Page 41 of The Guardian’s Favor

Aidan’s knowing glare surprised her.

“You are always welcome at Sutworth Manor,” Father Patrick said. “We are honored to have you as our lady. But if you come with me now, your father will find you there.”

Oh God, he was really leaving.

“Farewell, lass.”

And before she could even consider whether to nudge her mount forward and attempt to accompany them anyway, he and Lawrence were gone. It still had not rained, and the cloud of dust they left behind rose from the ground as if aiding in their disappearance.

Father Patrick was gone.

And she was left with . . .

No, no, no.

This could not possibly be happening.

* * *

Graeme is going to kill me.

And his brother would be justified. He knew better than to bring Clarissa back to Highgate. Lord knew he did. But Aidan could not bear the thought of her returning to her father.

He did not yet know exactly what Lord Stanley had done to her, but it had clearly affected her, as was to be expected. No woman should be forced to endure such treatment, and certainly not one as good and giving as Clarissa.

Glancing to the side of the path, he announced, “We stop here for the night.”

As Lawrence had suggested, they’d made a wide berth around Sutworth and would enter Highgate from the east. Aidan hated the idea of sleeping on the road, the exposed section of marshland offering little cover, but they had no choice. He was well known in these parts, and keeping Clarissa’s identity a secret was imperative, so they could not seek shelter. Perhaps it would be safest to ride through the night, but Clarissa was exhausted. They’d not slept the evening before, having left Sutworth before dawn.

Their greatest threat sleeping in the wild was from reivers, but luckily this particular stretch of the path was typically not appealing to them. It was too wet for raising sheep, and only patches of dry land like the one they now rode upon made travel even possible.

“Here?”

Clarissa looked around them, sunlight having long since abandoned them, the moonlight as their guide. The only cover, to their left, was a line of trees that marked the entranceway to the Carnwood Mountains. In the daylight, the view was a spectacular combination of rugged Scotland and the open farmlands that marked the central lowlands.

“Aye, lass. We cannot chance you being seen.”

They’d not spoken much since leaving Dunburg Abbey. In truth, he had not known what to say, an affliction those close to him would struggle to believe. Taking care of others had always come easily to him, and it gave him great joy. But he hardly knew how to help Clarissa. Stealing her away and hiding her at Highgate End while they found another abbey hardly seemed the best course. But what choice did he have? The alternative was to do the very thing he’d wanted all along—wed her. But to do so would ensure Theffield refused to assist the cause. Indeed, it would all but ensure he’d attack them.

They dismounted, and Aidan pointed to a thicket he could still see from his position. “You can have a bit of privacy over there.”

He began to set up camp, and by the time Clarissa returned, he’d fed the horses and had begun to prepare a fire.

“Is that wise?” she asked, pointing at the small pile of wood and kindling.

He nodded behind them. “The river where we watered the horses back there splits into an old Roman road and this less-used path. If it had rained at all in the past sennight, this path would be deluged with water. But even though passable right now, it is hardly traveled.”

She watched him without speaking as he finished preparing their camp. With nothing more than stale oatcakes and nuts to offer her, he’d considered hunting for meat but decided the risk of leaving Clarissa was not worth the potential reward. Instead, he unrolled the sole bedroll for his companion, stoked the fire, and patted the rock beside him.

Clarissa lifted her skirts and sat beside him.

“I’ve a shift in my belongings, but . . .”

“But?” he prompted.

He knew what she was thinking. Aidan could see it in the way she glanced down at her feet. If it were lighter, he would likely see the telltale spots of pink on her cheeks. Now that they had a moment to stop with nothing but quiet around them for miles in every direction, he had been thinking much the same thing.

It was going to be a very long night indeed. He could not have endured watching her sit next to him in such a garment, so he thanked the saints she’d decided against wearing it.