Page 6 of Laird of Smoke
Nuns were notoriously well-educated.A nun might ask him questions he couldn’t answer.Questions about scripture.Or Rome.Or what the Pope ate for supper.
He needed to get to a place of concealment and divest from his vestments before anyone grew the wiser.
Eve arched a brow as the Pope’s emissary fled in terror.
How rude, she thought.He’d bumped into her.Made no apology.And then set off again as if pursued by demons.
She frowned in disappointment.Perhaps that was the way of those close to the Pope.Perhaps they had no time for ordinary folk.
Or perhaps Roman law forbade men of the cloth to speak with women.
Or maybe he thought the collision washerfault, that she’d planted herself in his holy way.
At any rate, his stride was too long for her to attempt to chase after him.She feared the effort would have been useless anyway.Gazing at him at such close range had left her utterly tongue-tied.
She wondered if all Romans were so handsome.His sun-kissed skin had glowed from the shadow of his hood.His dark eyes had gleamed with divining interest.His mouth had softened and then tensed as he turned to go.It was a face she’d never forget.
Then she blew out a dissatisfied breath.She supposed she’d come to Perth for nothing.She was no closer to performing a great act of service than before.She’d been unable to even send along her best wishes to the Holy Father.
As for the Pope’s man, he’d apparently achieved what he’d come for.The king and the lairds were all smiles when they emerged from the castle.Spying from the back of the crowd, she learned King Malcolm had even granted Sir Gellir and his loyal maidservant Merraid permission to be wed.
At least someone was enjoying a happily-ever-after ending.
Lingering a bit longer, she overheard the soldiers talking about an upcoming tournament in a fortnight.The king had insisted Sir Gellir’s nuptials take place at Perth.And because it was a Rivenloch affair, a tournament would naturally follow.
Eve smiled to herself as a new plan formed in her head.Perhaps all was not lost after all.
Chapter 2
Adam squinted through the slit of his jousting helm.
A fortnight had passed since he’d shown up at Perth as the Pope’s emissary.Long enough for the king to forget his face.Still, it was wise to keep his identity secret.Particularly since most of his clan was here to celebrate Gellir’s marriage with a royal tournament.
He eyed up his opponent across the list.
It was his cousin Brand, mounted on his destrier, impatient for battle.Even with a great helm covering his face and his lance at rest, Brand had an ominous presence that made him look ready to kill.
But Adam wasn’t afraid.Brand’s growl was worse than his bite.Besides, Brand had recently discovered that ladies preferred knights who were merciful over those who were ruthless.Adam was confident Brand would cause him no intentional harm.Not at a friendly wedding tournament.
There was a good chance Brandwouldknock him off his horse.Adam had had to purchase an inferior beast he’d never jousted on before.And jousting wasn’t his best event.He preferred contests that required dexterity and speed rather than brute force.
He also preferred to fight under an assumed name.Which was why today he’d been introduced only asLe Goupil,the Fox, of Paris.He had donned weathered leather and pitted armor, a helm swathed in russet silk, and a dark blue surcoat featuring a snarling fox.
Competing anonymously allowed him to engage in the challenge of combat without the risk of bringing dishonor to the Rivenloch name.
He’d already come to terms with the fact that he would never be the warrior his cousins were.He would probably never even best his older sister, Feiyan, who had trained with their mother’s master from the Orient, Sung Li.
Adam certainly had no wish to disappoint his parents at a public tournament, especially one overseen by the king.If he competed as Adam la Nuit, he’d be judged by Rivenloch standards.But fighting as an unknown, he might be praised for his talents.
Adam did have considerable combat skills.He was observant.He learned by studying.By mimicking the battle techniques of his kin—Gellir’s fine swordsmanship, Feiyan’s dexterity, Hew’s skill with an axe, Jenefer’s archery—he had come close to mastering them.So it was a rewarding challenge to do battle with his cousins.
He had to admit he also derived a certain satisfaction from deceiving his clan with his many costumes.
“Sir Brand Cameliard o’ Rivenloch,” the herald announced.
An enormous cheer went up from the clan as Brand lifted a hand in acknowledgment.
“Ridin’ againstLe Goupilo’ Paris.”
