Page 108 of The Scot’s Secret

It had felt so good to be herself, or at least mostly herself, that she’d ignored the inner voice telling her to be careful. A voice smothered by her love for a man she’d never see again.

Unless, of course, she sat here feeling sorry for herself. Surely he would realize what she planned. Or mayhap she’d angered him so much he would not care if she left?

She couldn’t even make herself believe it.

With incredible effort, she forced herself to stand, to retrace her steps and make her way back to Emma’s chamber. Once there, she quickly tore off the gown, glad for its simplicity, and undergarments. She laid the gown out on the bed, wishing she could leave Emma a note. Her tutor had wanted to teach her how to write, but her father had possessed rather ancient notions of a lady’s abilities. Her skills were more aligned with running a household or entertaining guests.

Until, of course, she fled her home with Gilbert. Since then, she’d acquired an entirely different set of skills, and she intended to put them to use now.

Once dressed, she pulled her sword out from under the bed, fastened it in place, and began to arrange one of her least favorite parts of the disguise. After fumbling with the pins, she placed the hat atop her head, Alfred once more.

She knew now, after a few days of exploring, how Alex had gotten past the guard at the top of the stairs that first night. If she could make it to the other end of the hall without being spotted, Clara could take the secret passageway down to a doorway just outside the kitchens. From there, she simply had to make her way outside and slip away unnoticed.

Only a few people knew of her disguise. She’d worried at first that some of Kenshire’s folk might ask about Alex’s squire. But Lady Sara had assured her they would not, and indeed, she’d attracted far more attention as a visiting noble than she had as Alfred.

She just had to avoid the few people who knew the squire existed.

Pushing thoughts of Emma and Alex aside, Clara concentrated on the task of getting out of Kenshire without being recognized. Once outside, she put her head down and looked for two things: dirt and a bit of privacy. Finally finding both in a secluded corner, Clara completed her disguise. Smearing the dirt onto her face, she breathed in the scent of baking bread streaming out of the kitchens, wishing she’d been able to take a meal with her.

As she’d done at Brockburg, Clara would be forced to leave on foot. Though Alex would forgive her stealing the mare he’d lent her for their travels, she could not risk getting it out of the stables without raising an alarm.

With every step she took away from the courtyard, she knew her plan was more and more likely to succeed. No one would question a boy, and it was much too early for her friends to start looking for her.

But they would, eventually.

Grateful to have found people who cared for her, Clara might have taken comfort from the knowledge they would certainly search for her. . . except it meant they would be endangering themselves, which was exactly what she hoped to prevent.

So it was with great relief that Clara found herself outside the castle walls and on her way to Kenshire’s village. She had the coin earned from squiring for Toren, which was enough to sustain her for longer than most stretches in between tournaments. With it, she could afford shelter and food until she found the next tourney to attend. She’d need to find a merchant to ferry her, but in the meantime, she’d do best to stay off the main roads.

For Alex would come, and for his sake, he could not be allowed to find her.

* * *

He’d found his mother after six years. He was regarded as one of the best trackers along the border. And yet, he could not find one woman, on foot, and though he was ashamed to admit it, Alex was beginning to worry. From the horrifying moment he’d realized Clara was gone, the dread that plagued him continued to intensify.

“You look like shite.”

He darted a glance at Geoffrey before dismounting.

“I don’t like it,” he said, not for the first time.

“Alex, darkness fell hours ago. We’ve knocked on every door in the village. Spoken to more people here than in Elkview. She’s not here.”

“Then I know where we’re headed next.”

“Tonight?” Geoffrey asked.

“If Sara were out there somewhere. . .”

He untied his mount from the post in front of the tavern where they’d intended to stop for a meal. There was no need for him to wait for an answer; Geoffrey had already re-mounted. Their agreement was silent—they’d eat when they found her.

“If Sara were out there,” Geoffrey said as they rode away, “someone would have already noticed a countess travelling alone, on foot, even if she did wear her breeches.”

Lady Sara tended to dress. . . unconventionally. . . at times, something his sister, Catrina, and Lady Juliette, no doubt, had begun to emulate. He was surprised he’d not seen her in such attire during their stay.

He’d once thought it unusual for a woman to wear breeches. If he found Clara, Alex would never again give a thought to what she wore. She could dress as Alfred every day for the rest of their life if it suited her. He just wanted her back.

His mind travelled back through the long, torturous day, looking for any clues that could help him find her. For any hope. After parting from Clara, he’d trained for the remainder of the day, though his mind had never strayed far from his love.