even at this distance. Did this have something to do with the rumors Father Simon had mentioned?
“She did not deny it?”
The ominous tone to his voice seemed to affect the merchant as well, for the poor man began to have difficulty forming his words.
“No. . . she. . . uh, no. She bragged of it.”
After staring at him a moment longer, Alex dismissed the man, who rushed ahead, likely glad to be leaving Brockburg Castle.
Returning to her, he spoke as if not realizing she was a virtual stranger.
“The merchant brings word of my long-lost English mother, who is still very much alive, it seems.”
The sheer honesty and openness of the admission slayed her, and for a moment she could think of nothing else. Then the words themselves penetrated her mind. His mother? Clara had assumed both of his parents were dead. She’d never heard any mention, here or at Bristol, of either of them.
Nay, that was not true.
Clara did remember whispers of their father who was killed in battle. At Largs, perhaps? She could not remember.
“Never mind. Come.”
As she followed him down the steep path, Clara could see the merchant below them. So he’d brought word of a woman claiming to be Alex’s mother. An Englishwoman? Why was she not at Brockburg? Had she left of her own accord?
So many questions that would have to go unanswered. For the time being, Clara needed to concentrate on the training. If yesterday was any indication, it would be a long day indeed.
8
F
our days had passed since her tour of the castle. She’d seen little of Alex outside of the long, grueling training sessions. Clara had asked him more than once if he needed special assistance, but she was beginning to think Alex Kerr did not have a squire for a reason. Mayhap he did not want one.
Though he joked and laughed often enough and he was always surrounded by people—men during training, his family members at meals, and comely servants nearly every other time—there was one person he held back from speaking to.
Her.
She caught him looking at her more than once, so he was obviously aware of her presence. But each time she asked if he needed something, he declined her help. The day he’d shown her Brockburg, he’d partnered her with another squire in training, a young boy she’d not seen in the clearing previously, someone with whom she could actually train. And then he had promptly begun to ignore her.
If only she could do the same.
Clara’s eyes were always drawn to him. During their training, she sometimes caught him looking at her with interest, but it could only be her imagination. In his eyes, she was Alfred, not Clara. She’d told Juliette as much the evening before. Like she’d done twice already, Juliette had come to visit her in the somewhat lonely tower where she and her charge stayed. Clara was grateful for those brief moments with Lady Juliette when she could actually be herself.
Today had begun like any other day, with Alex ignoring her, so it shocked her when he waved away her companion in the lists and took up his sword against her. Gilbert had made her a blunted sword for training nearly as fine as the one he’d crafted for her to use in truth.
“Let us see what that weapon can do,” Alex said.
Though Clara was competent at the other exercises, and she could easily keep up with her new sparring partner, she knew she would need to dodge Alex in order to win. Clara could never overpower such a man. In fact, she’d not seen any present who had successfully done so with the exception of his brothers. Occasionally, the chief or Reid would succeed at besting Alex when they trained with him.
With the sun’s bright rays shining behind him, Clara lifted her sword and deflected his blows the best she could.
“You must not always remain on the defensive,” he shouted.
It was the only way she knew how to survive. But the maneuvers she’d learned were useless on him, and Clara began to despair until she finally found an opening. He was holding back, deflecting her gently, and in so doing, he was making himself vulnerable on the retreat.
She waited for the right moment, stepped back, and pivoted quickly, striking Alex with her blunted blade. He stared incredulously as her.
“How did you do that?”
She shrugged.
“Being small has its advantages.”
“My lord.” One of the men approached him, the red gash in his shirt growing.
“Go,” Alex said simply,