Page 54 of The Scot’s Secret

Clara knew from Alex that Sir Geoffrey Waryn, brother to Sir Bryce Waryn, was the countess’s husband. Although he certainly had not told her the man had once been a reiver. Though she was still curious about the countess’s decision to reveal herself in such a way, she was too polite to pose the question. If the countess was attempting to elicit a confidence in return, she would be disappointed.

“And your relative?” Clara pressed.

Lady Sara sighed. “Was killed because of his attempt to end my life.”

Clara gasped. “He tried to kill you?”

“Tried and failed, thanks to Geoffrey.”

And now he was as powerful as any of the border lords.

“Come, you must be hungry.” Lady Sara stood, leaving Clara quite confused. Had she brought her to this room merely to tell her this tale?

“But, my lady—”

“Sara,” Clara corrected, silently grateful for the kind gesture of familiarity. “Sara. Why do you tell me this? You—”

“Want to know why you’re dressed as such? Aye, but if you wanted me to know, you’d not be hiding your identity.”

She began to walk toward the hall.

“But then why—”

Sara turned back to her. “Yes?”

“Why would you tell me, a stranger, that story? ’Tis a fascinating one, but. . . ”

Sara peered beyond the wall where they stood and out into the hall before glancing back at her. “Because any woman who dresses as a boy does so for either one of two reasons. Out of the desire to show those around her that she will not follow the rules, consequences be damned, or because she is afraid to reveal herself. I believe such is the case with you. . .”

“Clara,” she said, filling in Sara’s pause. Never had she given her real name so freely and so quickly to anyone.

“I believe you are hiding for important reasons, but in time, perhaps those reasons will change.”

With a swoosh of her skirts across the clean rushes, Lady Sara once again turned and walked toward the hall.

Still attempting to sort out the curious conversation, Clara stepped back into the hall and locked eyes with Alex, who had just lifted a spoon to his lips.

Relief filled his eyes, followed fast by desire. These past few days, Clara had found herself thinking of the moments they’d shared again and again. Of how he’d touched her breasts and kissed her and caressed her. . . It seemed she could think of little else with the exception of the tenderness he displayed each night, taking her into his arms to comfort her whenever her mind replayed the horror of her father’s murder.

And then she caught Sara’s eyes.

She knew.

The woman was so perceptive, it was a wonder she hadn’t already guessed her identity. The longer she stayed with Alex, the more and more mistakes she seemed to make. She might as well simply reveal herself to everyone this moment.

Clara had a decision to make while she was here, and though she wanted to put it off and pretend all was well, the memory of her conversation with Sara made her stomach clench in dismay.

Her vigilance was slipping, and what scared her most was that she didn’t seem to care.

* * *

Clara ate quickly, avoided Alex as best she could, and asked to be shown to her quarters. She was surprised when Sara escorted her personally to a well-appointed room in the East Tower, which afforded views of the shore and North Sea below. She was kindly given a water basin and soap made from wood ash and olive oil, scented with lavender. She recognized it at once, for it was the same sort she’d used in her life as Clara.

The bed, so much more comfortable than anything she’d been used to recently, beckoned to her, so she decided to take a short rest. Only she fell asleep. Peacefully.

When a knock startled Clara from her sleep, it took her a moment to realize she’d fallen asleep for the majority of the afternoon.

“Clara?”