Page 67 of The Scot’s Secret

“Shall I tell her you’re coming?”

Clara had forgotten the girl’s presence.

“Aye,” she said, following her out of the chamber and down the long passageway that led to the lower floor. Clara made her way toward the balcony that overlooked the hall, wanting to see Alex before he spied her first. Unfortunately, a guard, the man ever present at the top of the stairs, stepped in her path.

“My lady,” he said, holding out his arm.

Normally she was perfectly capable of descending the stairs on her own. This evening, she wasn’t so sure. A harp played a soft melody below, and the clangs of metal, preparations for the first course, could be heard as they approached the winding staircase that led directly to the hall’s east entrance. As they stood at the top, she could see below for the briefest of moments before they began to walk down the stairs.

With her free hand, Clara clutched her dress, pulling it upward in an attempt to avoid spilling headfirst into one of the wall torches that lit their way. As they wound their way down, Clara caught brief glimpses of color and lights. Candles and people.

She couldn’t look.

Finally, they were at the bottom.

It took just the briefest of glances to find him.

Alex, along with his host, was staring at her. In fact, everyone seemed to be doing so. Clara wanted nothing more than to turn and run back up the stairs. She was so used to looking down to avoid suspicion—and attention—that she found herself doing so now.

The knight beside her released her arm. She murmured her thanks as Emma came running up beside her.

“Lady Susanna, where have you been? We were worried you may have taken ill.”

If that was a question about her well-being, Clara’s answer came easily enough. “I just may yet,” she said. Emma laughed, but Clara was not jesting.

She allowed Emma to lead her around the trestle tables toward the back of the hall. She stared at the raised platform, looking at the shining silver goblets and candles that seemed to be everywhere. She focused her gaze there. . . anywhere but on—

“Lady Susanna?”

Him.

She and Emma stopped as the others moved around them, making their way to the dais.

She turned, and Emma let her arm drop. Geoffrey’s sister winked as she joined the others, abandoning her with Alex.

Was he angry? Confused?

He looked neither. Alex’s perpetual grin was back, a welcoming smile that made everyone around him feel compelled to speak. To bare their soul as she had done. The smell of sandalwood competed with his own unique scent. Her fingers ached with the need to touch him.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, but it appears there is no one to introduce us.”

He was enjoying this. Clara was not. Anxiety crept up her spine.

“Your reputation proceeds you, my lord,” she said for the benefit of the servant threading

his way around them.

Alex bowed. “Alex Kerr of Brockburg,” he said, taking her hand.

His eyes glinted as he lowered his head and touched his lips to her flesh. A flood of warmth flowed from her hand to the rest of her body. His lips stayed there just a moment longer than was proper.

“And I—”

“Are the most beautiful woman on either side of the border,” he finished.

He let go of her hand, and Clara was saved from giving him yet another false name. It wasn’t the first time he had complimented her. But it was the first time she felt confident enough in herself as a woman to believe him. His eyes never left her face, and his expression. . . it was if he saw her for the first time. And in some ways, perhaps he did.

“You are most gracious, my lord.”