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Joining the ranks of Fergus’s men-at-arms at Kenmure was easy. His captain was eager to enlist the services of dark-bearded, short-haired Ness MacNeill, a man-at-arms who had all his own equipment, even if it was rusty and dented.

As for learning the laird’s ambitions, Adam didn’t need to bother becoming a trusted confidante. Fergus was open and boastful about his plans. He regularly visited the armory to discuss strategies with the captain. It was clear he meant to expand his already sizable holding.

Adam wondered if that was the real reason the king wanted to put a stop to Fergus. If the Laird of Galloway hoped to enrich himself with more and more property, he could eventually become a threat to the Crown.

A go-between could play a key role in alerting the king to Fergus’s plans. It would require stealth and deception. But those were two of Adam’s most valuable assets.

Eve sighed as she poked the final row of peas into the soil of the convent garden.

Ordinarily, she loved being outdoors in the warm spring sunlight. She liked tending to the crops while her sisters toiled nearby in the orchard. She enjoyed the sensation of damp earth crumbling between her fingers. Appreciated the small miracle of creating new food from a single seed.

But she hadn’t been happy for weeks.

The abbess had asked no questions upon Eve’s return. Eve considered this a mercy, for she was certain her sin was written across her forehead. A sin that seemed even more reprehensible in the peaceful, pious halls of the convent.

She’d wept and prayed.

She’d fasted and taken a vow of silence.

She’d isolated in her cell and foregone the pleasure of bathing.

But none of her acts of penance had brought her relief or forgiveness.

Was this how the rest of her life would be? Nothing but pain and guilt? Longing and shame?

Part of her felt she deserved it. At least she had a life, which was more than God had given poor, wee Nael. Perhaps she should accept a lifetime of sorrow with grace and dignity.

Worse, no matter how vehemently she prayed, how much she hungered, how many tears she shed, she couldn’t stop the dreams that plagued her in her sleeping hours.

She dreamed of him. Of the gallant, generous, exciting man who had swept her off her feet and fed her a sweet feast of forbidden delights from his loving hands. Again and again she dreamed of what they’d done.

Then she dreamed of what they might have done. The rapturous trysts ahead of them. Their wedding night. The children they’d have. The blissful life they’d lead. Going on adventures. Battling outlaws. Finding purpose. Doing good.

Every morn she awoke in grief over her loss. Wishing she could forget him. Wishing they had never met.

Every morn her gaze would catch at the satchel propped in the corner. And every morn she swore she would get rid of it. Banish Adam from her mind. From her heart. From her soul.

But she couldn’t. She told herself it was because taking the satchel would be stealing. His things had worth, after all. A coat of mail. Armor plate. A dagger. His medallion. They were too valuable to simply discard. Neither did she dare donate them, for fear his identity might be revealed.

In her heart, however, she knew the real reason she couldn’t part with them.

It was foolish hope.

Hope that somehow he might return for them.

Hope that when he did, God would decide she’d paid enough.

Hope that her dreams of a bright future might come true.

She straightened at the end of the row, pressing at the stiff small of her back. Shielding her eyes from the sunlight with her hand, she looked over the convent wall toward the far road.

A horse and rider were coming.

Was it…?

Her heart raced even as her brain told her she was wrong.

It wasn’t Adam. Adam she would have known anywhere.

Still, the rider looked familiar.

That was no common palfrey, but a fine warhorse.

And the person riding it was a woman. A noblewoman.

Eve straightened. She knew who it was.

“Lady Feiyan,” she murmured.

The sight of the lady, a Rivenloch, made her heart flip. Eve’s first thought was that her crime—stealing Gellir’s bride—had been discovered. Somehow Lady Feiyan had found out that Eve was the one responsible.

Then she realized Lady Feiyan had been at Perth. She’d seen Gellir happily married to the maidservant Merraid. Surely Feiyan and the rest of the Rivenlochs were no longer angry about the abduction of Carenza, his first betrothed. After all, things had ended well for Gellir.

Eve knew things had ended well for Carenza as well. She’d brought the bride to this very convent to unite her with her lover, Gellir’s cousin Hew. Could that be why Feiyan had come? To press Eve into revealing what had become of Carenza?

