Page 36 of To Love

As they continued to bicker among themselves, Elara thought of the man she had brought into her confidence.

And into her bedchamber.

From an early age, Elara had considered herself unlike most women. She was taught not only to read and write, but also to negotiate and strategize. Elara knew no instruments, nor did she know how to embroider. Her father had taught her the value of independence, of not relying on any man, including him. That he did not pressure her into marrying was as unusual as her very upbringing.

Even more unusual? How quickly she had ceded control to Alden.

There was something strangely appealing in the words he spoke, his admission of being possessive, a thing that should have mortified her. Instead, as quickly as she decided she and Alden could never be together, not two sunrises later, Elara allowed herself to fall into his arms.

Correction.

His fingers. Very, very skilled fingers. What he had done to her—

“Do you not agree, my lady?” Eamon asked.

Unfortunately, Alden had distracted her too, more so than she wished to admit. “Pardon,” she said. “Will you repeat the question, Sir Eamon?”

Elara noticed Evelina looking at her curiously. Did she suspect something? If she knew about the traitor, she knew of Alden’s role, but certainly could not suspect there was anything untoward happening between them.

“Pembroke was saying he found nothing of interest, thus far, in the correspondence. I asked if we should consider breaking the seals of all documents delivered.”

Eamon knew she’d been a proponent of such from the start. “If we can do so and reseal them properly, aye. Otherwise, ’tis too dangerous. If the traitor knows we are suspicious, he or she may not make the mistake we need for them to make in order to be discovered.”

“If it is done with very gentle heat and a thin blade, I am certain none would suspect. It would be time consuming.” Pembroke did not seem to relish the task. “But I agree, it may be necessary. Most of the letters that are delivered to us are, indeed, sealed.”

Elara looked to each person sitting around the table. All nodded their heads.

“Let it be done,” Lord Ashford said.

“Have you learned aught else?” Bennington asked her.

“Nay,” she admitted. “Though I have put into place means to uncover any future plots which might be hatched. I truly believe, with very little movement from Matilda until now, the traitor has hidden themselves away.”

She had another idea. Somehow, she’d not thought of it. Until now. “Of course . . .”

Elara pushed aside Alden’s words, which slammed, unbidden, into her mind. That day, during the lesson on combat tactics, she’d asked the recruits to explain the importance of understanding their opponent’s weakness and strengths. Alden had responded, “It is crucial to get close enough to truly know your opponent’s vulnerabilities and desires. Sometimes, the best way to gain the upper hand is to . . . study an enemy intimately, understand their movements and anticipate their actions.”

She had forced her expression to remain neutral. Attempted to slow her racing pulse at his words, and the memory of precisely how close to her he had gotten the night before. Alden was more clever than she imagined, more sensual than she could potentially handle, along with her duties.

For example, every single person at the table waited for her to continue, and yet it was he who consumed Elara’s thoughts.

“Apologies,” she stammered. “If there was a mission they sought to undermine . . . one which we could contrive for the sole purpose of uncovering our traitor . . .”

“That is brilliant,” Gareth said. “Lady Elara, you are simply brilliant.”

“She is indeed.” Evelina beamed next to him. Elara was glad to have the lady both here and at Castle Blackwood.

“Thank you,” she said to them both.

“A trap.” Ashford stroked his beard. “Such a thing could work.”

Elara resisted rolling her eyes.

“Do you have a specific plan in mind?” Stirling asked.

Elara thought back to her last conversation with Alden. In fact, an idea was forming, but she would not reveal it. Not here.

Not ever. Not to anyone but Alden.