Page 121 of The Scot’s Secret

“But—”

“You were gone. I cursed that I’d told you to run. Just a day later I awoke, but there was no sign of you. I reopened the wound and had to crawl back, much to the consternation of the squire who helped tend to me. But I had to search for you.”

Clara understood the pain he must’ve felt at losing her, because she’d felt it herself. Twice before. And now three times.

But he was really here. She wasn’t alone!

Alex.

Gilbert would not be happy when she told him how many knew of her secret.

“Gilbert,” she started, wanting to get it over with. “I’ve something to tell you.”

Edgar and Albri stood as if a string pulled them up together. They left, muttering something about tending to new guests.

She was grateful to be alone with the man who had saved her life.

“And I you. There’s someone who waits—”

“Me first, Gil. I need you to know. I’m so, so sorry.” She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “I told someone.” She bit her lip. That wasn’t exactly true. “I told a few people, actually. But before you chastise me, let me explain! I was so scared after you left. And alone. But I did okay, Gil. You’d have been so proud of me. This one time. . . never mind that. A man by the name of Toren Kerr, Chief of Clan Kerr, hired me. And he was so kind. I didn’t let on at all. I stayed in disguise, I promise. But. . .”

“His wife discovered your secret, they took you to Brockburg, where you met Toren’s second, who took you to Kenshire because, for reasons I’ll never understand, the man thought it appropriate for you to accompany him on his quest to find his mother here in England.”

As he spoke, Clara shook her head. No. He couldn’t know any of this. Unless. . . had he followed her this whole time? As he talked, Gilbert glanced toward the front door and nodded. Why was he. . . ? It couldn’t be. . .

It was.

Alex was there, filling the door to the inn as surely as he had the stables in Kenshire. He looked. . . relieved? Angry? She couldn’t be sure.

Clara looked back at Gilbert, gawking in shock.

“I met him on the road on the way here.” Gil took a swig of ale and glanced at Alex, who was walking toward him.

“I’m sorry, Gil. I. . .”

“Listen to me.” He looked at Alex again and shook his head. Alex stopped. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

She pulled her attention back to Gilbert.

“Nothing. Alfred, do you hear me?”

For so long that name had been her own, but now it sounded foreign on his lips.

“But you told me so many times. . .”

“I told you to trust no one. To tell no one. Aye. But that’s when you had me. You did the right thing. He’s a good man.”

A good man? Nay, he was better than that.

“But I’m in danger still. . .”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But you’re not alone any longer.”

She looked at Alex, who started toward them again. When he reached the table, he spoke as if they were the only two people in the inn.

“I was worried about you.”

The expression she couldn’t reconcile earlier was easily discernible now.