He knew Merraid wouldn’t breathe a word.
And his cousin Gellir would never disclose his identity.Indeed, Gellir had aided him, taking Adam’s satchel for safekeeping while the “Pope’s messenger” handled the negotiations in the keep.
But as Adam brushed past his cousin to surreptitiously retrieve the satchel, he spotted an entire company of familiar faces.
Shite.
His whole clan was here.
Seizing the satchel and pulling his hood low over his eyes, he reversed direction and turned back toward the castle.
Damn.
A pair of puffing, red-faced monks were swiftly waddling his way.No doubt they wished to speak with the esteemed emissary of the Pope, hoping His holiness would rub off on them.
Adam angled again, striding off toward the forest so abruptly that he knocked someone aside.
A swift glance told him it was a wee figure in gray.
A second glance revealed it was a lass.A lass whose breathtaking face was instantly engraved on his mind.
He hesitated, intending to apologize, but unable to form words.
A third glance revealed she was a nun.
She opened her mouth to speak, and panic widened his eyes.
He whirled to make a hasty escape.
The naive King Malcolm had been easy to impress.A pair of awestruck monks he could handle.But a nun?
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.
