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Eve growled in fury. She wiped the custard off her cheek with her thumb and licked it off. It was actually very tasty. But she was more interested in dishing out just deserts.

She grabbed the bowl of butter and plopped it upside down onto his shoulder, twisting it for good measure.

“I couldn’t very well tell ye I was a nun,” she said. “Not after…” She stopped. She didn’t dare confess her terrible sin.

He scooped up the butter and slathered it on the top of her wimple. “Don’t ye think ye should have told me before we…” He too was unwilling to finish the sentence.

“Ye knew ye were ne’er goin’ to marry me, ye bein’ who ye are,” she said. Now her voice was breaking, and she was miserable. She grabbed her slice of roast and dropped it down the front of his cassock.

“Marry?” the abbess blurted. “Who’s talkin’ about marryin’?”

Adam groaned with disgust as the roast slid down his chest and caught just above the cincture at his waist.

Eve continued. “Ye should ne’er have let me…” She shook her head, remembering their first tryst.

“Let ye? That’s not how I remember it.”

That wasn’t how she remembered it either. She’d practically thrown herself at him. Still, it was unforgivable of him to bring it up in front of everyone.

All she could do in her defense was splash her cider in his face.

He sputtered in surprise and tossed his head, shaking the cider droplets from his beard. Then, with a narrow and determined gaze, he picked up his cup to return the favor.

Eve ducked out of the path just in time. The wave of cider sloshed past her and smacked into the face of the abbess.

For one terrible moment, time stopped. The abbess’s face was frozen in a grimace of alarm and disgust. The nuns were petrified. The only sound in the room was the faint drip of ale rolling off the abbess’s quivering chin onto the table.

Eve held her breath.

She expected the abbess would rise with injured dignity and speak in an imperial voice, commanding Adam to be gone and Eve to return to her cell.

Never in a million years did she expect the abbess to seek vengeance.

The indignant old woman swept up her own cup of ale in one angry claw and tossed its contents toward Adam.

Unfortunately, her aim was not very accurate. A small portion splashed his brow. The rest splattered onto the nun beyond him.

The sister across the table from her broke into peals of laughter, which caused the affronted nun to throw half a buttered roll at her.

The roll bounced off of her and landed on the bosom of the sister beside her.

That sister shrieked in outrage, casting one parsnip at the tosser and another at the giggler for good measure.

Then the battle was on. One offended sister took revenge on the next. Smearing custard on veils. Pouring cider over wimples. Wiping verjuice on habits.

Soon the air was filled with flying neeps and sailing salat. Bounding rolls and hurled coffyns. Parsnips and pears flung like missiles from a catapult. The Refectory echoed with shrill screams of insult punctuated by raucous shouts of triumph.

All the while, even though for all intents and purposes, she’d started the melee, the abbess yelled, “Stop! Stop it, I say!”

It was no use. Chaos reigned. And Eve still had matters to settle.

“Ye deserted me,” she shouted over the crowd, prodding Adam in the chest. “Ye let me believe ye wanted to marry me, and then ye left to spy for the king.”

He grabbed her finger to stop her pokes. “Ye let me believe ye wanted to marry me. But once ye were given the chance, ye went straight back to the convent.”

She snatched her finger away. “Ye betrayed me. Ye told me ye were goin’ to help me find justice for the alewife. But ye ne’er intended to help at all, did ye?”

“I did help her,” he said, snapping up a napkin to dry his beard. “I gave the alewife my reward.”

“Your reward for what?” she said, dodging a half-eaten roll someone threw. “Capturin’ me and tellin’ the king I was Fergus’s ‘spy’?”

A stray splat of custard hit his shoulder. “For endin’ the war.”

She grew still. “Ye ended the war?”

“Aye. Why do ye think I’m here now?”

“The siege is o’er?” That was admittedly impressive.

“Aye.” A pear flew past his head.

“How did ye do it?”

He sniffed. “I tricked Fergus into surrenderin’ ere the king laid siege.”

That made sense. But not all of it did.

She picked up her napkin and swabbed at the sticky custard on her cheek. Then she narrowed her eyes. “Why did ye let the king take me prisoner? And put me in shackles?”

“I was tryin’ to keep ye safe, out o’ harm’s way. I knew the king wouldn’t harm ye.” His face took on a sad demeanor then. “And how did ye thank me? By breakin’ free and fleein’ across Scotland, completely out o’ my protection.”

They were at an impasse.

It seemed they’d both meant well.

But how could they get past the deception they’d used on each other? The falsehoods they’d told? How could they forgive the betrayals?

One couldn’t have a relationship built on lies.

She had to take off her mask and tell him the truth.

The food skirmish was coming to a close now. Not because the nuns had come to their senses and realized the childishness of their behavior. And not because the abbess had demanded a ceasefire. But because they were running out of munitions.

Still, as Eve perused the Refectory, she saw breathless, bright-eyed, pink-cheeked nuns who hadn’t had so much fun in months. And that made her realize this really had never been her world. Why else had she spent so much time escaping it?

“This is your doin’, Sister Eve,” the abbess accused, gesturing to the mess of neeps and pears, meat and rolls, custard and cider strewn about the tables and floor. “What do ye have to say for yourself?”

Eve had much to say. But it was meant for Adam. She faced him, placed a hand on his chest, and gazed into his deep, warm, inviting eyes.

“After I met ye, Adam, I decided to give up the veil,” she confessed.

The other nuns whispered in wonder.

She continued, speaking her truth from the heart.

“Once I felt what ’twas like to love and be loved, to not be…

invisible, I knew I could no longer hide behind convent walls, pretendin’ I had no worldly desires.

” The room silenced. “I meant to break the news to my father, come what may, and make a life with the man with whom I’d fallen in love. ”

Adam’s eyes melted, and he clasped his hand over hers, against his heart.

“And I planned to make a life with you, Eve, damn my clan’s demands,” he told her. “Once I met you and found a kindred spirit…a woman who brought me joy and life and love…a woman who saw me for the first time—not as a Rivenloch, but as a man—I wasn’t about to let anything stand in the way.”

The nuns gasped at the revelation he was a Rivenloch and then sighed at his romantic words.

She smiled up at him, her eyes watering. “I don’t blame ye for takin’ my virtue. I volunteered it. But ye convinced me ye wanted to marry me.”

He nodded. “I shouldn’t ne’er have trysted with ye. But I did want to marry ye. I still do.”

Her heart was pounding so loudly with the rush of love flowing through her veins, she didn’t realize how deathly quiet the hall had gone.

In the silence, the abbess addressed the nuns, who were shocked speechless by the confession.

“And so ends our Martinmas morality play,” the abbess intoned, giving Eve a stern sideways glance before initiating a round of applause. “So ye see, novitiates, this is why ye must always battle diligently against the Devil and carnal desire.”