Page 104 of The Scot’s Secret

What kind of life indeed?

Emma could have been talking about Clara’s life as Alfred. She was undeniably safer as Alfred, but safe was not happy. She had been living as a squire. As a person without ties to anyone or anything. Mayhap it was time for her to start listening to the people she trusted. She would attend this meal, speak to their visitors, and then to Alex.

* * *

There was something different about Clara.

She sauntered into the great room as lovely as ever, greeting him with a smile that held more promise than Alex could have hoped for.

Although he thoroughly enjoyed seeing her so relaxed, he was surprised to find her here at all. When he’d learned of Lord Edmund’s visit, he’d assumed she would panic. Instead, Lady Sara had informed him that Clara would be attending the meal.

They needed to settle things between them, and he would not be put off any longer. But it seemed his worries were unwarranted. Just after they sat down at the dais, she leaned over to whisper, “Tonight?”

The simple question, so poignantly asked, sent blood coursing to every part of his body, making it difficult to sit still. By the time the meal ended, Alex was left with no doubt about her meaning.

His English vixen had flirted with him from the first course to the last, and while he anticipated their night together, he looked forward to their future even more. He was eager to take Clara as his wife—the sooner, the better.

After the meal, she and Emma slipped out of the hall, but Clara gave him a little wave that promised she would return. Some of the hall’s occupants had begun to disperse. The lord and lady remained, though they moved to a table in front of the massive fireplace. Alex stood not far from the dais, deep in thought.

“So you are the brother of the man who took Bristol?”

Alex turned to find the aging Lord Edmund at his heels. Clara and Emma, he saw from the corner of his eye, had just returned to the hall. Where had they gone, anyway?

“I am,” he said, not sure how to respond to that.

Lord Edmund was just as Geoffrey had described him. If his grey hair didn’t proclaim the man’s age, his slight hunch certainly did. The man seemed less than bothered by his wife’s open flirtations with a knight who, by Alex’s estimation, would not be sleeping alone that night. Much younger and more attractive than Lord Edmund, Lady Maude seemed to be the last thing on her husband’s mind.

“Yet here you stand, an honored guest and well-treated, I’m sure, if I know Lady Sara.”

Though his words insulted, his tone did not. Alex chose to be amused by the old man.

“You know the lady well—”

“And her father before her. Less so her husband.” He gestured toward Geoffrey.

“He’s the best sort of enemy a man could have,” Alex said.

“Former enemy,” quipped Emma. She and Clara had just reached them and had obviously overheard the latter part of their conversation.

“Former,” he agreed, smiling not at Emma but at Clara.

Tonight, she wore gold. A gown meant to dazzle. . . which gave him an idea. While there’d be no time for gowns to be made before they left, Alex could surprise her by sending word ahead to the only tailor brave enough to visit Brockburg on occasion. Neither he nor his brothers made use of him often, but Catrina had used his services before moving to Bristol. She would know how to reach him.

He would surprise Clara with a new wardrobe as his wedding gift. He’d speak to Emma about it as they were the same size.

“My ladies,” Lord Edmund bowed his head and brought Emma’s hand to his lips, then Clara’s. It was a wonder the lord’s wife was not better charmed by her husband. Alex tried not to laugh at Emma’s expression. While Clara remained passive and polite, Emma did everything but pull her hand free.

“I must speak to Lady Sara about the wretched seating arrangements,” he said, evidently referring to the location of his seat, which had been at the very opposite end of the head table from the two visions before him.

“What brings you to Kenshire, my lord?” Alex asked, attempting to distract him from the women.

“Ahh,” he said. Waving a hand toward his wife, he made a face that Alex supposed was intended to convey his answer.

“What of you, Lady Susanna?” Lord Edmund said, turning to Clara. “You’re a friend of Lady Gillian’s then?”

Without hesitation, Clara nodded. “Aye, my lord.”

“And who is your father?”