And no archer lad could look so beautiful.The king, at least, had believed he was a lad.
Why then was Adam’s memory insisting they were all the same person?Were his powers of observation dwindling?
“But what about ye?”she challenged, holding up his fake beard between a thumb and finger.“Can ye explain this?”
He held out his hand.She dropped the beard into his palm.
To his chagrin, lies always came readily to mind.“Verily, I was hired by the king to follow ye.”
“Follow me?Why?”
“He was concerned for your safety.”
“The king?Concerned forme?”A furrow creased her brow.Apparently, the woman didn’t believe that.Perhaps she had a strained relationship with the king.
He continued.“Aye.King Malcolm posted us at the gate with instructions to see any unaccompanied ladies to their destination.”
“Is that so?”The subtle arch in her brow indicated her skepticism.“Then why the disguise?Why not send a knight in full battle dress bearin’ the king’s arms?”
Thatdidmake more sense.Damn, the lady was clever.He liked that.Even if it made his deception more challenging.
“’Tis less threatenin’.”He shrugged.“And most people don’t even notice old crippled beggars.They’re—”
“Invisible.”
“Right.”
“ButIsaw ye.”
“Aye, ye did.”That was remarkable.He’d grown so accustomed to disappearing into the shadows, melting into the crowd, moving unseen through the world, it was strange to be noticed.
“Well, ye’ve done your duty,” she decided.“Ye may return to the king and tell him I arrived safely.”
She was sending him away.Which was a pity.Despite her having him at a disadvantage by uncovering his disguise, he would have liked to get to know her better.
She was not only beautiful.She was bright.She was also bold, tugging on a stranger’s beard like that.
He rubbed his chin.For that offense, the least she could do was tell him her name.Then he wouldn’t make the same mistake again and confuse her with another.
“From whom shall I send word to the king?”he inquired.
She straightened proudly.“Lady Aillenn Bhallach.”It was a good Irish name.He was rolling it around in his mind when she added, “And ye are?”
He took a breath to reply.Then, to his alarm, he hesitated.Who was he?Was he William the beggar?Le Goupilof Paris?“Adam…”
Ballocks!He’d given her his real name.Why had he done that?He never gave strangers his real name.It was like handing a dagger to a thief.
“Adam…?”
“Greenwood.Adam Greenwood,” he improvised.
“Farewell then, Adam Greenwood,” she cooed.Then she gave him a nod, picked up her satchel, and swept past him back to the main road.
“Farewell, Lady Aillenn.”
He watched her depart, admiring the subtle sway of her scarlet skirts and the gentle bounce of her chestnut locks.Then he glanced at the large satchel she carried.
He scowled.
