Page 94 of Laird of Smoke
She turned.No one was there.
She slowly turned back and continued down the path.But this time her ears were attuned to every sound.
There it was again.The crack of a branch, as if a heavy boot stepped on it, followed by a shuffle of leaves.
This time she didn’t stop.
Someone was traveling behind her.Not on the path.Just off the road.Moving through the trees.
She kept her pace steady and began humming as she walked.
As she suspected, her air of nonchalance made her pursuer less guarded.His footfalls became careless, and she could tell he was growing closer.
Was he an outlaw?
It was likely.But she knew how to handle outlaws.She didn’t have her dagger, but she had her wits, which were almost as sharp.
Several moments passed.She got through seven verses of the song she was humming.Still he made no move to intercept her.
What were his intentions?
There was a large alehouse just around the bend.Smoke rose from the roof.A donkey and two mules were tied outside.She’d be safe inside.
She ducked under the sign of the broom above the alehouse entrance and pushed the door open.The interior was dark, but she could make out the figures of several travelers who were quenching their thirst at tables scattered about the room.
She quickly headed for a bench in the shadows.
A maid emerged from the kitchens.Eve flagged her down to take her order.
“An ale, please.”
Before she could receive her cup, the door opened to admit a new visitor.
The man immediately scanned the room.In the dark, his eyes skipped over her.Then he frowned and turned to hang up his cloak.
Was he the one who’d been following her?
She drew in a sharp breath when she saw the insignia on his tabard.It was a red lion rampant on a gold field.The king’s crest.This man was a royal guard.
Was he here for her?
Several dire possibilities raced through Eve’s mind.
Her part in Carenza’s abduction had been revealed.
Someone had discovered the silver she’d given to the outlaws was counterfeit.
She’d been accused of murdering the bairn who’d died in her arms.
The king had found out she possessed the stolen Rivenloch medallion.
Adam had reported her as a fugitive outlaw.
She shrank farther into the corner as the man settled himself at a bench beside the door, a spot where he could survey the whole room.
He looked fierce, just the sort of strong and ruthless bear of a man that a frail ruler like King Malcolm would use to enforce his commands.
“Here ye are, m’lady.”
