The Scot's Secret - Cecelia Mecca Page 0,5

stood, so tall and proud, as if he were the chief, not his brother.

Though all three brothers were heavily muscled—she’d seen Toren’s chest more than once since serving him at the tournament—this one was just slightly wider. His hair was darker than his elder brother’s, a shade somewhere between dark and light brown, and shorter too. More dangerous yet, it capped the most perfect face she’d ever looked upon. The color of his eyes was masked by the lighting in the hall, even though there was an abundance of candles. His face was slightly square, and a few days’ growth gave him a more ominous look than his clean-shaven brothers.

In a past life, Clara would have been appalled by her honest perusal of the man, but she’d seen much in the past year, and it seemed silly to pretend otherwise. He was finely built, and she was not ashamed to admit it, even to herself.

“Welcome to Brockburg, lad,” the object of her admiration said. “I hear you’ll be training with me.”

Clara looked down just enough not to give insult. This was Alex? She could not train every day with this man. He was simply too distracting.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said in a husky voice that she’d perfected. Clara couldn’t even remember what her real voice sounded like.

“And as a son to a very prominent family in England, you will, of course, be given your own quarters here in the castle,” Lady Juliette said firmly. She delivered the lie without flinching or giving herself away in any manner.

A prominent family in England? So that was Lady Juliette’s plan. Clara tried not to appear surprised. The lady was extremely thoughtful. While it was true she’d helped bring Toren and Juliette together, the chief and his wife had already done more than enough to repay her. Bringing her here was repayment enough.

She nodded and peeked up again at Alex. He looked at her the way most did, as if she were a young boy and nothing more. The cap, the dirt, the loose, long-sleeved tunic. . . all Gilbert’s creations to ensure she went overlooked. And all quite effective these past years. But suddenly, for the first time since they had run from home, Clara wanted to be herself. The girl whom everyone had said would grow up to be a beautiful woman “like her mother.”

That was a dangerous thought indeed.

“Alex,” the chief said, “so kind of you to send a greeting party for the new lady of Brockburg Manor.”

Alex’s attention turned from her as the Kerr brothers bantered back and forth in a manner that indicated they’d had plenty of practice. Lady Juliette glanced at her and winked. She smiled and then immediately bowed her head toward the ground.

Gilbert had warned her against smiling. She’d once thought him overly cautious, but his worries had proven quite practical. A knight who’d paid Gilbert to repair his sword during a small tourney had come to their tent to fetch it. A kindly man, he’d overpaid Gilbert, declaring his work worthy of a greater fee than had been asked.

The man had joked with Gilbert, and Clara had momentarily forgotten herself. She’d smiled, and the man had immediately walked toward her. He’d lifted her chin, turned to Gilbert, and then turned back to her. Clara had been discovered. Though they’d left immediately, and without incident, it had served as a much-needed reminder. She could never let her guard down.

“Your smile is your mother’s,” Gilbert had said. “As bright as the midday sun. Not the morning one just peekin’ out, but one high in the sky, warming everyone in the land with its bright and beautiful rays.”

She’d chided him for his poetic sensibility, something she’d actually come to love about the man who’d become like a second father to her. Though he couldn’t read himself, Gilbert had loved to listen to troubadours’ tales and often sought them out at tourneys, sometimes at the expense of coin he could be earning.

Clara pulled herself back to the conversation around her. The man who would be her master caught her eye and walked toward her.

“Toren says you are to be my squire.”

Was he unhappy about the fact? The others moved toward the high table, but Clara was no longer hungry. Could she really stay disguised as this man’s squire? He looked at her in a way that made her feel he could see straight through her.

“Aye, my lord.”

“I’ve not had one before,” he said and shrugged. “Tomorrow is soon