The Scot's Secret - Cecelia Mecca Page 0,6

enough to begin your training. But I’m sure you are hungry now.”

“Nay,” she said, too quickly. The thought of food roiled her stomach. She’d not been this nervous traveling alone in the dark.

“Then come. I’ll show you to your rooms first.”

She followed him from the hall down a winding staircase, through an arched wooden door, and out into the courtyard. Brockburg Castle was a contradiction in so many ways. While they walked through a cobblestone courtyard, a clear sign of wealth, the passageway that led to one of seven towers—if she’d counted correctly—was overgrown with weeds. Like most hilltop castles, its design was compact, every necessity fit within its outer curtain walls.

She concentrated on the uneven path beneath her feet rather than the Scotsman she followed. It would do no good to dwell on his appearance. Experience had taught her that a man’s looks had little to do with his character. Besides, how was she to train with the man if she could not overcome her foolish attraction to him?

They entered a tower that contained, as far as she could tell, nothing more than sleeping quarters.

“There’s a storeroom below,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him up another set of winding stairs. “’Tis where they hide the bodies.”

“The bodies?” She couldn’t keep the alarm from her voice.

Alex barely broke a smile. “Of the squires who displease me, of course.”

So serious was his tone, it took her a moment to realize he chided her. They passed through a small iron gate and climbed nearly to the top of the edifice.

“As you heard, Lady Juliette has requested that you receive private chambers,” he called back. “’Tis a luxury not provided to our servants,” he said, arriving at a small platform and another wooden door. He lifted the iron handle and pushed inside. She followed him into a modest chamber devoid of any luxuries beyond a large bed without coverings and a single chair. It was clean, though a mite dusty, and she’d spied a wardrobe below in this same tower. If it was not already in use, it would prove most convenient.

Modest, aye, but much more than she’d expected. Lady Juliette had given her the invaluable gift of privacy.

“You can sit beside the arrow slit and see well beyond our borders.”

She walked toward where he stood and peered out of the small opening. Indeed, a most spectacular view lay beyond, though an even more impressive one stood next to her. He filled the room, which had become quite warm, and Clara backed away.

“Shall we return to the meal?”

She needed to separate from him. “I can find my way back, my lord.”

She placed the small sack of her belongings on the bed.

“Then I shall see you there. I don’t require personal assistance, except on the training yard. Despite your size, you’ll be treated the same as the others, so be sure to eat. You’ll need the energy.” He turned to leave. “Should you require anything, I am just above.”

He pointed to the high, wood-beamed ceiling as he walked back through the door, and Clara’s shoulders sank. Just above? She’d assumed his bedchamber was in the great hall. How could she possibly endure living so close to him?

You are his squire, Clara. What did you believe, that you’d never see the man?

“And Alfred,” he called back from the other side of the entrance. “Take a bath.”

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bath!

It should not have come as a surprising request. The well-placed smudges had saved her from being discovered, but they did not fit with her newly escalated status. Had she come as a lowly squire of no rank, her filth might have been accepted, even expected, but Lady Juliette’s story indicated that she was a visiting knight, not a typical servant. She could even request a maidservant of her own, which, of course, she would not do. Clara could not possibly have someone attend to her; it was too dangerous. Which meant she’d need to find bed coverings and something to clean the cobwebs from this clearly unused bedchamber.

A bath.

She imagined her handmaiden at Barrington, who had oft chided her for taking so many baths that a tub had been permanently positioned in her bedchamber. If only she could see Clara now. . .

Of course, she would need to keep the dirt, however it antagonized her new master. “Master Alfred,” a small voice called from behind the door.

It would seem her wish to remain without a maid was not to be granted.

“I am Ansley,” the young girl said.