Page 19 of Laird of Smoke
Until she added, “’Tis only that I would have preferred ye use more brain and less brawn.”
His jaw dropped.More brain?Did she not understand he was outnumbered two to one?Did she not know the intellect it had required to perfectly time his attack?The strategy it took to subdue them both?
Before he could sputter out a reply, she shouldered her satchel.That incriminating wool hood was peeping out of it again.Which reminded him…
“Ye still haven’t told me who ye—”
“Ye’ll have to forgive me,” she said with a disarming smile, “but I really should be goin’.’Tis nigh dark, and I’ve a wee bit farther to travel.”She turned and, with a dismissive wave of her hand, headed down the road.“Farewell.”
He watched her with narrowed eyes.She was a clever one.She’d managed to avoid his question.Again.
But Adam wasn’t about to give up.
Besides, those thieves were probably lying in wait ahead.They were desperate men.They would resort to desperate measures, no matter how confident their intended victim was in the power of redemption.Their brief altercation with Adam wasn’t enough to dissuade them from making another attempt at a lucrative haul.
It was a matter of common chivalry to follow her.
Eve was trembling.Hopefully not so much that the man who was still—unbelievably, stubbornly—following her could tell.
She wasn’t trembling from the fact he was following her.She couldn’t realistically expect him to turn around and go back into the woods when Scone Priory was so near.
She wasn’t trembling from her encounter with the thieves.She’d faced down outlaws before.
She wasn’t even trembling from the fact that Adam—or whoever he was—was prying into her identity.It happened so often when she was disguised as Lady Aillenn, she’d gotten very good at evading questions.
She was trembling because her arm was still warm where he’d enclosed it in his fist.
Her heart was still racing from the way he’d gazed into her eyes.
Her body was flushed with heat from the wicked thoughts that had flown through her mind when she’d asked the handsome rogue what he intended.Thoughts like what his mouth would taste like.How his strong arms would feel around her.What it would be like to have his powerful body pressed to hers.
She’d never felt like this before.Not when—posing as Lady Aillenn—elegant noblemen had flirted with her.Not when—dressed as the milkmaid Maggie Gall—she’d been wooed by stable lads and gardeners.Not even when handsome Sir Hew of Rivenloch had sworn his undying love to her.
What was wrong with her?
She’d always been able to keep her base urges in check.It had annoyed her how much the abbess had impressed upon the convent sisters the need for chastity.The abbess had advised, when earthly desires proved too much of the Devil’s allure, the nuns pray doubly hard for willpower.
But Eve had never been tempted.The men she’d met had never turned her head, warmed the cockles of her heart, or, as the abbess liked to say, kindled the fires of her womanhood.Indeed, she always thought the abbess devoted far too much attention to the issue of carnal temptation.
Now she had to wonder.
It wasn’t that Eve had disavowed pleasure.She wasn’t made of ice.There were plenty of earthly indulgences that excited her.
The soft summer breeze brushing her bare cheek.
The delicious aroma of Sister Eithne’s leek pottage.
The magical music of minstrels echoing in a great hall.
Snow sparkling in winter trees.
But this was different.This feeling was quite unsettling.It threw her off-balance.Confused her thoughts.Destroyed her good intentions, in the same way the bee had destroyed Jenefer of Rivenloch’s aim in the archery contest.
She had to be rid of this man.This giddiness was dangerous, considering the vulnerability of her identity and her very serious purpose.
Without turning, she called out, “I know ye’re followin’ me.”
“I’m not followin’ ye,” he called back.
