Page 6 of The Scot’s Secret

Though all three brothers were heavily muscled—she’d seen Toren’s chest more than once since serving him at the tournament—this one was just slightly wider. His hair was darker than his elder brother’s, a shade somewhere between dark and light brown, and shorter too. More dangerous yet, it capped the most perfect face she’d ever looked upon. The color of his eyes was masked by the lighting in the hall, even though there was an abundance of candles. His face was slightly square, and a few days’ growth gave him a more ominous look than his clean-shaven brothers.

In a past life, Clara would have been appalled by her honest perusal of the man, but she’d seen much in the past year, and it seemed silly to pretend otherwise. He was finely built, and she was not ashamed to admit it, even to herself.

“Welcome to Brockburg, lad,” the object of her admiration said. “I hear you’ll be training with me.”

Clara looked down just enough not to give insult. This was Alex? She could not train every day with this man. He was simply too distracting.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said in a husky voice that she’d perfected. Clara couldn’t even remember what her real voice sounded like.

“And as a son to a very prominent family in England, you will, of course, be given your own quarters here in the castle,” Lady Juliette said firmly. She delivered the lie without flinching or giving herself away in any manner.

A prominent family in England? So that was Lady Juliette’s plan. Clara tried not to appear surprised. The lady was extremely thoughtful. While it was true she’d helped bring Toren and Juliette together, the chief and his wife had already done more than enough to repay her. Bringing her here was repayment enough.

She nodded and peeked up again at Alex. He looked at her the way most did, as if she were a young boy and nothing more. The cap, the dirt, the loose, long-sleeved tunic. . . all Gilbert’s creations to ensure she went overlooked. And all quite effective these past years. But suddenly, for the first time since they had run from home, Clara wanted to be herself. The girl whom everyone had said would grow up to be a beautiful woman “like her mother.”

That was a dangerous thought indeed.

“Alex,” the chief said, “so kind of you to send a greeting party for the new lady of Brockburg Manor.”

Alex’s attention turned from her as the Kerr brothers bantered back and forth in a manner that indicated they’d had plenty of practice. Lady Juliette glanced at her and winked. She smiled and then immediately bowed her head toward the ground.

Gilbert had warned her against smiling. She’d once thought him overly cautious, but his worries had proven quite practical. A knight who’d paid Gilbert to repair his sword during a small tourney had come to their tent to fetch it. A kindly man, he’d overpaid Gilbert, declaring his work worthy of a greater fee than had been asked.

The man had joked with Gilbert, and Clara had momentarily forgotten herself. She’d smiled, and the man had immediately walked toward her. He’d lifted her chin, turned to Gilbert, and then turned back to her. Clara had been discovered. Though they’d left immediately, and without incident, it had served as a much-needed reminder. She could never let her guard down.

“Your smile is your mother’s,” Gilbert had said. “As bright as the midday sun. Not the morning one just peekin’ out, but one high in the sky, warming everyone in the land with its bright and beautiful rays.”

She’d chided him for his poetic sensibility, something she’d actually come to love about the man who’d become like a second father to her. Though he couldn’t read himself, Gilbert had loved to listen to troubadours’ tales and often sought them out at tourneys, sometimes at the expense of coin he could be earning.

Clara pulled herself back to the conversation around her. The man who would be her master caught her eye and walked toward her.

“Toren says you are to be my squire.”

Was he unhappy about the fact? The others moved toward the high table, but Clara was no longer hungry. Could she really stay disguised as this man’s squire? He looked at her in a way that made her feel he could see straight through her.

“Aye, my lord.”

“I’ve not had one before,” he said and shrugged. “Tomorrow is soon enough to begin your training. But I’m sure you are hungry now.”

“Nay,” she said, too quickly. The thought of food roiled her stomach. She’d not been this nervous traveling alone in the dark.

“Then come. I’ll show you to your rooms first.”

She followed him from the hall down a winding staircase, through an arched wooden door, and out into the courtyard. Brockburg Castle was a contradiction in so many ways. While they walked through a cobblestone courtyard, a clear sign of wealth, the passageway that led to one of seven towers—if she’d counted correctly—was overgrown with weeds. Like most hilltop castles, its design was compact, every necessity fit within its outer curtain walls.

She concentrated on the uneven path beneath her feet rather than the Scotsman she followed. It would do no good to dwell on his appearance. Experience had taught her that a man’s looks had little to do with his character. Besides, how was she to train with the man if she could not overcome her foolish attraction to him?

They entered a tower that contained, as far as she could tell, nothing more than sleeping quarters.

“There’s a storeroom below,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him up another set of winding stairs. “’Tis where they hide the bodies.”

“The bodies?” She couldn’t keep the alarm from her voice.

Alex barely broke a smile. “Of the squires who displease me, of course.”

So serious was his tone, it took her a moment to realize he chided her. They passed through a small iron gate and climbed nearly to the top of the edifice.

“As you heard, Lady Juliette has requested that you receive private chambers,” he called back. “’Tis a luxury not provided to our servants,” he said, arriving at a small platform and another wooden door. He lifted the iron handle and pushed inside. She followed him into a modest chamber devoid of any luxuries beyond a large bed without coverings and a single chair. It was clean, though a mite dusty, and she’d spied a wardrobe below in this same tower. If it was not already in use, it would prove most convenient.