Page 53 of The Scot’s Secret

They looked up, the four turrets of the keep towering above them and appearing to skim the clouds. But before they could enter through the doors Peter had just swung open, a woman appeared at the entrance.

“Alex Kerr,” the countess of Kenshire said, her voice firm and strong. “Why does your squire dress as a boy?”

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Clara simply stared.

She was quite spectacular in every way. Lady Catrina was certainly lovely, but there was something about the countess that stunned her into silence—and not just her words.

Lady Sara was dressed in purple velvet with a simple string of beads hanging from her waist, and her long sleeves draped low and waved on their own accord when she moved her arms. She stood tall and proud, as if Kenshire was hers, which of course it was. The massive double doors that led to the great hall should have made her appear small, but this confident slip of a woman filled them easily.

And now, with a few simple words, Clara’s secret was out in the open.

“I’m not sure—” Alex began.

“I’ll forgive that you’ve spent the past several nights attempting to keep yourself alive on the road. I’ll even look past the fact that you’re a Scot.”

Clara’s eyes widened until it registered that the countess was teasing Alex.

“But if you think to lie to me before enjoying the hospitality of Kenshire for whatever purpose you’ve come here to serve, then leave the girl and return to Brockburg. If you do so, and stop at Bristol on the way, please tell Catrina I offer greetings and good wishes, of course. I do adore your sister.”

Despite the fact that she just had revealed her secret, Clara immediately wanted to be this woman. She wanted to shed her boy’s clothes, her past, her present, and become. . . well, not the Countess of Kenshire, precisely, but as brash and fearless as the woman who wore that title. Despite the fact that she just outed her.

“I’d not presume to do so, my lady.”

Peter cleared his throat. “Shall we continue the conversation in the hall? Our guests are much in need of sustenance, I suspect.”

Lady Sara turned from them, which was when Clara realized. . . she was pregnant. She was not so far along that it was easy to tell from the front. But from the side, there was no doubt the countess would become a mother.

Although it was easily the grandest great hall Clara had ever seen, it nonetheless possessed a warmth that Brockburg lacked. Every wall was covered with colorful tapestries, the ceiling was spectacular in its height, and wooden beams crossed from one end of the hall to the other. What surprised her most was the number of people present. The trestle tables were filled with retainers, knights, and visiting nobles—or so she assumed.

As they walked toward the raised dais, Lady Sara reached out to touch her arm.

“Will you come with me?”

Clara looked immediately to Alex, not realizing she’d done so until Lady Sara glanced his way as well. Clearly agitated, he watched them closely.

“I will not hurt you, nor will I ask anything of you. I merely wish to speak with you.” Alex moved to follow them. “Alone,” she added pointedly.

Clara nodded her head in assent.

The lady of Kenshire led her toward an anteroom tucked at the front of the hall. A bench sat at the base of a rare stained glass window looking out into the courtyard.

“My lady’s maid, Faye, chastises me for wearing breeches,” Lady Sara said. “At least, a woman’s version of them.”

Clara looked down at her own attire. “You were in hiding as well?”

Her laugh was not the dainty laugh of a great countess but the hearty one of a woman who cared little about social graces. Clara already liked her. “There were days when I would have very much liked to be in hiding, but nay, I was not.”

Lady Sara pulled the long sleeve of her gown onto her lap and folded her hands. “Just this past year, this—” she swept her hands to indicate everything around her, “—was in jeopardy. My father had died, and his only male relative attempted to claim Kenshire for his own.”

Clara could tell by the quiet, serious tone of Lady Sara’s voice that she was sharing something important. But why? Why would she reveal herself to a stranger?

“But before his death, my father sent two reivers here to protect my inheritance.” She sighed. “And me.”

“Reivers?”

“Aye. And I was none too pleased. But it happened that one was a good friend of my father’s. The other?” The smile that reached her eyes told Clara all she needed to know. “Is now my husband.”