Never before had Adam longed for that sort of existence.He’d always assumed it wasn’t meant to be.
His was no kind of life for a wife, much less a child.He knew that.
Adam was too reckless.Too restless.Too invisible.An unpredictable shape-shifter like him could hardly expect to be known, much less loved, by anyone.
And yet Lady Aillenn had made him feel loved.
She’d appreciated his spontaneity.She’d admired his disguises.
With her, he’d almost been able to envision a blissful future.
“John Schott!”came a call in the distance from the archery field.
With her, he could imagine lazy morns… adventurous afternoons…
“John Schott!”
Passionate nights…
“John Schott!”
Adam started.
Shite.That was him.
“Aye!”he confirmed, “Here!”
He began to trot up through the line of archers.But so rattled was he at his wandering mind and his lapse in character, he tripped over his own feet and fell to one knee.
The archers around him snickered as his quiver slipped off his shoulder and the arrows slid out, scattering on the ground.
Bloody hell.The last thing Adam wanted to do was draw attention to himself.
He scooped up the arrows as quickly as he could.
One of the archers took pity on him, dropping down beside him to help.
“My thanks,” he mumbled.
“Of course,” was the reply.
He inhaled sharply.That voice.
He whipped his head around.
It was her.
Aillenn.
To anyone else, she appeared to be an olive-skinned Italian youth in a jaunty feathered cap and parti-colored tunic and trews.She even had a slight foreign accent to her husky voice.
But Adam wasn’t fooled.Not for an instant.
She looked as shocked as he felt.Her eyes widened.Her mouth parted.She froze.
He held his breath, ignoring the rush of joy that filled his veins.He knew one careless glance or word could mean discovery for both of them.
She seemed to understand as well.She gave him the last arrow and looked immediately away, leaving without another word.
