A few hundred yards down the path, she realized while her pattens gave her desirable stature, the wobbly things were slowing her.She stopped for a moment, crouching down to unbuckle them and shove them into her satchel.
Then she rose again and lunged forward, abruptly colliding with a thick wool gambeson.
Chapter 19
From the first moment the king mentioned a visit from Lady Carenza of Dunlop’s cousin, Adam’s suspicions were aroused.Why would the king hear about the marriage between Carenza and Hew from a mere cousin of the bride and not from the Laird of Rivenloch?It didn’t make sense.
Apparently, this cousin, a woman, had the marriage document in her possession.She even convinced the king to put his seal on it.
Just who was this mystery cousin?
Adam was fairly certain Carenza had no cousins.
But inventing a cousin sounded like the sort of audacious scheme someone like Adam—or Eve—might attempt.
Was it possible?Could Eve have contrived such a thing?For what purpose?
His suspicions were quickly confirmed.As soon as he exited the king’s pavilion, he spied a well-dressed noblewoman teetering out of the camp on ridiculously tall pattens.Shoes no sensible lady would wear.
And while he didn’t recognize the shoes or the limping gait, he’d know that luscious body anywhere.
He followed her.Once they reached the forest, catching up with her wasn’t difficult.She could hardly hobble at a decent pace, balancing on the infernal wooden blocks.
When she stopped to remove them, he slipped silently past her through the trees.Then all he had to do was wait for her to resume her flight.
Still, he was surprised when she literally crashed into his arms.
Even more surprised when she scrabbled at him in panic.
“’Tis me.Adam,” he told her, placing hands of reassurance on her shoulders.“What’s wrong?”
The fear in her eyes dimmed, but she flashed him a too bright smile.“Adam.”Her voice sounded shrill and strained.“What are ye doin’ here?”
“I could ask ye the same thing.”
She wasn’t fooling him.Guilt was written all over her face.
“I mean, ’tis a lovely surprise,” she gushed, avoiding the question.She pressed her cheek against his chest and gave him a squeeze, but it felt forced.“It seems ye were right.We do have a way o’ findin’ each other.”
He pulled her back to take a look at her painted face.“I don’t believe I’ve metthislady before.”
Faint alarm shot through her eyes like subtle lightning, so brief another man might not notice.But he could see it.
“Caterine,” she said with a French accent, clearly improvising on the spot.“I am Caterine of Paris.”
That wasn’t what she’d told the king.
“I see.”He lifted one of her coarse pale braids with a finger.“Horse hair?”
She nodded.
He brushed a finger across her cheek.“Chalk?And beeswax for your lips?”
“A lady likes to look her best.”Her tone was smug, but there was a tremor in her voice.
“The pattens are a nice touch.”
“They were…unwise,” she admitted.“But what about ye?”she said, going on the offensive.“Who is this man with the rusted mail and the patched gambeson?Is he part o’ your ‘somethin’ important to attend to’?”
