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“Ye’re in luck, m’lady,” Anne confided to Aillenn. “I have one room left, and ’tis my finest.”

For a moment, Adam thought luck was on his side. They’d have to share a chamber after all.

His devious heart gave a silent cheer. After all, many a happy marriage had been made of such inconveniences.

But his hopes were dashed when Anne went on to assure her, “O’ course your servant can have a place by the hearth with the others.”

Was that a flash of disappointment he detected in Lady Aillenn’s eyes? Or just his wishful imagination?

Of course the proprietor would assume he was the lady’s servant. She was so blinded by Aillenn’s brilliance, she hadn’t given Adam a second glance.

But even when she did meet his gaze, she didn’t recognize him.

It wasn’t surprising. It was typical.

Still, he’d stayed at Anne Campbell’s inn before. Twice. Once as Lugo the spice merchant from Castile and once as himself, Adam la Nuit. But as he’d explained to Aillenn, his face was forgettable.

“Adam,” Lady Aillenn said, jarring him from his thoughts, “will ye bring my things upstairs?”

It was foolish to hope that was a conspiratorial glimmer in her gaze.

“Aye, m’lady.”

Anne showed them to a chamber even more splendid than the one she’d given to Adam la Nuit of Rivenloch on his last visit. He frowned as he followed Aillenn into the room and dropped the satchels beside the curtained bed.

“I hope ’twill do, m’lady,” Anne said.

“’Tis lovely.” Aillenn’s voice was considerate. But he had the sense she was not overly impressed. She must be accustomed to such opulence.

“I’ll move a pallet near the hearth downstairs for your man,” Anne said, then took her leave.

For an instant, Adam wished he’d donned a different disguise. Perhaps Margaret the maidservant. Margaret would have been expected to sleep here with the lady.

With a sigh, he went to the hearth to poke the coals of the banked fire to life.

“Ye don’t have to do that,” Aillenn said.

“If I’m to be your man,” he told her, winking as he said the words, “’tis what’s expected.”

She blushed and moved toward the bed. Pushing the curtains aside, she peeked under the coverlet, looking for fleas. Apparently satisfied, she turned, plopping down to sit on the mattress and immediately emitting an indelicate gasp.

“’Tis goose-down!” she cried out in pleasure.

At her words, a wave of heat hit Adam full in the face. A wave that had nothing to do with the blossoming fire.

“Is it?” he managed to squeak out.

It took all his strength of will to keep his eyes trained on the fire as he added more peat.

Goose-down. There was nothing better than a goose-down pallet when it came to swiving.

Sinking into a woman while she sank into the mattress.

Feeling the embrace of feathery softness as they climbed together to a blissful ecstasy.

And afterward, floating in each other’s arms on a downy cushion like a heavenly cloud.

“Aye,” she replied. “I mean… ’Tis what we have back at the castle, o’ course.”

“O’ course.”

It was then he began to suspect she might not be Lady Aillenn after all.

Had she slipped up, exclaiming over the goose-down with such naive enthusiasm?

Was she unaccustomed to such extravagance?

Was she not the noble she claimed to be?

How curious that would be.

And how astonished she’d be if she knew that while she luxuriated tonight in her own chamber, in her own goose-down bed, the man waiting on her and bedding down by the communal hearth was a noble warrior of the Rivenloch clan.

Eve had made a grave error. Almost revealed her humble roots.

He didn’t seem to notice her slip. But he could have. And she couldn’t afford that kind of sloppiness. Not when her life depended upon it.

She dared not let down her guard again. Not for an instant. If anyone knew who she truly was—a runaway nun—they’d oust her from this royal chamber in a heartbeat.

She’d let childish delight, unbridled desire, and misplaced trust in a stranger interfere with her common sense.

When Adam finished with the fire, she’d thank him politely and say farewell.

And she would absolutely not look him in the eye. That would only cause trouble.

It seemed an eternity before he was at last satisfied with his fire-building efforts. Meanwhile, she pretended to sort through the things in her satchel.

Finally he replaced the poker and dusted the ash from his hands.

“I’ll be but a shout away,” he said, “if ye need anythin’ in the night.”

Staring into her satchel without seeing, she immediately thought about a dozen things she might need in the night. A hug. A kiss. A cuddle.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, stuffing the green hood farther into the bag.

“I’ll be sleepin’ with one eye open anyway,” he said with a touch of sarcasm, “huddlin’ by the fire with my other bedmates.”

Guilt washed over her. It seemed silly for her to commandeer an entire bedchamber while men slept shoulder to shoulder in the main room below.

She had never liked the idea of class distinction and social ostracism.

One of the comforts of a convent were that the nuns might be daughters of nobles or orphans of harlots.

But all were equal in the eyes of the Lord.

So believed Sister Eve.

To Lady Aillenn, however, such a thing would never occur. She’d been raised to believe she deserved preferential treatment. And at the moment, to behave otherwise would reveal Eve’s secret.

Still, she couldn’t let Adam leave without expressing her gratitude.

Keeping her gaze fixed on the floor, she said, “Ye’ve been a kind and chivalrous companion, sir, and I cannot thank ye enough.”

She was holding her breath when he abruptly reached for her hand.

It was a simple reflex for her gaze to flit to his face. And once she fell into the deep, dark pools of his eyes, she was helpless to look away.