Page 85 of Laird of Smoke
Adam would be damned if he would surrender the centuries-old Rivenloch estate to the English.
It was his responsibility to protect his clan.That meant he had to find a way to give the king the advantage against Fergus.
Adam retired to the cell the nuns had offered him.He lit the sconce and sat on the thin pallet that was definitely not goose-down.
What was the best way to help the king?
He’d go to Galloway, he decided.He’d spy on Laird Fergus.Using a false identity, Adam could become a trusted ally to Fergus and learn what kind of fighting force he had.Who his strongest warriors were.What weaponry they preferred.Where their weaknesses lie.
So busy was Adam concocting his strategy, he forgot for a moment about the woman he was supposed to be following.He was abruptly reminded when he opened the satchel, searching for possibilities for a new disguise.
Aillenn’s flowery scent, lingering on the scarlet velvet of her gown, wafted out of the satchel, transporting him immediately to the heavenly night of their tryst.
It would be a long while before that memory would fade.
But for now he had to push it aside.
Sorting through the garments, he decided they were completely inadequate.Too small.Too tight.Too frail.Hehadto find Aillenn and get his satchel back.It was a matter of life and death.
Now that he was on a royal mission, he needed every tool he owned.Not the least of which was his Rivenloch medallion.If things became desperate, his true identity—his tie to the Rivenloch clan—was his defense of last resort.
The coat of mail felt even heavier on Eve’s body than it had in the satchel.Perhaps because it added to the guilt already weighing heavily on her shoulders.
It was ludicrously long, hanging past her knees.But she figured she could pass for a young knight who’d inherited his older brother’s armor.
Adam also had bits of plate armor in his satchel—epaulets, poleyns, sabatons.But they were difficult to attach without the help of a squire.The mail would have to do.
Adam’s boots were huge.But she would make them work.She supposed, as with hounds, it wasn’t unusual for a lad’s feet to grow first before the rest caught up.Still, she needed to stuff them with linen just to walk without blistering her heels.
She slipped his blue tabard over the mail.Then she affixed his sheathed dagger to his belt and buckled the belt around the tabard, making sure it wouldn’t drag on the ground.
She secured her hair with a leather tie and settled his chain mail coif over her head.
This new character would be Sir Peredur from Gwynedd.For simplicity’s sake, she decided his mother and father had died of fever.His older brother had been killed in battle, leaving Peredur his armor.He was a mercenary, lending his loyalty and his sword—or in this case, his dagger—to a laird who would see him housed and fed.
She imagined shedidlook like Peredur, the hero in the lore of Cymru, who’d only seen knights from afar and tried to emulate their appearance with the materials at hand.At least she hadn’t needed to resort to wearing a bucket on her head or wielding a weapon made of wood.
Of course, Eve didn’t plan to fight.She’d simply offer her services for hire to the captain of the guard and leave on the morrow.The disguise was good enough to gain her entrance, a meal, and a place to sleep for the night at Rowallan Castle.
The fact that she had to bed down on the stone floor of the armory, crowded in between the sweaty, smelly, snoring ranks of the Rowallan men-at-arms would have been mortifying to any of her sisters at the convent.
But Eve had never been afraid of new experiences.That, of course, was what often got her into trouble.She never backed down from the challenges God put in her path, whether that meant dining with a king or sleeping in a stable.Rescuing a drowning lamb or saving a servant from a beating.Abducting a Rivenloch bride or exploring her own carnal desires with a handsome outlaw.
She furrowed her brows as she burrowed further under the thin wool coverlet someone had thrown her, using her satchel to distance the warrior next to her who kept trying to cuddle in his sleep.
If only he could be Adam, she thought with a sigh.She hadn’t realized how much she would miss him.His warmth.His gentleness.His affection.
She wondered… Could her sensual exploration with Adam have been part of God’s plan?
If so, what had been its purpose?
If it was only to teach her not to succumb to worldly temptations, it seemed like an unnecessarily heavy-handed lesson that had come at a cruel price.
And the curious thing was leaving earthly pleasure behind didn’t make her feel more devoted to the Lord.Indeed, she’d never feltlessconnected to God.She felt abandoned.
Adam had never made her feel abandoned.He’d insisted on following her everywhere.He’d cared for her.Protected her.Made her feel bright and beautiful.Visible.
And when he’d joined with her in body, in heart, in spirit, she’d never felt closer to the angels or more convinced of God’s miracles.
