She headed for the copse of trees where her satchel was stashed.
Meanwhile, Adam dug through his things.He supposed he could dress as the lady’s noble father.Or her servant.Or an elderly lady’s maid.
None of them appealed to him.What he truly desired was to be himself.To let Lady Aillenn know he was her peer.To reveal to her the real man behind the disguise.
But it was too much of a risk.People knew Adam la Nuit.For him to be seen traveling alone with a lady would set tongues to wagging.Which would be bad for both of them.
Perhaps he would come up with a new character.
He was already dressed in his white leine and dark blue surcoat, his velvet cap and fine leather boots, when she emerged in her scarlet gown.
“Ye look…” she said, stopping abruptly and searching for the right word as she perused him from head to toe with obvious approval.“Suitable.”
Her attraction pleased him.
“And who are ye now?”she asked.
He felt much better about kissing her, now that she looked like a woman and not a monk.
“I’m Ronan Bhallach.”
“Bhallach?”she squeaked.“My…my…husband?”
“Your brother,” he said, though now that he thought about it, husbanddidsound better.
“Ah, o’ course.”
Was it relief or regret he saw in her face?It didn’t matter.They needed to put distance between themselves and the priory.
“We should probably travelawayfrom Saint Andrews.”
“I was headed south anyway.”
“Good.We can probably make it to Dunnin’ ere nightfall,” he said, shouldering both of their bags.
“I can carry my…” she said, making a grab for her satchel.
“Don’t be barmy,” he chided in his best Irish accent.“Our da would wallop the piss out o’ me if I laded my wee sister like a mule.”
She giggled at that.It was a sweet sound.“Fine,brother.”
“So tell me about our kin,” he said as they set out toward Dunning.
Eve narrowed her eyes.If he thought he was going to unearth all her secrets, he was mistaken.The Bhallach history was completely fictional, and she’d invented it years ago.
“Our da, Tiarna Fursa, is a chieftain.We grew up near Kilkenny,” she told him.“When our ma died five years ago, he ne’er remarried.We have two younger sisters.”
“Whose names are?”
Hewasthorough.She wondered how he’d remember it all.It had taken her days to memorize Aillenn’s bloodlines.“Blinne and Caitilin.”A.B.C.She kept things alphabetical for easy recollection.
“Blinne and Caitilin, right, and our da is Tiarna Fursa.And why have the two of us come to Scotland?”
“Da tried to wed me to a withered old soldier, so I ran away.I won’t go back unless ’tis with a husband o’ my own choosin’.”
He nodded.“’Tis reasonable.”
It might be reasonable, but it was completely made up.She would be saying Hail Marys for weeks after this pack of lies.
