Page 33 of The Scot’s Secret

He laughed so loudly Clara was sure they’d be discovered because of it.

“We’re an unmarried man and a woman travelling alone. Clara, nothing about this journey is proper. Surely you know that.”

But she’d never sleep! She’d spend the whole night awake, tormented by the knowledge that he was right next to her. . . and she could not touch him.

“But to sleep together. . .”

“Gilbert taught you well. And I continue to be impressed by your abilities. But. . .”

“But?”

Alex opened his mouth, frowned, and then closed it again. That frown soon turned into a scowl. How strange. He always seemed prepared with an easy retort.

“Alex?”

“Damn it, woman. You’ll make me say it. You are. . . a woman.”

“And?” She still didn’t understand.

“St. Ann, give me guidance.” He looked up to the heavens. To pray to St. Ann or to avoid eye contact with her?

Finally, his gaze returned to her. “You may be skilled with that weapon.” He pointed at her sword. “But you are still a woman. I could not sleep at night knowing you were unprotected.”

“Unprotected? Who do you think has been offering me protection since Gilbert was killed? I do not need—-”

“There is only one tent. A fact I cannot change. Besides, it will be warmer that way.” He stood. “I’ll check on the horses before we retire.”

The cloak of night began to fall, and the brilliant orange-streaked sky was slowly being replaced by grey. She added a log to the fire, entered the tent they were to share, and quickly pulled a soft tunic and another pair of boy’s leggings out of her bag. She changed quickly into her night clothes and stuffed her other things into the satchel. Clara peered down at the two makeshift beds. Two linen coverings lay atop leaves that Alex had apparently gathered earlier in the evening. He must have stuffed additional material with extra clothing, as there were even two pillows awaiting them.

Though the fire was nearby, a chill quickly began to seep into the tent. Clara crept inside one of the blankets and turned toward the light of the fire, attempting to get comfortable.

“Try to sleep,” Alex said, entering the tent from behind her. “We leave at sunrise.”

She didn’t answer; she simply lay there, imagining how Gilbert would react if he could see her now. Would he be pleased she’d secured protection or troubled by how much she’d revealed?

Clara tried to ignore the movements behind her. Was Alex undressing? She’d already spied him without a shirt, and the mere thought made her eager to turn and look upon him. If she was to sleep at all tonight, Clara needed to stop thinking about Alex’s muscular chest.

“Tell me something of you,” she said quietly, without turning.

She could feel him lying down behind her. The heat was most welcome, though she’d not admit as much to him.

“Such as?”

“You would not reveal yourself to me before because I wouldn’t do the same, but you now know of Gilbert.”

He made a sound that could either be frustration or dismissal.

“There’s naught to tell.”

Clara was sure that was not true. “You are very close to your siblings. You’re lucky to have a sister and brothers.” If only she’d had someone else to share the burden of her father’s loss, someone to comfort her and grieve with her. He was, indeed, quite lucky.

“When our father died. . . at Largs. . . Toren became chief. Our father trained him well, and he does a fine job.”

“And Catrina?”

“My sister,” he said, a sweet fondness in his voice. “My mother left when she was still young, and I used to fear what the loss of her mother’s influence would do, but she’s become quite a remarkable woman.”

“It must have been awful when she was captured by the Waryns.” When the Waryn brothers had retaken Bristol Manor, Bryce Waryn had taken Catrina prisoner. Of course, the tale had ended quite differently from how it had begun, and the two were now happily married.