. “’Tis no matter. You’re coming anyway.”

She followed the women through darkened corridors lit only by wall torches. For its many similarities to Theffield Castle, Highgate seemed to glow just a bit brighter everywhere they went. There was more activity, the sounds of the great hall already reaching their ears as they made their approach. And certainly there were more smiles, including the ones on her friends’ faces. They both beamed with delight as they ushered Clarissa into the hall. Neither seemed to be bothered by the sudden hush that descended around them.

“Keep walking,” Gillian whispered. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped at the entrance, looking for him. Clarissa should wonder at the sudden quiet. She should worry it was due to her, the woman that had led half of Aidan’s clan on a merry chase earlier in the day. Clarissa should wonder what everyone knew of her, exactly.

But she did not care at this very moment. Maybe she would later, but right now she only cared about seeing Aidan. And then she did.

Unfortunately, he now donned both a shirt and a surcoat.

Had Allie and Gillian dressed her in dark blue apurpose, knowing he would be wearing the same color?

Though he had not shaved, the stubble across his jaw made him appear fiercer than usual. Or perhaps she only thought so because she’d witnessed him toss a dagger into poor Jon from atop his horse.

As she walked toward the raised dais, she could see the slight curls in his hair that told her it had been recently wet. A bath? The river?

Clarissa forced herself to look away.

When she was guided to the seat next to him, she was none too surprised. She glanced at Allie and Gillian, whose secret smiles told her they had planned the seating arrangements as well.

The thought loosened her limbs, made her feel as if she were walking on air instead of a hard, rush-laden ground. Clarissa took a step up and was greeted by a standing Aidan, whose hand guided her to the seat next to him.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting, the velvet cushion under her soft and inviting.

“In England, the lord’s brother would be seated next to him,” she said. Instead, she and Aidan sat at the very end of the dais.

“The same is true here.”

Aye, Gillian and Allie.

“You are in high spirits,” Aidan said, his voice strained.

As their goblets were filled with wine, Clarissa tried to calm herself, but the air between them smelled of Aidan. Warmth radiated from him. Calm? Nay, it would not happen. “I am glad to be here.”

She would not hide anything from him this eve.

Aidan said nothing.

She had decided Aidan de Sowlis would be her husband, but she hadn’t thought it would be easy to persuade him she’d changed her mind. Well, she was nothing if not patient. She stayed as silent as he, waiting for an opportunity.

Her wait was rewarded when their meal was placed before them. Just as he reached for a slice of cheese from their shared trencher, she did the same. Her fingers not so accidentally touched his, though she pulled back, as if startled.

Clarissa was rewarded with a sharp glance.

Did he know she did it apurpose?

Though neither of them spoke, her next opportunity came as they finished the first course. When Aidan handed her the cleaning cloth, she ensured their fingers touched once again. This time, she allowed hers to linger.

A tick in his jaw told her it was working.

Throughout the meal, he spoke mostly to Allie, who sat on his left. Conversation with her was limited to pleasantries, but Clarissa was not fooled by his casual manner. Twice she’d caught him looking at her as if she were an interesting specimen who required further study.

At one point, a servant placed a jug of wine in front of Aidan, assuring them he would soon return, to see to another task. Rather than wait, Clarissa murmured, “Pardon me,” and reached across the trencher for the jug. And if her leg brushed his under the table, well, it couldn’t be helped.

The hand on her knee so startled her, Clarissa nearly dropped the wine.

“What are you about, my lady?”

His hand remained in place, the heat of it searing into her.

“I am attempting to pour more wine,” she said, refusing to look away. His eyes, anything but cool, bore into her own.

“Nay, you are attempting to seduce me,” he said in a lowered voice.

She pretended to be shocked by his directness.

“I promise you, Aidan, I’ve not seduced any man before in my life.”

Though he relaxed his grip, Aidan’s hand still did not move.

“But you don’t deny you are doing just that now?”

Can I be so bold as to admit it?

Had she not just stabbed a man in the thigh?

“Nay, I do not deny it.”

His thumb moved ever so slightly, caressing her. And then it was gone.

“Why?” He took the jug and poured her wine without looking away.

“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her voice. “I should not have left.”

He didn’t respond, but neither did he look away.

“I will never leave you again.”

She desperately needed him to believe her, but Clarissa could tell he did not. Yet. At least he was listening.

“I would do anything,” she said, putting emphasis on that last word, “to prove it to you.”

Finally, a crack. His lips parted, ever so slightly. She did not relent.

Leaning closer to ensure they could not be heard, she whispered, “I am yours. Let me show you that I will always be so.”

He turned to her so abruptly that their lips almost touched. Leaning back, Clarissa gripped the stem of her goblet more tightly.

“Anything?”

“Anything,” she said, her voice firm and her resolve even more so.

The corner of his lips rose, ever so slightly, and Clarissa nearly melted into her seat. It was the first time he’d smiled all day.

He took a swig from his drink, not bothering to look if anyone else had noticed them. Which they hadn’t. Or at least they’d pretended not to.

Aidan was watching her now, a probing stare that sent shivers down her spine and to her very core.

“In that case—” he placed the goblet back onto the table and leaned toward her, “—I would wed and bed you, my lady.” Before she had time to be surprised by his bluntness, he added, “Though not necessarily in that order.”