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“Thank you,” Adam said.

The physician caught his arm. “Ye’ll keep her safe, aye?”

“On my honor as a Rivenloch.”

He’d keep her safe. If she was willing to allow it. At the moment, his was probably the last face she wanted to see.

The best way to infiltrate a nunnery was as a visiting monk. Convent sisters always showed deference to their holy brothers. And it didn’t hurt that, disguising himself as a man of God, it would be harder for Eve to publicly vent her rage upon him.

As he trudged through the forest toward Mauchline, he practiced his explanation in a contrite murmur.

“I apologize, Eve. But ’twas a necessary deception I had to employ in the course of avoiding a war.”

That sounded good. It would impress her.

“You should be proud, Eve. You played an instrumental part in resolving the conflict between Laird Fergus and the king.”

That was good as well. Eve would have a story to tell for generations to come.

“I asked the king to keep you hostage, Eve, because I care for you, and I knew it was the place you would be the most safe.”

Aye, that was the one. That would soften her heart.

“It may make you glad to hear the king rewarded me with silver for my negotiations, Eve, and I delivered the coin as restitution to the alewife.”

Even better. Eve would be relieved to know he’d sought justice so selflessly.

Then he sighed.

All of them were true. Yet the words sounded like feeble excuses for his wretched behavior, even to his own ears.

He feared her heart would never heal from the damage he’d done to it. And if that happened, he didn’t think he’d find happiness again.

He was still brooding over what he would say when he arrived at the convent. It looked old, but well-kept, standing in a broad clearing of the wood. A stone wall surrounded the close, with bare-limbed fruit trees peering over the top.

When he passed through the gates, he saw several nuns toiling in the yard. Some were pruning the trees. Others tilled small patches of soil by hand. He perused their faces. None of them were Eve.

A pair of novices pulling neeps from the garden spotted him first, whispered together, and then ran off, probably to fetch the abbess.

A moment later, a rosy-cheeked, matronly nun greeted him from across the close.

“Brother, welcome!”

Behind her scurried the two novices, and the laborers stopped their work to watch. Life in a nunnery was dull. A stranger was cause for excitement.

The abbess clasped her hands before her. “What brings ye to our fair convent, Brother…”

“Adam, Reverend Mother.”

“Adam,” she repeated.

Behind her, the novices giggled into their hands.

“Sisters!” the abbess hissed. Then she addressed him. “Forgive their rudeness, Brother. We get few visitors.”

The abbess shooed the novices along and ushered him into the refectory. There, two more nuns brought him oatcakes and ale.

Neither of them were Eve.

“What brings ye to our fair convent?” the abbess asked.

“I’m searchin’ for an acquaintance o’ mine.”

“An acquaintance?”

“A nun.”

“Ah. And her name?”

He wished the abbess could simply line up all the nuns in the convent and let him take a good look at them. He had no idea what name Eve was using now.

“I’m not certain,” he admitted. “She may have changed her name.”

More nuns entered the refectory. Giving him sidelong glances, they busied themselves in close proximity, as interested in them as they were in him.

They carried empty trays back and forth.

Wiped imaginary dirt from the tops of the tables.

Rearranged the rushes on the floor. Some brushed so close behind him, he could feel the breeze of their passing.

He studied them carefully. None of them were Eve.

“Oh aye,” the abbess said. “Oftentimes a lass will change her name when she enters a holy order. What was her name before?”

“Eve,” he said. “Sister Eve.”

He might as well have uttered a foul oath.

All the nuns in the refectory gasped and began whispering furiously among themselves.

He frowned.

The abbess’s eyes went wide. “Sister Eve?” Then she scowled at the melee around them. “Sisters! Silence!”

They knew something about Eve. What it was, he wasn’t sure.

When it quieted, he asked, “Is she here?”

“We did have a Sister Eve here,” the abbess said carefully.

He supposed there could be more than one Sister Eve. “What did she look like?”

She shrugged. “Ordinary. Brown-haired. Brown-eyed.”

