Then, quickly replaying her question in his mind, he replied, “Aye, supplies, though we should get enough off o’ Pitcairn tonight to last a day or two.”
“Pitcairn?”
He instantly realized his blunder.He should never have named the clan at whose keep he planned to seek lodging.The less she knew about his acquaintances, the better.So he feigned uncertainty.
“Is that his name?Pitcairn?Pitfield?Somethin’ like that.I o’erheard a traveler speakin’ of a noble o’ that name with a place south o’ Dunnin’.Do ye know him?”
She shook her head.
That was fortunate.It would be challenging enough for a Rivenloch to sneak in under Pitcairn’s nose, disguised as an Irish noble.If she didn’t know the man, Adam could count on his beautiful Irish “sister” as a distraction.
Shewasdistracting.As she packed up what little food remained, he couldn’t help but steal glances at her vibrant skin, her lightly freckled face, her finely arched brows, her sweet bow of a mouth.He wondered if all Irish noblewomen were so lovely.Then he lowered his gaze, and his brow creased as he glimpsed her worn nails.
Curious, he reached out for her wrist.
Startled, she gasped.
Turning her hand palm up, he frowned.“These aren’t the hands of a noblewoman.”
Eve had to think fast.No one had ever studied her closely enough to discern that fact.They were usually too distracted by her coy looks and honeyed words to pay any heed to her calluses.
She grew instantly indignant, snatching her hand back.
“I’ve had to make my way as best I can on my own,” she said defensively, adding a note of hurt to her voice.“If my beauty has been dimmed by my efforts to survive, it cannot be helped.’Tis a price worth payin’ for my freedom.”
Her ploy seemed to work.
“I apologize,” he said, looking sincerely contrite.“I’m a fool.And ye… Nothin’ could dim your beauty, m’lady.”
His words took her breath away.Flustered and blushing, she stood and busied herself with the satchel, rearranging things that didn’t need to be rearranged, while she tried to regain her composure.
“I should have realized ye were a true noblewoman,” he said, coming to his feet.He shook the stray leaves from the linen square and tucked it back into his satchel.“How else would ye know the Rivenlochs?”
Another bolt of alarm shot through her.She didn’t dare meet his eyes.“Aye.Right.”
“So yedoknow the Rivenlochs?”
“Me?”she squeaked.“Nay, not personally.”She licked her lips and hefted up the satchel, staggering back a step under its weight.
He reached out to steady her.
She danced back out of his reach, trying desperately to recall what she’d said before about the Rivenlochs.“I’ve only heard tell o’ the clan.”
“All the way in Ireland?”
“Aye?”she said, wondering if that could even be true.After all, no one in Scotland seemed to know any of the Irish nobles.If they had, they certainly wouldn’t recall the Bhallach clan, which was a creation of her own.“They’ve got quite a reputation.”
“Is that so?”
His eyes twinkled then with a curious sort of triumph.He knew something.Or he’d tripped her up.But how?
Suddenly she remembered.Shite.She’d told him she’d heard about the Rivenlochs at Perth.Not in Ireland.She took another evasive step backward.
“Careful,” he said with a chiding smile, curving one arm around her waist.
Eve bristled.She hated to be outwitted, especially by a man who found amusement at her expense.And she’d always had a problem with authority.Careful, indeed.She backed out of his embrace.“Don’t tell me what to—”
“M’lady!”he shouted, reaching for her again.
