eyes, Clara couldn’t be sure. But rather than bring her inside, the older woman pulled her to the side of the inn.
“Are they after ye?”
Clara smiled. Albri was fond of saying exactly what was on her mind.
“There are men looking for me,” she started, pausing to search for the right words. How could she convey the importance of misdirecting Alex without unintentionally putting him in danger? If Edgar and Albri thought he was a threat to her, they would not rest until that threat was eliminated.
“Well, of course there are—”
“Nay, Albri, different men. A Scot. Not a bad man,” she rushed to explain. “In fact, he is a very good man. But. . .” She hated to do this, but it was the only solution she could think of. “I just don’t care for him. In that way.”
She did not want him to be harmed. And if Albri had any indication of her true feelings for Alex, he’d be welcomed into Keston House like a king.
Albri’s eyes widened. “He knows?”
Clara nodded, looking down the road as the sun rose higher in the sky. “He does. And please—” she emphasized her next words, “—please do not do him any harm. I just. . . he is not someone I care to be with.”
Albri scrutinized her face, and Clara prayed she looked sincere.
Please, please believe me.
“If you’re sure—”
“Yes! I am sure. Oh Albri, thank you. Bless your heart. I promise one day. . .” She could not help her now, but if she was ever in a position to repay the woman for her kindness, Clara would do so.
“Come then.”
Clara followed her inside, where most of the inn’s visitors still slept. The two-floor building, along with a separate kitchen and stable, featured more than one depiction of a magpie. From the sign hanging outside to the large tapestry that hung inside the common room, the good omen seemed to have worked thus far. Despite its location along the border and its questionable reputation, Keston House not only remained standing, but it continued to thrive, making its owners wealthy.
They climbed the stairs and Albri drew out a key from her pocket. “I’ve only got one room. Your merchant will have to sleep in the stable. I’ll go outside and tell him as much.”
So much for the ‘the best Keston has to offer.’ Albri handed her the key with a warning. “If yer worried about being caught, stay away from the window.”
Clara understood immediately when she opened the door. The room was front facing with a view of the entrance below. Not an ideal situation, but it would have to do.
“Leave the rest to me.”
With that, Albri closed the door behind her. Clara had just begun to undress when the older woman returned with a bowl of stew and two thick slices of bread.
“Eat. And don’t you worry about your Scot.”
Despite the warning, Clara peered out of a crack in the shuttered window. She watched as Albri, now accompanied by her husband, forced her companions to bring their cart around to the back of the stable. Of course! If Alex saw it, he would surely question them. A few moments later, they emerged once again, and Albri handed the man and his nephew two loaves of bread. She pushed the merchant’s hand away. She wouldn’t take his coin.
Clara smiled. She’d come to the right place. Now, if she could just remain hidden. . .
The room was much smaller than the one she’d occupied at Brockburg. And nothing like her chamber at Kenshire. But it was clean, and that was all she cared about at the moment. That, and keeping Alex and her friends at Kenshire safe.
She ate hungrily, listening to the sounds of the inn coming to life around her. A bang here and there. Voices outside her room.
After she finished her meal, Clara lay down, not even bothering to turn down the blanket. She was exhausted.
She’d just begun to drift off to sleep when she heard it. Nothing about the voices should have woken her, but nevertheless she knew.
He was here.
Springing up from the bed, she did the one thing she knew she should not do. Closing the shutters so that barely a slit remained, Clara looked out.
And immediately began to cry.
29
“H
ow long ago was she here?”
Alex looked at Geoffrey, whose expression showed the same skepticism he was feeling.
“At daybreak, mi’lord.”
If Geoffrey’s descriptions of the innkeeper were true, she was more biddable than he would have thought.
He and the others stood in front