Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1)

by Amy Jarecki

  William slammed his fist into his palm. I will discover who wielded the sword and avenge my father’s death. The time of action is neigh regardless of our numbers.

  It didn’t matter that he’d been fifty miles northwest when news came of the English raid, William felt responsible. He needed more scouts. That his father was one of the slain made his guilt sink to new lows. He and his men carried the torch of freedom because they had sworn no fealty to the oppressor. He would see his king reinstated on the throne or die in the process. That is what united this band of warriors—brothers in a common fight to preserve the identity of a nation.

  Eva emerged from the clump of gorse. The sun shimmered across her ginger hair and highlighted the smooth creaminess of her skin. Had he seen her in full light before, he never would have mistaken her for a lad, even though her height was unusual. William slid his gaze down her long legs and his nether parts stirred. “No woman should be clad thus,” he growled, unable to pull his gaze away.

  Though she wore a thick doublet hiding her upper body, her slender legs were scandalous. There is a reason women wear layers of skirts. If even half are as well formed as Eva, no man could engage in an honest day’s labor when faced with lasses clad in tight-fitting chausses.

  Worse, a woman had no place amongst his band of rebels. Rebel—that’s what many of his countrymen believed him to be. But William saw himself as a Samaritan to Scotland’s common man—a patriot.

  He inclined his head toward a fallen log. “Come. Let us break our fast.”

  She pushed the heels of her hands against her temples as if she had an ache in her head. “I need a cup of coffee.”

  William sat on a log. “What is this ye say…coffee?”

  She looked at him and arched one brow as if she considered him daft. “It’s a hot drink that helps me wake up in the morning.”

  “But ye are already awake.” He broke off a chunk of bread and handed it to her.

  Taking it, she nibbled. A crease etched between her eyebrows like she definitely had a sore head.

  William always felt his best come morn. Mayhap she did suffer a severe blow to her skull. “Do ye have any knots on your head?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Because of your forgetfulness. If ye were knocked atop your head, ye might have a tender spot.”

  She clamped the piece of bread between her teeth and ran her hands over her silken red tresses. “The whole thing hurts—I think because I still have no idea how I ended up—ah—at Fail Monastery.”

  Eva repeated “Fail Monastery” like it was a question, as if she didn’t believe that’s where she truly had been when he found her cowering beneath the altar.

  William tore a bite of bread with his teeth. “I assure ye. There is no doubt in my mind where ye were when we happened upon the monastery. And I’d venture to say, ye’d not be alive had my men and I not arrived when we did.”

  She stopped chewing and regarded him. Bloody oath, she could melt the most hardened of hearts with that green-eyed stare. “I haven’t thanked you yet. Please forgive me.”

  He looked away and swiped his hand through the air. God’s teeth, he needed to find her kin and be rid of such a distraction. “’Twas nothing. At least we were able to save one life.” William gulped down his bread, thickness swelling in his throat. He glanced away while the fire of rage ignited in his chest.

  I’ll not be thinking of bonny eyes whilst my father’s body is still warm.

  When she placed her palm on his hand, William took in a sharp breath. Her lithe fingers, soft as rose petals, soothed ever so much. Damnation, he should have pulled away, but the warmth of her touch and the kindness of her gesture drew him inexplicably. It had been too long since he’d been shown tenderness.

  Mayhap a moment of respite.

  Eva must have sensed the tension in his body ease, because she slowly rubbed her fingers back and forth atop his hand.

  “I’m sorry about your father,” she said so softly, he barely made out the words.

  William closed his eyes and swallowed. “He was a good man.”

  “And you will carry his honor in your heart.”

  “Aye. That I will.” He forced himself to snatch his hand away. “But ’tis none of your concern.”

  A pained expression flashed in her eyes, then she averted her face and took another bite of bread. William didn’t doubt she’d seen trauma and pain beyond her years. Who hadn’t in these trying times?

  His gaze drifted down to her boots and he stared. “Where the devil did ye find such craftsmanship?” He leaned forward for a better look. “I’ve never seen the like.”

  She crossed her ankles and tucked her feet taut against the log. “They’re functional—keep my feet dry in the wet.”

  His eyes strayed up those damned tight-fitting chausses again. “Mayhap we can find ye some proper clothing. I hate to think what the townsfolk will say when they see ye.” He pinched her peculiar doublet between his fingers. “Your costume will draw consternation for certain.”

  Biting her bottom lip, she smoothed her hands down the overstuffed quilting. “Do you have a mantle I can borrow?”

  “Dunna worry about that. ’Tis best to pass ye off as a lad until ye can be properly dressed. Ye wouldna want the old crows to think ye a witch.”