He furrowed his brows. Eve was far from ordinary.

She continued, “A bit…undisciplined.”

His breath caught. That had to be Eve.

“Ye said ye did have a Sister Eve,” he said. “What happened to her?”

Before the abbess could answer, the nuns began chiming in with excitement.

“She’s gone on an adventure,” one of them said.

“All the way to Rivenloch,” added another.

“Carryin’ a mysterious scroll.”

“A special missive.”

“I heard ’twas on the king’s business.”

The abbess’s face purpled. “Sisters!”

They silenced.

“Out!” the abbess shouted.

They filed out, shamefaced.

But he’d heard enough to know it was his Eve. The wily lass had managed to give him the slip. She was finishing her clandestine task with that marriage document.

To be fair, he wasn’t opposed to her undertaking.

He’d made sure the document got into her satchel.

Considering the trouble they’d gone to, Hew and Carenza must be truly in love and deserved to be married.

He only hoped Eve could convince his clever aunt, the Laird of Rivenloch, that the king’s signature had been lawfully obtained.

“When did Sister Eve leave?” he asked.

“More than a sennight ago,” the abbess said.

“On foot?”

“By mule.”

He sighed. He was too late. She must have already delivered the document to Laird Deirdre.

He hoped things turned out well for Hew.

As for Adam, he feared it was too much to hope for. In Eve’s eyes, he’d betrayed and abandoned her. Failed at protecting her. And turned his back on justice for the alewife. As far as she knew, he was a liar. A thief. A Judas. A serpent. The lowest, most despicable sort of outlaw.

Even if he were given the chance to explain himself, it would be nigh impossible to find her now. From Rivenloch, she could have gone anywhere.

“She should return anon,” the abbess said.

His heart skipped a beat. “Return?”

“Aye. She said she’d be back in time for Martinmas.”

“She’s returnin’?”

“Aye. So if ye’d like to stay, we have a cell for guests. To be honest, we could use a braw man to do a few tasks around the convent.”

“O’ course.”

“We break our fast at dawn,” she said, “then have Prime, followed by readin’s in the chapter house…”

She continued blathering on with the convent schedule. But Adam heard none of it. His mind was spinning.

Why would Eve go all the way to Rivenloch and all the way back again to this particular convent? Why wouldn’t she continue her carefree life of roaming the countryside as he did? Take opportunities as they came? Let Fate steer the course?

A chilling possibility entered his mind.

“…and after Compline, we make an early night of it. When the sun retires, so do we,” the abbess finished.

“’Tis a wise practice,” he said with a smile of approval. “Tell me, Reverend Mother, how often is Sister Eve here?”

The abbess arched a judgmental brow. “Not as often as she should be.”

“When did she first start comin’ to the convent?”

“Sister Eve? She’s been here since she was ten years of age, so…” the abbess did the sum in her head. “Ten years?”

Ten? His chest sank. He thought she only visited the convent. But now he realized this was her home. She was a nun.

God help him. He’d swived a nun.

His voice came out on a sickly groan. “Someone left her here when she was ten years old?”

The abbess looked puzzled. “I suppose ye could say that.”

“She was a foundlin’ or a by-blow?”

“Heavens, no!” the startled abbess exclaimed, clapping a hand to her breast. “Her father sent her here. He’s a respectable merchant with five daughters.”

He blinked, stunned. He’d swived a nun who was the daughter of a respectable merchant.

So many questions raced through his head, he couldn’t think of which one to ask first.

The abbess continued in a hushed voice. “She isn’t in trouble, is she, Brother? Is that why ye’re here?”

“Nay.” The word came out on a croak. He was still reeling.

“Because, between ye and me,” she confided, “her father is quite a generous donor, and if his daughter is removed from the convent for any reason…”

He nodded. He understood. “No need to fret, Reverend Mother. That’s not why I’ve come. And as far as her father…” His voice cracked on the word. “I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”

Adam couldn’t have been more sincere.

The ugly truth—that he had trysted with a nun—would follow him to his grave.