Alex would forgive her stealing the mare he’d lent her for their travels, she could not risk getting it out of the stables without raising an alarm.
With every step she took away from the courtyard, she knew her plan was more and more likely to succeed. No one would question a boy, and it was much too early for her friends to start looking for her.
But they would, eventually.
Grateful to have found people who cared for her, Clara might have taken comfort from the knowledge they would certainly search for her. . . except it meant they would be endangering themselves, which was exactly what she hoped to prevent.
So it was with great relief that Clara found herself outside the castle walls and on her way to Kenshire’s village. She had the coin earned from squiring for Toren, which was enough to sustain her for longer than most stretches in between tournaments. With it, she could afford shelter and food until she found the next tourney to attend. She’d need to find a merchant to ferry her, but in the meantime, she’d do best to stay off the main roads.
For Alex would come, and for his sake, he could not be allowed to find her.
He’d found his mother after six years. He was regarded as one of the best trackers along the border. And yet, he could not find one woman, on foot, and though he was ashamed to admit it, Alex was beginning to worry. From the horrifying moment he’d realized Clara was gone, the dread that plagued him continued to intensify.
“You look like shite.”
He darted a glance at Geoffrey before dismounting.
“I don’t like it,” he said, not for the first time.
“Alex, darkness fell hours ago. We’ve knocked on every door in the village. Spoken to more people here than in Elkview. She’s not here.”
“Then I know where we’re headed next.”
“Tonight?” Geoffrey asked.
“If Sara were out there somewhere. . .”
He untied his mount from the post in front of the tavern where they’d intended to stop for a meal. There was no need for him to wait for an answer; Geoffrey had already re-mounted. Their agreement was silent—they’d eat when they found her.
“If Sara were out there,” Geoffrey said as they rode away, “someone would have already noticed a countess travelling alone, on foot, even if she did wear her breeches.”
Lady Sara tended to dress. . . unconventionally. . . at times, something his sister, Catrina, and Lady Juliette, no doubt, had begun to emulate. He was surprised he’d not seen her in such attire during their stay.
He’d once thought it unusual for a woman to wear breeches. If he found Clara, Alex would never again give a thought to what she wore. She could dress as Alfred every day for the rest of their life if it suited her. He just wanted her back.
His mind travelled back through the long, torturous day, looking for any clues that could help him find her. For any hope. After parting from Clara, he’d trained for the remainder of the day, though his mind had never strayed far from his love.
At first he’d dismissed her fear. Lord Edmund, or anyone they met for that matter, could talk about the rebellion all they wanted. It was over. No one was looking for Clara or any of the others who’d sided against the crown.
But then he’d forced himself to imagine what it must have been like for her, a girl of only ten and eight, to watch her father murdered in front of her—the helplessness of it. He’d thought of the years she’d spent on the run, hiding, worried about losing her life if discovered.
He had been wrong to push her. If Clara needed more time, so be it. They could wait to be married until she felt safe. Or until she began to show a babe in her stomach. He loved her enough to go along with any plan she devised.
Except, of course, for this one.
The moment Emma hurried out into the yard, he’d known. . . he’d run back to the keep to verify what she’d told him, and as he stared down at the gown Clara had worn earlier that day, fear crawled through his body.
“Alfred’s clothing is gone,” Emma confirmed breathlessly, answering his next question.
Sara and Geoffrey followed them into the room, and after Emma relayed the previous evening’s conversation, they all understood that she’d run away.
“I never imagined—”
Sara looked especially pale, and Alex knew she blamed herself.
“How would you