  She shuddered. “Surely they wouldn’t. I possess no magical powers whatsoever.”

  Footsteps resounding from the cave drew William’s attention.

  “There ye are,” Blair said, heading toward the brush. “We’ll need to be away soon.”

  William shoved the remaining bit of bread in his mouth. “Och, aye. The sooner the better.” He turned to Eva. “Since we’ll be riding out of the forest in daylight, I’ll have to blindfold ye.”

  Mayhap the woman looked bonnier than a posy of heather, but he still couldn’t trust her—couldn’t trust anyone outside his inner circle of men.

  ***

  Thrust into hell and then blindfolded?

  Unable to see a thing, Eva stood near a tree. Dammit, she needed her sight to write this story. Not to mention William had been right that her attire would bring her a world of trouble. In medieval times, her present state of dress would be enough to see her locked in the stocks or worse. What a predicament she’d literally fallen into.

  Should she fear for her life or be elated?

  Grave danger lay ahead for certain.

  Excitement, too?

  Possibly.

  If only she could find a way to allay William’s suspicions about her character. Nonetheless, his distrust did nothing to quash the electricity firing across her skin. Talk about the story of a lifetime. If she could figure out how to get back home, she already had enough material to write one helluva tale.

  The blindfold was so tight, it made her headache throb. To top it off, caffeine withdrawals grew more torturous by the moment. Standing completely sightless, she tugged the coarse cloth in an attempt to loosen it enough not to hurt. “Where are we heading?”

  “Ellerslie,” William’s deep voice rumbled.

  Her stomach flipped. Though she’d tried to refrain from asking too many questions, she couldn’t let this one slip past, “Do you mean Elderslie in Renfrewshire?”

  “No.”

  Damn. But it’s still a clue.

  He grasped her arm and pulled her forward. “Come.”

  The unmistakable scent of horse neared as she scooted her feet over the uneven ground. Eva would never forget last night riding on the back of Wallace’s enormous warhorse. Every time the animal’s movement jerked, her heart nearly burst out of her chest.

  “I’ll give ye a leg up,” William said, placing his hands on her knee.

  Her stomach lurched. “What?”

  “Bend your knee, ye daft woman.”

  Eva complied, and before she could brace herself, he hefted her straddling on to the back of the horse. She reached forward—yep, the saddle was right in front of her.

  William gave
her thigh a slap. “I’d think a lass as well traveled as ye would be a mite more comfortable on the back of a horse.”

  An image of the red Fiat flashed through Eva’s mind. “Well…” She grimaced. “You’ve either seen me frightened because I’d nearly been killed by a madman or blindfolded. I don’t think you have grounds upon which to judge.”

  The horse jostled while the saddle creaked under William’s weight. With a squeal, Eva threw her arms around him. Her cheek smashed into steel. Nothing quite as unromantic as grabbing a man wrapped in mail.

  He chuckled. “Ye see what I mean. Ye’re no horsewoman.”

  I never claimed to be. Chewing the inside of her cheek, hundreds of thoughts warred in her head, the first being her sore butt. Straddling the horse stretched her inner thighs, aching from spending so much time on the back of the gelding the day before. It would kill her to ride the entire day. “How long will it take to get to Ellerslie?”

  “We’ll be there by midday.”

  The cloth encircling her head itched. “How long do I have to wear this blindfold?”

  “Until I say.”

  Eva closed her eyes and listened to the sounds. Twigs snapped behind and leaves rustled above.

  “Do ye have kin in Edinburgh?” he asked.

  “N-no.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Dead.” What else could she say? Her parents wouldn’t be born for about six hundred and sixty years.

  William didn’t respond right away. “Do ye have any recollection of how ye ended up in the monastery?”

  “I wish I did.” Eva unzipped her vest and clasped her fingers around the medallion. It must have had something to do with Walter Tennant and this piece of bronze. But how do I explain that? I fell seven hundred years through some sort of wormhole and here I am? Right. Might as well tell him to stop the horse and string me up in the nearest tree.

  “What was the last thing ye remember?” His deep voice rolled—sexier than…

  Damn, she needed to think. She’d said she was born in Edinburgh—told Robbie she’d traveled to the Holy Land. Thank God she and Steve had toured the Mediterranean with her folks a few years back. She pulled her pen and notebook from the inside of her vest and started writing blind. The only way to keep my facts straight is to write them down.

  “What are ye doing?” William asked.

