Gathering what dignity she could, she tore her gaze away from the mortifying spectacle, spun with a disgusted swish of her skirts, and paced down the path.
His repressed laughter followed her, but he thankfully spoke no more of it.
Chapter 7
Adam wasn’t about to break the silence.
Not only because it was clear she didn’t want to discuss the incident with the hares.But also because her mention of Rivenloch had chilled him to the bone.
No one had ever uncovered his identity.No one.He couldn’t afford to be revealed now.
Later, when he was old and feeble, perhaps he’d retire from his life of disguise.But for now, he had too many services to perform, too much protection to render, too many cousins to look after to give up his gift of invisibility and his useful occupation.
He’d already made the mistake of giving her his real first name.The fact she’d mentioned his clan meant she was growing too close for comfort.
She’d been at the Perth tournament, of course.But it had never occurred to him she might be acquainted with his family.He’d certainly never heard ofher.
Was it true she’d only overheard the gossip of others?Or did she have some personal connection to his clan?He needed to find out.Somehow he needed to pry into her past without sharing his own.
The morn was more than half gone when Adam heard the burbling rush of water, indicating a burn close to the road.
“Shall we stop for a bit?”he said, breaking the silence.
She nodded.
They descended the bank to a place where the stream hurried over rocks and then slowed and narrowed and deepened.He wasted no time, crouching streamside and scooping up handfuls of refreshing, cold water to wash the dust from his face.
Aillenn cautiously washed her hands.Then she dipped a small scrap of linen from her satchel into the water and wrung it out.She patted her neck and face with exaggerated care, as if she feared she might dislodge a freckle.
Meanwhile, Adam spread a linen cloth on the ground and began pulling out the provender he always carried.A chunk of hard cheese.A sack of oats.Strips of salted beef.Dried apples.
She too dug in her satchel for foodstuffs to add to the offering.She had hard cheese and a sack of oats as well.A crock of butter.A neep.An onion.And a loaf of bread she must have procured this morn.
“Well, at least we won’t starve,” she said.“Too bad we don’t have a cauldron.We might make a decent pottage.”
“If ye wanted pottage, ye should have told me,” he said, stifling a grin.“I could have butchered the pair o’ hares we saw back—”
He hadn’t even finished the sentence when she gave his arm a chiding punch.
He cried out, gripping the injured limb with feigned pain.
“A gentleman,” she muttered, “wouldn’t have brought that up.”
“I ne’er said I was a gentleman.”
“Ye’re wearin’ the garb of a gentleman.”
“Guilty,” he said, clapping his hand to his chest.“In future, m’lady, I shall try to remain true to my disguise.”
She knelt gracefully on the linen and tore off a chunk of bread, slathering it with butter and offering it to him.
He sat cross-legged, unwrapped the cheese, and used his dagger to slice two thick slabs.He gave her one of them and added a dried apple.
No one spoke.They were too busy feasting.He was hungrier than he thought.He ate half of the salted beef and the last hunk of bread.
“We’ll have to replenish our supplies soon, aye?”she said after they were finished, licking a crumb off her thumb.
That innocent gesture—the coy lowering of her lashes, the parting of her lips, the glimpse of her tongue—sent a bolt of desire through him.For an instant, he couldn’t think.
