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Aillenn had been taken. That was the only logical conclusion Adam could come to.

His heart clanged against his ribs like the harsh strike of a broken bell.

Someone had stolen his satchel. Perhaps Aillenn had awakened and caught the outlaw in the act. Perhaps he’d decided to steal the lady as well.

How could Adam have dozed through it all?

Riddled with guilt, he raced to the stable.

Both horses were there. If Aillenn had fled of her own accord, she would have taken one of them.

There was no other conclusion to be drawn. She’d been abducted.

Adam felt sick.

He saddled up his horse with trembling fingers and slung Aillenn’s satchel over the saddle, leaving the second animal as payment for the lodging.

Mounting up, he headed for the road, uncertain which direction to go.

Adam had one purpose. He was a protector. He protected those he loved and those who were too weak to protect themselves.

But this time he’d failed.

Worse, he’d failed the person he was beginning to think might be, as his romantic cousin Isabel liked to say, The One.

The idea had begun whispering in his ear long before they consummated their affection. Even before that first kiss, he’d had the sense that Aillenn was special. Unique. Exceptional.

He was fascinated by her quicksilver wit and her undaunted spirit.

By the way she danced through life, skipping from identity to identity with the ease and grace of an elusive butterfly.

He admired her generous soul and her fierce determination.

Her easy laughter and her sensitive heart.

He even relished her complexity, knowing with Lady Aillenn he would never be bored.

How then could he have let The One be taken from him?

Clenching his jaw and steeling his gaze, he reined the horse onto the main road.

Which direction?

They’d been headed south toward Glasgow. If someone had marked them for theft, it would have been from the north as they passed by. It made sense that the fox would return to his den.

Making up his mind, Adam turned the horse northward and urged it to a clip.

Hours later, he’d found no sign of her. The travelers he questioned along the way had glimpsed no beautiful noblewoman. Nor had anyone at the alehouse where he stopped midday to rest the horse and fill his belly.

Halfway through devouring mutton pottage by the fire, he suddenly remembered he might not have the wherewithal to pay the alewife. His possessions were gone.

Shite.

He carried his entire life in his satchel.

His costumes, his tools, his coin. How would he manage without them?

He hadn’t yet sifted through what was in Aillenn’s satchel, but he imagined the contents would be fairly useless.

Which meant he’d need to waste more time, paying for his supper with his labor.

With a sigh, he retrieved the satchel slouching beside the hearth and opened the top.

There was a missive scribbled with char on a piece of torn parchment.

Prithee do not follow me ~ Lady Aillenn

His mind reeled as he studied the words. What did they mean?

They meant she hadn’t been abducted at all.

She’d left of her own accord.

The pottage sank to the pit of his stomach like an anvil in mud.

So “Lady Aillenn” was a common outlaw, after all. She must have played a long game—tempting him, luring him in, getting him to trust her, to care for her. In the end, like a Judas in a paramour’s clothing, she’d betrayed him, stolen his satchel and his coin and left him.

How could she do such a thing?

How could he have been such a gullible fool?

His emotions quickly curdled, from worry to hurt to bitterness. He crumpled the missive in his fist.

Then he wrenched open the satchel.

Had she left him anything? A penny? A weapon? Balm for his broken heart?

She had left him something.

Everything.

On top was her scarlet velvet gown. Beneath that were other robes and cloaks, hose and slippers, wigs and caps, a sheathed dagger, a comb and mirror and jewels in a velvet bag, packets and crocks of medicine, her sewing tools, hard cheese, dried herring, oatcakes, and at the very bottom, a purse heavy with coins.

A few were lead, but most of them were silver.

He scowled. What did that mean?

He considered these new circumstances as he counted out payment for his pottage and ale.

She’d obviously left of her own free will. So perhaps the guilt-riddled lass had left him the coin as payment for her betrayal. He hadn’t counted it, but he had to wonder if there were thirty pieces of silver in the purse.

Then she’d written Do not follow me ?

He’d be damned if he’d heed that advice.

He’d absolutely pursue her. There were irreplaceable things in his satchel.

The costume he’d used for King Malcolm. Holy vestments.

