Page 79 of Laird of Smoke
The tears welled in her eyes, blurring the trees lining the path.But she could hear the trickle of a burn ahead where she could get a drink of water and wash her face.
She dared not linger, of course.She knew he would try to follow her.And he would have the advantage of being on horseback.
But he’d been sleeping peacefully when she left.At least she supposed he was at peace.Though she had to wonder how that was possible when he snored like an ox.
Her lips curved into a trembling smile.The fond memory made her eyes fill even more.
She stopped beside the burn, setting aside her satchel.Then she hunkered down to splash her face with the bracing water.
With her eyes squeezed closed, she groped for the satchel, intending to use the linen rag she kept on top to dry her face.It wasn’t there.Instead, she felt something made of leather, a bit of knobby fabric, a pair of scissors.
She frowned.Then she remembered Adam had dumped out the contents rather haphazardly yesterday to search for her mint.He’d probably been just as careless returning them to her satchel.
She opened one eyelid to take a better look.
Then both eyes flew open.
It wasn’t her satchel.
It was Adam’s.
In the dark, she must have picked up the wrong one.
“Shite,” she hissed, forgetting for a moment she was dressed as Sister Eve.
Now what would she do?
Patting her face dry on her veil, she considered her options.
She couldn’t go back to exchange the satchels.He’d surely be up and about by now.
But what would he think when he found she’d taken his belongings?
She sighed.She didn’t mind being thought of as an imposter.But she didn’t like being considered a thief.
“Bloody hell.”
This would only hasten his pursuit of her, no matter what her note said.
For now she had a few advantages.She’d left hours ago.And he didn’t know where she was headed.But he could make up for lost time and guess her direction.She’d have to be looking over her shoulder all the way to her next place of refuge, the convent near Cumbernauld.
Scrambling back onto the road, she easily felt the difference now.His satchel was much larger, heavier, full of things that rattled.How had she not noticed that before?
As she barreled along the path, it occurred to her that without her satchel she was missing the tools of her survival and the tricks of her trade.Without her lady’s gown and her archer’s garb, her maidservant’s rags and her monk’s robe, her false beards and her faux blonde hair, who was she?
Apparently, she was stuck as Sister Eve.Nothing more.She found that idea surprisingly distasteful and disappointing.
Then she began to wonder exactly what was in Adam’s satchel.There was no time to look now.But he’d told her the contents were a source of fascination among his clan.Her curiosity was definitely piqued.
She passed several travelers along the way, but thankfully, no outlaws.No outlaws except for Eve, who was apparently a genuine thief now.
After a long day of travel, not daring to stop for food, she was relieved to arrive in time for dinner at the convent.She was also relieved to have avoided interception by Adam.At least she told herself she was relieved.Still, there might have been a wee bit of disappointment mixed into her feelings.
That disappointment was sharpened when she retreated to her cell after dinner and opened the satchel.
It smelled like him.Leather.Chain mail.Spice.Soap.
The scent wafted over her like a cloud of yearning.
