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He couldn’t maintain his expression of outrage for long. Soon he was shaking his head and chuckling right along with her.

When decorum was restored, she asked him, “Why do ye do it?”

“Do what?”

“The subterfuge. The costumes. The deception.” She wasn’t sure she wasn’t asking herself that question. “If ye’re not hidin’ from the law, why wear a disguise?”

He shrugged. “’Tis…amusin’.”

Eve didn’t believe him. “’Tis more than that. No one risks the wrath o’ the king for his own amusement.”

The lass was right. And though Adam knew it was folly to confide in a woman he barely knew—a woman who had too many secrets of her own—he didn’t really want her to believe his disguises were all just an amusing entertainment to him. Because they weren’t.

“The truth?” he said with a sigh.

“Aye.”

“I do it to protect the ones I care about.”

Her eyes were full of doubt. “Is that so?”

“Aye. I do what I can to keep them safe.”

“So when ye said ye followed me for my safety…” She looked into his eyes, as if seeking the truth.

Her dark honey gaze melted his resolve. “’Twas true.”

“And when ye came to the priory…”

“I wanted to be sure ye were unharmed.”

Her voice was little more than a whisper. “But ye said ye protected those ye care about.”

“Aye.”

“So ye care…about me?”

He swallowed. In another moment, if she kept gazing at him like that, with her eyes all dewy and her face all hopeful, he’d close the space between them and show her just how much he cared about her.

But that would be a mistake. She’d already confessed to being untried in the ways of love. And sitting here in his damp leine, he might as well be naked. The last thing an innocent lass needed to witness was the rousing effect she was having on the beast in his braies.

Instead, he acted in her interests once more, protecting her. From himself. With a one-sided smile and a great deal of regret, he said, “O’ course I care about ye. Ye’re my sister, aye?”

Her brow creased.

Before she could shove him off the log again, he stood up and carefully turned away. “We should be movin’ on, m’lady. We’ve a ways to go.”

He donned his clothes, which were still uncomfortably damp, and tried to hide his disappointment as they returned to the road.

She was disappointed as well. He could see that.

They’d spent the day in a beautiful spring glade, whiling away the time in pleasant conversation, like two old warriors swapping battle stories.

And now he’d put a cork in the bottle of their discussion.

He felt bad about it. But if they were to carry on this fiction of being brother and sister, they couldn’t afford to ruin the deception with any show of romantic affection. Even now, with his unruly cock stuffed into damp wool, his show of romantic affection was undeterred.

After about a hundred yards, she spoke.

“So if ye disguise yourself to keep others safe,” she asked, “who was the emissary o’ the Pope keepin’ safe?”

Adam hadn’t been prepared for such a pointed question.

He should have been. The woman had a way of burrowing into him like a tick and sucking out the truth.

She already knew his real first name. She knew of the Rivenlochs.

He’d been a whisper away from telling her about his real brothers and sisters.

He’d shared some of his real exploits, divulging some of the characters he’d played.

He didn’t dare expose any more of his secrets.

Some of his work was on behalf of some very important people.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” he told her.

She emitted a frustrated sigh.

“What about ye?” he asked. “What were ye doin’ at Perth that day?”

She was saved from having to answer him when they spotted two travelers approaching on horseback.

He fell silent as well.

In their profession, minimizing interactions was always best. The less memorable they could be, the better.

But as the horsemen neared, he studied their appearance with a critical eye.

The men were well-dressed. Their clothing was made of high-quality wool, beautifully dyed and trimmed. But it was stained and ill-fitting.

The horses too were decent rounceys. But they looked as if they hadn’t been groomed in weeks.

“Outlaws,” Aillenn whispered.

Exactly what he’d thought. He was impressed she’d figured that out as well.

“Or scouts,” he whispered back. “Stay close.”

If they rode past, they might be spotters who ranged the woods, eyeing prospects for robbery. In that case, their cohorts were likely hiding in the trees, waiting for a signal.

He guided Aillenn to the side of the path to let them pass, giving them a nod.

“Mornin’,” the one in front said.

After they rode past, she held out her hand and murmured to him, “Give me my satchel.”

Adam knew better than to argue with her. She was savvy enough to recognize them as outlaws. Perhaps she was savvy enough to carry a weapon among her things.