Hairpieces. Weapons. A notebook of cures.

Keys to manors all across Scotland. A pick for those places for which he didn’t have keys.

His spare braies. Most importantly, it held his Rivenloch medallion.

He dared not lose that. It was his identity. If it fell into the wrong hands…

She probably wouldn’t believe it was real. At least that was his hope. Indeed, he hoped she’d be disappointed with the cache she’d stolen. It contained little of worth to the average person.

But it was of immense value to him.

Oh aye, he’d follow her.

He wouldn’t let her get away with this crime.

He’d insist on justice. Demand the return of his satchel.

And he’d hope, where his chest felt empty and silent, for the return of his heart.

Fueled by pottage and the thirst for retribution, he set out with renewed determination. This time he’d ride south as had been their original plan.

She’d gone on foot. She couldn’t get far.

By nightfall, he arrived at the village of Cumbernauld.

Adam had no way of knowing how Aillenn was dressed or what identity she’d taken. She might be visiting a castle as an Empress from the East or sleeping in a stable as Joan the milkmaid.

He found lodging at the local inn as Sir Robert, a nobleman who’d fallen on hard times. He softened the wealth of his lordly garb by covering himself with a ragged cloak from her satchel.

As he sipped ale by the door of the common room, he peered closely at its inhabitants. A beggar hunkered by the fire. An aged crone slurped at her pottage. A mercenary all in black stared at the floor. None of them were Aillenn.

Where could the deceitful wench have gone?

Eve had a rule when she traveled. She rarely wore the same guise two days in a row. That way, anyone following her wouldn’t be able to accurately describe her.

The strategy hadn’t worked with Adam. He seemed to be able to see through every disguise. But it worked with everyone else.

So when she departed the convent, she made a small detour into the thick of the woods to change her clothing.

Adam’s garments were naturally too large for her.

She had to be creative. Since there were a number of monasteries where she was headed, she opted for the identity of a monk, Brother Matthew.

She wore a loose-fitting cassock bloused over the cord that secured it and an oversized hood that covered her hair and hid her face.

While she searched for the wooden cross she knew he carried, she found another piece. A small silver medallion. It looked very old. She squinted at the engraving.

Amor vincit omnia. Love conquers all.

Then she inhaled sharply.

She recognized the words. It was the motto of the Rivenloch clan.

She was still on a mission for the Rivenlochs. After she returned to the convent, she intended to pay a visit to Hew and Carenza, the couple she’d united, to let them know they were safe from Gellir’s wrath, that he’d been wed to another.

But if Adam had engaged recently with the Rivenlochs…

Lucifer’s ballocks! Had he stolen the medallion from them?

The idea filled her with a mixture of horror and admiration. She too had tangled with the clan, and it was perilous work. The Rivenlochs were a discerning lot. Not much got past their notice.

Still, to steal from one of them? Adam must have a target on his back now. Perhaps she should count her blessings that they were no longer traveling together.

Still, his absence didn’t feel like a blessing.

It felt like a curse.

She didn’t realize how lonely the road would feel after enjoying his delightful company.

Her journey toward Glasgow was bursting with the signs of spring. Red squirrels spiraled up trees. Sparrows sang from the branches. Meadowsweet blanketed the sunlit glens, their scent blown on gentle winds. And yet, with no one to share such things, they were only a sad reminder of her solitude.

Had her namesake felt such sorrow after indulging in the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge? In the Bible, Eve’s punishment—to be banished from the Garden of Eden—had been severe.

But had she regretted what she’d done?

Or, given a second chance, would she have done it all again?

It was a difficult question.

A question that tormented Eve on the plodding journey to Glasgow.

A question she couldn’t answer, even when the monks welcomed her into the monastery as one of their own and she prayed on it all night long.

If he got away with this, Adam thought, it would indeed be a miracle.

He’d discovered, after taking inventory of her things, that Aillenn had taken her nun’s habit with her. That was likely what she was wearing. Which meant she must be staying at convents.

If Adam wished to shadow her, he’d need to have access to those convents.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t look less like a nun.

He had to make do with what he found in Aillenn’s satchel.