Eve wouldn’t tell her. She was a woman of honor. She’d sworn to keep Hew’s secret. No one but Eve knew the happy couple had been living in a wee remote byre in the woods.

But Lady Feiyan’s presence reminded Eve she needed to get word to Hew and Carenza. They were safe now, forgiven for their impulsive elopement. They could come out of hiding.

As she watched Feiyan enter through the cloister gate, she couldn’t help feel a thrill of excitement.

Eve was starved for the company of women from the outside.

Women who weren’t literally holier than her.

After Eve’s fall from grace, she felt as if everyone in the convent was her superior, that she could never make ample amends for her sin.

Completely forgetting her vow of silence, Eve rushed forward to greet her.

“M’lady Feiyan,” she said, holding her hand out. “Welcome.”

Feiyan took her hand.

Eve’s eyes lowered involuntarily to the lady’s swollen belly. She grinned and blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Och, ye’re takin’ your bairn for a ride, are ye?”

Fortunately it didn’t offend the lady. She lifted her leg over the saddle and said, “Might as well get the child accustomed to my horse.”

Eve helped the lady down. As she did, her gaze settled on the satchel hanging from Feiyan’s saddle. Settled on it and recognized it.

It was hers.

Her heart began to pound. Chaos stirred her thoughts as she tried not to stare at it.

Why did Lady Feiyan have Eve’s satchel?

Had Adam given it to her?

How had their paths crossed?

Was Feiyan the one from whom Adam had stolen that Rivenloch medallion?

Had Feiyan stolen Eve’s satchel in retribution?

“After all, I can’t afford to lose my skills,” Feiyan confided, “if I’m to participate in the summer tournament.”

Eve summoned up a shaky smile, trying to betray none of her panic. Only half listening, she mindlessly echoed, “Summer tournament?”

“Aye, at Darragh, after the bairn is delivered.”

When Feiyan’s words finally registered, Eve’s eyes lit up. Her worry vanished. A tournament. “At Darragh, ye say?”

“Aye.”

“Will your whole clan be there?”

“They had better. ’Twill be in celebration of the laird’s new grandchild.”

Irresistible visions of waving pennants and flashing swords, sparkling armor and clashing blades danced through Eve’s mind. What a spectacle it would be. A tournament to rival the king’s at Perth.

Eve had to find a way to compete against Jenefer of Rivenloch again.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the abbess, who waddled forward with breathless haste. “May we be of assistance, m’lady?” she sang out.

“Perhaps,” Feiyan replied. “You see, I have this satchel of clothing and other items. I thought you might be able to distribute them to those in need.”

Outrage sizzled up Eve’s spine. Charity? She was giving Eve’s goods to charity? And what about the silver? There had been a decent amount of silver in that satchel.

Unless Adam had pocketed it for himself.

Of course he had. He might have no use for Eve’s clothing and herbs. But everyone had use for silver.

“We’d be happy to, m’lady,” the abbess said, “but next time, prithee send a servant.” She clucked her tongue and added, “Ye shouldn’t be ridin’ about in your condition.”

Eve could see by the vexed ticking in Feiyan’s eye that she’d grown weary of such helpful warnings.

The abbess continued. “Give the satchel to me, m’lady, and I’ll—”

“I’ll take it,” Eve interjected. “I’ll get it into the right hands, m’lady. The abbess shouldn’t be travelin’ about. Not in her condition.” She gave Feiyan a clandestine wink.

Then, while the abbess was sputtering, she unhooked the satchel from the saddle and slung it over her shoulder.

It felt lighter. Of course it felt lighter. The knave had naturally taken all her coin and who knew what else. She only hoped he’d left her something of value.

“I’ll leave within the fortnight, m’lady,” Eve announced, glad of the excuse to quit the nunnery for a while. “I know a woman not far from here who’s in need. She’ll be so grateful for your gift.”

Indeed, Eve was grateful. With any luck, the satchel would contain a fitting disguise. One she could use for the mission she’d put off for too long now. Letting Hew and Carenza of Rivenloch know they were out of danger.