Page 13 of The Scot’s Secret

“Aye, I do.”

“So if you’re so inclined to call me a Scottish bastard, then do so. You are to be my squire, not my handmaiden.”

Good lord, never that! She imagined assisting him in undress—

“But I do insist on one thing,” he said, his tone serious.

They had just emerged from the trees, and the magnificent sight of Brockburg Castle loomed high above them.

“Anything, my lord.”

He stopped, and she followed his lead. She looked up at him, the sun setting behind him in a magnificent display of orange and blue. Though not quite as magnificent as the sight of this powerful, alluring man towering above her.

“Do not ever lie to me.”

* * *

“Alfred, what do you think?”

Juliette stood in the great hall, looking at the new tapestries that had been hung on the walls.

Two days after Alex’s ominous warning, Clara continued to avoid him as much as possible. She was eager to leave before he appeared for supper, but she also wanted to help Juliette, who was determined to transform Brockburg into a more appealing keep. Though well-maintained, it had lacked a woman’s touch for many years.

“I think a squire is an unlikely choice to assist with the new decorations in the great hall.”

Juliette winked and walked around the wooden trestle tables to get a closer look at the colorful tapestries. “Why so many beautiful pieces sat in storage for so long, I’ll never understand.” And then, abruptly changing the topic of conversation, she asked, “How goes your training with Alex?”

Alex.

It seemed the man’s name was on everyone’s lips. Just that morning she had been stopped in the courtyard by the priest, who’d asked where the chief’s second could be found. Alex was everywhere here at Brockburg, even when he was not present. There was simply no way of avoiding the man.

“Fine,” she said, moving toward Juliette, drawn to a blue and gold tapestry depicting various oxen and boar gathered about a mighty sword that dominated the center of the scene.

“Interesting,” Juliette replied.

At first Clara thought she referred to the scene in front of them, but when she looked at the new lady of Brockburg, Juliette was staring at her and not the tapestry.

“Pardon?”

“You were witness to our courtship,” she whispered, evidently referring to herself and Toren at the tournament.

“Aye, or some of it.”

“When did you know there was something between us?” Juliette reached up, just barely touching the point of the sword etched into the hanging.

Clara thought back, trying to remember the first time she suspected Toren’s feelings. Perhaps it was the time he’d bolted out of the lists to find Juliette after his second match?

Nay. She knew the answer.

“It was when you visited the tent city,” she said. “I was about to retire for the evening when I saw you approach.”

“My lady.” A servant moved toward them, weaving around the tables, her arms filled with another folded tapestry. “Beggin’ your pardon, but I was told to give ye this.”

Juliette smiled at the woman and held out her arms. “Cleaned already?” She thanked the woman, who beamed at her new lady, her smile growing even wider when she glanced up at the previously bare stone wall.

She had once overheard Toren speak of his home in a way that had made her think something at Brockburg was lacking. No longer. With Lady Juliette, Brockburg would be whole again. The wounds of the past would finally be healed.

Juliette set the wall hanging down on a nearby table and then returned to her. For some reason, Clara knew she was not going to like the remainder of Juliette’s speech.