times. “My master was killed at the Tournament of the King when I was but ten and six. I’ve been following the tourney ever since.”
“Who was your master? How old are you?”
“His name was Sir Robert Kinney. I am ten and eight.”
“Lady Juliette said you were from a prominent family.”
Something had raised his suspicions. For days he’d asked her nothing, and now he was asking question after question, so quickly that Clara was glad to have answers.
“Sir Robert claims my parents were both of noble birth. He was a vassal to my father, who lost his lands in a dispute with a neighbor.” Which was close enough to the truth.
“He claims?”
“Aye, my lord. I was orphaned as a young child. I knew them not.”
And that was where anything approaching the truth ended. A vision of the father she very much remembered, his slightly greying hair and beard, always a touch too long, fluttered through her mind, and the memory nearly made her eyes well with tears. But a male squire simply did not cry, so she willed them back and continued to stare straight ahead.
Directly at Alex Kerr’s chest.
He must have taken pity on her then, for rather than asking more questions, the handsome Scots warrior crossed his arms over his chest and continued to peer down at her.
Attempting to divert his attention away from asking further questions, Clara ventured to ask one herself.
“Have I displeased you?”
She looked up.
“Nay, Alfred, you have not. But I find myself with an English squire who is hesitant to take up a sword.”
His uncharacteristic scowl indicated he was not being completely truthful—she’d hardly ever seen him without a smile on his face—and Clara was eager to mend things between them.
“May I ask why your brother did not take me as his own squire?”
It was a question she’d been wanting to ask, and though she was hesitant to speak too much, she also needed Alex to relax his guard around her.
“He has one already,” he stated simply. “My own left for the Isle of Man well before Toren travelled to Condren.” He shrugged. “And Toren knows I’m always glad to teach a lad who’s willing to learn, even if I’m not necessarily in need of a new squire.”
It was exactly the opening she needed.
“And I am, my lord. Willing to learn, that is.” She said it with sincerity, and though he didn’t quite smile, she could tell he at least believed her in this.
“I’m glad to hear it, Alfred.”
He nodded and began walking the well-worn path back to the keep.
She followed.
Lord, the man was large.
She did not want to pry, and perhaps it was a mistake to continue a conversation that had surely gone on for long enough, but something he’d said had struck Clara’s interest. Or, more precisely, how he’d said it.
“You don’t like the English.”
He looked down at her and winked. “Nay, I do not.”
His expression did not match his words.
“I am English,” she said, as if he had not already known that fact.
“I’m well aware of it. With luck, you are one of the few who can be trusted.”
Clara couldn’t tell if he was serious, or if the words had been said in jest.
“And yet you’ve two English relatives.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. She certainly had not meant to say that.
“And an English squire,” he added. “Alfred, do not mince words with me. If you truly are to serve me, I’ll not have you minding everything that comes from your mouth. Do you understand?”
“Aye, I do.”
“So if you’re so inclined to call me a Scottish bastard, then do so. You are to be my squire, not my handmaiden.”
Good lord, never that! She imagined assisting him in undress—
“But I do insist on one thing,” he said, his tone serious.
They had just emerged from the trees, and the magnificent sight of Brockburg Castle loomed high above them.
“Anything, my lord.”
He stopped, and she followed his lead. She looked up at him, the sun setting behind him in a magnificent display of orange and blue. Though not quite as magnificent as the sight of this powerful, alluring man towering above her.
“Do not ever lie to me.”
“Alfred, what do you think?”
Juliette stood in the great hall, looking at the new tapestries that had been hung on the walls.
Two days after Alex’s ominous warning, Clara continued to avoid him as much as possible. She was eager to leave before he appeared for supper, but she also wanted to help Juliette, who was determined to transform