Page 117 of Laird of Smoke
The fear in her eyes dimmed, but she flashed him a too bright smile.“Adam.”Her voice sounded shrill and strained.“What are ye doin’ here?”
“I could ask ye the same thing.”
She wasn’t fooling him.Guilt was written all over her face.
“I mean, ’tis a lovely surprise,” she gushed, avoiding the question.She pressed her cheek against his chest and gave him a squeeze, but it felt forced.“It seems ye were right.We do have a way o’ findin’ each other.”
He pulled her back to take a look at her painted face.“I don’t believe I’ve metthislady before.”
Faint alarm shot through her eyes like subtle lightning, so brief another man might not notice.But he could see it.
“Caterine,” she said with a French accent, clearly improvising on the spot.“I am Caterine of Paris.”
That wasn’t what she’d told the king.
“I see.”He lifted one of her coarse pale braids with a finger.“Horse hair?”
She nodded.
He brushed a finger across her cheek.“Chalk?And beeswax for your lips?”
“A lady likes to look her best.”Her tone was smug, but there was a tremor in her voice.
“The pattens are a nice touch.”
“They were…unwise,” she admitted.“But what about ye?”she said, going on the offensive.“Who is this man with the rusted mail and the patched gambeson?Is he part o’ your ‘somethin’ important to attend to’?”
Adam hadn’t expected her to turn the tables on him.He was so concerned with finding out Eve’s business with the king, he’d forgotten about his own secret mission.He couldn’t have her prying into his affairs.He couldn’t tell her who he was portraying either.
But just like her, he could invent characters from whole cloth.
He affected a gruff new accent.“Sir Walther, German mercenary.”
“And are ye here to fight for the king?”
“The king?”he said, feigning surprise.“Which king?”
Eve froze for an instant, obviously realizing her misstep.How would she know the king was here?
Recovering quickly, she shrugged.“Doesn’t every mercenary fight for the king?”
He chuckled in response.Evewasa fast thinker.
Still, she was getting too close to the truth for comfort.The fact she’d managed to talk her way into the king’s pavilion was bad enough.That she was feigning to be a person working on behalf of the Rivenlochs, a person who could easily be proven not to exist, was worse.But if she found out Adam was a spy, she would likely want to help him, and that would be perilous.
“Listen, Eve,” he said.“We need to leave.As soon as possible.”
“Leave?Why?”
“The woods are thick with…mercenaries.This is a dangerous place to be.”
“Is that what I heard in the forest as I passed?”Eve said, feigning ignorance about the king’s pavilion.“I thought ’twas a company o’ pilgrims.Are ye travelin’ with them?”
He avoided answering her directly.“Do I look like a pilgrim?”Before she could reply, he decided, “We’ll go to Castle Darragh.”
“The site o’ the tournament?”
He nodded.“I know the place well.’Twill be safe there.”
