Page 99 of Laird of Smoke
He need not worry he’d be recognized.Not only did he look nothing like the long-haired, clean-shaven Adam the clan knew and loved.There were also so many contestants camped on the hillside, teeming in the courtyard, spilling onto the lists, he could have easily gotten lost in the crowd, even without a disguise.
The one precaution Feiyan had been careful to take wasnotinviting Fergus.For that, Adam was grateful.He’d lived long enough among the clan as the mercenary Ness MacNeill that he might not be so easily overlooked, even in his current attire.
Just to make very sure he wasn’t recognized, he decided to participate only in the archery.Today his name, appropriately enough, was John Schott.His costume was drab and unremarkable.Over a faded saffron leine, he wore a long, thickly padded brown gambeson that added weight to his frame.Beneath that he wore dark brown hose and brown boots.He covered his head with a flat linen coif topped by a brown cowl.His beard was now full enough to hide the contours of his jaw.
The most difficult thing to hide was his excitement at catching a glimpse of his sister holding Adam’s new nephew, Logan.He saw the surge of pride in Dougal’s eyes as he presented their son to the Rivenloch clan.
And then he felt a sharp pang of envy.Envy and loss.This was the kind of family he’d imagined making with Aillenn.One where he gazed at her with utter adoration.She gazed at him with complete devotion.And together they celebrated the bairn they’d made out of the sweetness of their love.
But it was not to be.Perhaps it would never be so for Adam.He had trouble imagining another woman with whom he could feel so honest, so enchanted, so free.
His throat thickened, and his eyes filmed over.
That wouldn’t do.He couldn’t aim a bow with watery eyes.And nothing would attract more unwanted attention than a weeping contestant.
Brusquely wiping his eyes with his thumb, he turned away from the touching sight.He flexed his bow to test its bend and examined the fletching of his arrows to prepare for the archery contest.
He paid little heed to the dozens of lesser contestants.It was rare anyone could best his cousin Jenefer.It was her he most wished to face.He doubted he could win.But he definitely wanted to try.
Many foreign archers were announced.Alfonso de Borja.Otto of Cologne.Abu ibn Yusuf.Falco de Malisio.Adam recognized none of their names.He only glanced up briefly when they were called.
Most of his attention was on the contented couple sitting beneath the canopy in the stands, his smiling sister and her proud husband, who were more interested in their children than the archery contest.
Again, his heart sank.
He wanted that.He wanted their happiness.
Never before had Adam longed for that sort of existence.He’d always assumed it wasn’t meant to be.
His was no kind of life for a wife, much less a child.He knew that.
Adam was too reckless.Too restless.Too invisible.An unpredictable shape-shifter like him could hardly expect to be known, much less loved, by anyone.
And yet Lady Aillenn had made him feel loved.
She’d appreciated his spontaneity.She’d admired his disguises.
With her, he’d almost been able to envision a blissful future.
“John Schott!”came a call in the distance from the archery field.
With her, he could imagine lazy morns… adventurous afternoons…
“John Schott!”
Passionate nights…
“John Schott!”
Adam started.
Shite.That was him.
“Aye!”he confirmed, “Here!”
He began to trot up through the line of archers.But so rattled was he at his wandering mind and his lapse in character, he tripped over his own feet and fell to one knee.
The archers around him snickered as his quiver slipped off his shoulder and the arrows slid out, scattering on the ground.