The riders were twenty yards past when one of them let out a high whistle.

“’Tis a signal,” she whispered. “There are more o’ them.”

“Aye.”

They were likely up ahead in the densest part of the woods. He slipped his hand into his satchel and stealthily pulled out his dagger. They might be outnumbered. But he had surprise on his side.

“And so I said to him,” Aillenn said loudly, “I said, ‘What do ye mean, ye don’t have the rose silk? I was told ’twould be in by spring’.”

His eyes widened in horror. What was she doing? He’d planned to steal up on the outlaws. She might as well be blowing a buisine to herald their arrival.

She glanced at him, taking no notice of his furrowed brows and glare of disapproval, and continued to blather on.

“What was I to do?” she continued. “I couldn’t very well wear the same blue velvet I wore at Yuletide. And I told the merchant so. He insisted ’twas the fault o’ the supplier in Byzantium. ‘Byzantium?’ I said. ‘I asked for silk from Lucca!’”

He glared even harder, biting out between his teeth, “What are ye doin’?”

Her gaze slipped aside just for an instant, but he began to understand. She’d spotted the outlaws, and she was carrying on as if she had not. It was a clever ruse. And it would take the thieves completely by surprise.

“Everyone knows Lucca silk is far superior,” she continued. “And the colors…” She paused for a dramatic gasp. “The yellow is as bright as the sun. The red as rich as strawberries. But the rose, I had my heart set on the rose. Ye know how much I love rose.”

“I do.”

He saw them now. On both sides. Hiding in the shadows of the trees.

“I asked for three ells o’ the rose,” she said, waving an arm to the left. “And three ells o’ the blue.” She gestured to the right.

The clever lass was using code to tell him how many outlaws she’d seen. He prayed she didn’t mean to try to save their souls again.

“So six ells in all?” he replied. He could fight six men. “That doesn’t seem unreasonable.”

“Indeed,” she said, glancing at his dagger. “If one has a sharp pair of scissors, I should think—”

The outlaws emerged with a cry that was likely supposed to startle their victims.

But Adam was prepared. So was Aillenn.

She swung her satchel about, knocking the first outlaw off his feet.

Adam dropped his satchel and thrust his dagger forward at a man wielding a cudgel, wounding him just inside his shoulder, which forced him to release his weapon and stagger off.

The next outlaw swung out with a knife blade, leaving a shallow slice in Adam’s arm where he couldn’t dodge fast enough.

He sucked a quick breath of pain between his teeth and returned with his dagger, slashing across the man’s wrist. The man screamed, and his knife clattered to the forest floor. He clenched his wrist to stop the bleeding as he sought the haven of the trees.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aillenn swinging her satchel forward again. This time, the outlaw leaped out of the way. And already the first man she’d knocked down was getting back up. He’d have to finish off the third outlaw on his side and come to her assistance.

The third man gave Adam a black-toothed, menacing grin as he advanced, twirling a staff before him.

Adam caught the staff mid-twirl and violently shook off the man’s grip. Commandeering the staff, he shoved the man backwards with the butt of it, hard enough to make his head collide with a pine. He slithered unconscious to the ground.

When Adam turned back to Aillenn, she had somehow managed to knock one of the outlaws senseless. But the other two were on the attack. One of them had a makeshift club. One of them had a dagger.

Before he could reach her, she dropped her satchel, hiked up her skirts, and dove in front of the man with the club, bowling him off his feet. Then she hopped back up as if she did such acrobatics every day.

Who was this lass?

There was no time to wonder. While the man on the ground scrambled to right himself, the outlaw with the dagger charged at her with bloodlust in his eyes.

Adam only killed when it was necessary. And he hated to surrender a weapon. But he had no choice. The outlaw was too close to Aillenn.

Flipping his dagger around to pinch the blade between his thumb and fingers, he hurled it forward. It lodged in the man’s throat. The outlaw dropped his weapon and clutched at the wound, gurgling as he dropped to the ground.

Now Adam was defenseless. And the second man had the same thought as the two of them raced to claim the dropped dagger.

But the outlaw was closer. He dove for the weapon, wrapping his fingers around the haft just as Adam skidded toward him.