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Actually, that was true. She still had that mission to accomplish for Hew and Carenza. Getting the king’s seal on their marriage document. Traveling to Perth and back would take at least a fortnight, probably more.

“Indeed?” he said with a disbelieving snort. “And what would that be?”

She arched a brow. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

He smirked. “Fair enough.” But after a moment, he cocked a concerned eye at her. “I hope ’tisn’t too dangerous.”

“Oh, ’tis very dangerous,” she taunted.

“Now ye’re tryin’ to worry me.”

“Are ye worried?”

“O’ course I’m worried.”

She smiled in satisfaction.

Until he added, “Without Lady Aillenn on my arm, innkeepers won’t be givin’ me goose-down pallets anymore.”

She gave him a chiding cuff on the shoulder.

He laughed.

It was a beautiful sound. A sound she wanted to hear every day for the rest of her life. Every day, she supposed, after he returned…if he returned.

She sighed. “A fortnight or so? That seems an eternity. Where will we meet again?”

“We seem to have a way o’ findin’ each other.”

That was true. But she didn’t like leaving things to chance.

“What about Mauchline?” she suggested. Hew and Carenza had been wed in Mauchline. “’Tis a quiet village not far from here.”

He nodded. “Good. I know the place.”

His approval of Mauchline was a good sign. Perhaps he wasn’t leaving the area…or her.

Then he gave her a lusty look that erased all her doubt.

“ ’ Twill be an eternity, my love,” he said, cupping her chin and rubbing his thumb across her cheek. “I’ll be countin’ the hours.”

He leaned forward, giving her a kiss that was somehow both sweet and fiery. A long, lingering kiss of honey and flame.

She was still dizzy with desire when he reluctantly ended the kiss and pressed her away.

“I have to go,” he murmured.

She watched him go. As he walked across the shore, she admired his long stride and the way the wind tugged at his trews, displaying the flex of his muscles with every step.

She fought back the tempting tingle of arousal. The urge to follow him at a run. To collide with him, throw him down on the damp shore, tear off his clothes, and have her way with him again.

She bit her lip. It seemed being a respectable wife might require even more restraint than being a nun. She’d have to work on her impulsive nature. At least in public places.

Adam could feel her gaze all the way across the shore. He hoped the brisk climb up the slope to the castle would temper his lust. At the moment, his cock felt like a pavilion pole straining at his trews, and he couldn’t get the ridiculous grin off his face.

He had what he wanted now. His Rivenloch medallion. And an acceptable, if incomplete, explanation for Aillenn’s departure. Eve, he corrected. Eve to his Adam. The most magnificent Eve to grace an Adam’s arm.

Once he sorted out this royal matter with Fergus, he’d be free to tell Eve the truth. Who he was. What he was.

She’d no doubt be thrilled. She’d evidently heard of his clan. She’d called the Rivenlochs dangerous. What had she told him? Ye don’t want to tangle with that clan.

Certainly not as an enemy. But as a Rivenloch bride, she’d be welcomed with open arms.

Of course, he’d still secure permission from Laird Deirdre for the official match. But as far as a common lass like Eve knew, their agreement and consummation meant they were already wed. And that was fine with him.

Adam’s identity might change from day to day. His face and clothing and stature were as variable as the moon.

But she would learn his heart was steadfast. And now that he’d found a woman who saw him for who he truly was, he would be forever loyal.

As far as whatever mission she claimed to be on, he doubted it was dangerous at all, if indeed such a mission even existed. She’d probably invented it out of spite, to repay him for his callousness. The fact that she wished to meet at nearby Mauchline indicated she didn’t intend to stray far.

He was glad of that.

Though she was capable of defending herself, he feared for her safety.

Though she was quick and bright and clever, he worried about her impetuousness.

Though she was inventive and creative, he fretted over her vulnerability.

And though he was loath to admit it, no matter how capable, quick, or inventive she was, he knew he’d agonize over her every moment they were apart.

By the time he crested the cliff, Eve was but a wee blue and yellow speck walking beside the lapping firth.

But he dared not linger. There was much to do.

A laird’s rebellion to put down. A king to aid.

And the sooner Adam began his work, the sooner he could return to the woman he meant to make his bride.

No longer interested in the tournament, Eve decided to leave Darragh at once. The quicker she could secure the king’s seal and tie up the Rivenloch affair, the quicker she could resume more pleasant pastimes with Adam. So she packed up her bow and arrows and set out for the convent.

Most of the tournament participants had already arrived at Darrah and wouldn’t be leaving for another two days. So she had the path through the woods to herself.

She wasn’t sure if it was the favorable weather or the heavenly afterglow of lovemaking, but she felt curiously alive as she ambled along the road.

Bees hummed through the summer-heavy air. Butterflies sipped from nodding blossoms. The sun dribbled down through patches of new green leaves like butter melting onto the path.

Despite the distracting delights of the forest, she knew danger might lurk around every corner. A wee part of her was always wary. And that part of her started feeling…watched.

Watched and followed.

Whoever was trailing her was careful. They didn’t draw too near. They didn’t make much noise.

If she were asked how she knew someone was there, she wasn’t even sure she could say. She just felt them.

As long as they didn’t approach, there was no need for concern. She’d be back at the convent before long.

Still, it diminished a bit of her pleasure as she strode along the path.

She could no longer casually muse about her future with Adam.

She couldn’t enjoy the songs of birds calling through the branches.

Or the lazy afternoon treks of squirrels in the oak canopy.

And she was compelled to find a very thick stand of concealing brush when she could no longer go without relieving herself.

She was almost all the way to the convent when she stopped by a stream to take a drink. She used the opportunity to steal a surreptitious glance in their direction from beneath her feathered cap. The last thing she needed was to bring trouble home to her sisters.

She caught only a quick glimpse before they hastily retreated the way they had come. But it was enough.

There were two of them. And they wore the colors of the king.