Page 62 of To Love

Everything had unfolded faster than Alden could sheath his sword.

Not wishing to allow the maid from her sight until the priest was apprehended, Elara took the maid abovestairs to her own chambers and bid her rest. When the sun had not yet risen, as she bid them to do, he, Roland and Darien fetched Gareth, who in turn alerted Eamon and the others that an emergency meeting would be held. Not wishing to meet in the castle for fear Father Percival would notice, it was set for midday at Ashford Manor.

All classes had been canceled under the guise of “final preparations for the mission.” By now, all believed they were headed a few days hence to Reading to rendezvous with Matilda’s other forces. Though Alden knew the truth of it, that they would be going to Winchester, the fact remained that he would leave soon.

That he could be seeing Elara for the last time, not having known all of her, not having made love to her, not claiming her as his own in truth, did not bode well with him. Darien had accused him of acting particularly onerously, and Roland had readily agreed.

Elara had left some time ago, with the maid, and Alden could not simply wander the castle grounds any longer. He’d trained with Darien and Roland. Ate. Wandered into the garden where he spoke to Elara some days ago.

There is nothing simple about you, Master Alden.

He sat, head in his hands, on the stone bench. Despite his part in uncovering the priest, Alden did not agree with her assessment. He was a simple man, a blacksmith’s son with little to offer except himself. That just wasn’t enough for a woman like Elara.

And yet, he meant what he had said to Darien. The thought of her being with another man . . . Alden could not bring himself to imagine it. When he claimed her as his own, Alden had meant the words.

She is mine.

Perhaps if he said it enough, it would be so.

She sees in you what we all do—a man of honor and courage. Take that step forward. You might find she’s been waiting for you to make it.

He would prove himself.

Alden would prove himself to the one man who could offer him the thing he wanted most, before meeting Elara. Earning his spurs through Roland would see Alden meet his goal, but only because he had befriended the earl’s son. That was not how, or why, he wished to become Sir Alden.

But Lord Stirling could see it done. Alden simply had to prove to him, on the battlefield, that he was worthy of such a boon. Alden had once spoken to Gareth about the possibility, and his friend agreed that the instructor’s status and title would allow for it, but he’d also agreed it would not be easily won. He was a hard man, but Alden was determined.

And then, he would offer for her.

She would very likely decline. What, besides his love, did he have to give her?

“I was told I could find you here.”

He hadn’t even heard her coming. Alden stood, wanting so badly to open his arms to her. But although they were alone, daylight would allow any guards on the battlements above to see them, if they were looking. It was also not inconceivable someone could stumble upon this sanctuary of Elara’s.

“Odd,” he said. “I did not tell anyone where I was going.”

“No,” Elara said, moving toward him. She sat on the stone bench beside him. “But Darien said you seemed out of sorts. Since you were not on the training field, or in your chambers, I realized you had likely come here.”

That he’d only been here once before did not seem to sway her. Elara’s deduction skills were as impressive as her intellect. “I see.”

She looked so beautiful, Alden had difficulty not moving closer. Not touching her. Or taking her into his arms and kissing the woman he loved.

For there was no doubt that he loved her. And had done so for a very long time.

“He has been apprehended.”

That surprised him. “By whom?”

“Eamon and Stirling. There was discussion on how to proceed. By discussion, I can only say the council agreed to disagree on a path forward. Lila recounted the same story she gave to us, but Ashford was reluctant to move forward without evidence.”

“Was the maid not evidence enough?”

“Apparently not. You know how the man feels about women. Apparently, he has even less of a favorable opinion about servants. It ‘sickened’ him—that was the word he used—that Baron Monteforte’s nephew married the woman, never mind that she bears his child.”

“I suppose he was remembering his own daughter’s secret marriage.”

“By the same priest, no less.”