Page 29 of The Scot’s Secret

She could never marry, as that would mean revealing herself. Unless she wanted to meet the same fate as her father, that could never, ever happen.

9

Two days after she had left with the merchant, Clara rode out once again, this time with Alex. She knew from Juliette that Toren was worried about Alex, who was missing the Day of Truce, something he never did, to search for his mother. She had bid goodbye to her friend, knowing it was entirely possible she’d not return. Juliette must have sensed as much—she’d implored her to be safe, never once asking about her identity.

Alex, on the other hand, clearly did not intend to keep silent. They’d travelled only a short distance before he began to question her.

“You ride well, yet have no mount of your own?”

Clara adjusted her headpiece and tried to think of an answer that would suit.

“The truth or no answer at all, please.”

Confound it, the man was too clever by half.

“I had to sell her,” she said. Which was the truth.

Once he realized she’d say no more, Alex fell silent. Clara watched him ride just ahead of her, admiring his form against the lush landscape around them.

They rode at a hard pace, but not so hard she couldn’t handle it. Clara had long since learned how to stay in a saddle all day. Long gone were the days when she had ridden for pure pleasure. When they finally did stop to water the horses, they dismounted and settled onto a hard patch of earth just off the path and next to a small stream.

“Between here and Kenshire, there’s just one inn. Most nights we’ll sleep here.” He patted the ground beside him.

“Kenshire?”

She knew they headed south to search for his mother, but he had not told her their destination.

“Aye. We’ve recently forged an alliance with the Countess of Kenshire, and my mother was spotted near Elkview.”

“And you’ve no word from her before now?”

The easy smile fled from his face. “She’s not given any indication she wants to be found. The merchant only said a woman matching her description was overheard speaking of her ‘three sons and a daughter in the Scottish borderlands.’ Whether or not ’tis she. . . ” He shrugged.

“Will you tell me about her?”

Though Clara was curious, she immediately regretted the question, knowing what he’d ask in return.

“Will you tell me who you are?”

They looked at one another, Clara knowing he wished to speak of his mother as much as she wished to reveal her identity. Neither would do so.

Perhaps a less threatening question would break the uneasy tension between them.

“While we were at the Tournament of the North, Toren mentioned to me that you were once a skilled tourney player?”

He hesitated, then said, “Did he mention the injury?”

“Aye.” Mayhap ’twas not such a good subject to raise after all. . .

“Then you know I was nearly killed. That wound festered for days.”

“There was a man by the name of Lord Blackburn at the tournament who tried his best to defeat your brother by any means necessary. Toren said ’twas much the same with your last match.”

She looked away, realized she was staring. It was difficult not to do so. Alex was the kind of man who simply commanded one’s attention.

“When you force enemies into combat, some will do whatever is necessary to win.”

“But not you.”