  “Trying to remember.” Writing without sight was near impossible, but it helped her think. She scribbled as best as she could:

  In May of 1297, a common woman could hope for little more than to be a servant—if that. One year prior, the towns of Berwick and Dunbar were savagely attacked by the English. Since then, King Edward has wasted no time besieging castles, instilling his tyrannical government and ensuring the Scottish nobles and landowners paid him fealty. Everyone is scared. Many nobles sided with Edward to retain their lands.

  She stilled her pen for a moment, biting her bottom lip, then finished her entry:

  These are among the most barbaric times in the history of Scotland.

  Too many sharp objects!

  Eva rubbed her thumb over the medallion as ice pulsed through her veins. I may not survive the next twenty-four hours, let alone make it home to tell my story.

  She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Ma died giving me birth.” She stole that line from Robbie. “Da fought with the Knights Hospitallers and was killed by the Mamluks in Egypt.” She’d learned that tidbit from her vacation. “After I returned to Edinburgh, I found employment as a chambermaid for Lady Comyn and moved to Dunbar…and you know what happened there.” Thank God she’d studied history in college.

  William’s saddle creaked with the sway of the horse’s gait. “Aye, but that doesna explain why ye were on the other side of the country in Fail.”

  Eva guessed the distance between Dunbar and Fail to be about ninety miles—not too far a distance to travel on foot over a year. “After the English attack, I wandered. Times are lean and there’s not much work for the daughter of a knight. Though I can read and write, it is heresy for a female to be a cleric.”

  “So, ye became a tinker…”

  “Aye.” Eva scribbled the word, synonymous for a Scottish Gypsy. She couldn’t have said it any better. “I was set upon by outlaws and that’s the last thing I remember.”

  “Ye’re lucky to be alive.”

  Eva groped to slide her notebook and pen into her inside pocket. “I surely am.” She let out a long sigh, satisfied that she’d woven a believable story—at least one that a thirteenth century Scotsman could believe. On the other hand, she hated lying. She wanted to be the journalist who always reported the truth and to do that she must live by a code of ethics with honesty at the top.

  Perhaps she’d be able to reveal the truth in time. Today, however, she set her priorities for this quest: first, stay alive, and then somehow weave her way into Wallace’s confidence.

  Chapter Six

  A good hour after William allowed Eva to remove her blindfold, they neared a stone longhouse. To the east, the smell of hay wafted from a stable. Beyond, tilled fields sprouted shoots promising good crops. As they rode closer, the sound of a woman’s wail sent a woeful knell cutting through the breeze.

  Her stomach clenched. Lord knew she was familiar with the sound of a widow’s lament.

  The tension emanating from William’s back demanded that Eva remain quiet. This was a time of mourning. Any questions she might have must wait.

  William dismounted and reached his hands up to her.

  She peered out the corner of her eye to see if anyone was looking. He’d become more gentlemanly now he knew her gender. Ignoring his gesture, she slid her foot forward into the stirrup and grasped the saddle like she’d done the day before. “I can do it.”

  At least that’s what she thought. When she leaned forward to dismount, her heel dug into the horse’s flank. The animal swung his hindquarters aside and reared. Shrieking, Eva flew backward and landed on her backside. “Ow.”

  “Ye should have let me help.” Wallace pulled her up. “If my men didn’t ken ye were a lass, they do now.”

  Eva caught John Blair’s stunned expression—then Robbie’s wide-eyed, gaped-mouthed stare. “Sorry,” she apologized, trying to shrink.

  Robbie scratched his head. “Why didna ye say ye were a lass?”

  “Wheesht,” William said over his shoulder, then led Eva toward the cottage. “I’ve a great many things to do, the first to see to my mother. I’ll have Wynda find ye something suitable to wear. I’d ask Ma to help ye gain employment, but I cannot lumber her with such a task when she’s in mourning.”

  Eva hurried to keep up with his long strides. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m…I’m a very helpful person. I could ride along with you and your men. You know—be your chronicler. Yep. That would be the perfect employment for me.”

  He stopped and grasped her shoulders. “The last thing ye are cut out for is to ride with a mob of patriots. I’ll make some inquiries on your behalf and that’s all I the assistance I can offer ye.”

  He didn’t understand. With her training in journalism, she could record events as they happened like no one else. A little rejection? Oh no. She couldn’t back down. “But—”

  “Keep quiet and mind yourself.” William opened the door.

  Eva followed, pushing her agenda aside—but by no means letting it go.

  “Wynda,” he called, leading Eva across the threshold into a dimly lit room. A hearth with blackened iron pots filled the far wall, but Eva’s gaze immediately snapped to a body wrapped in linen, lying atop the rectangular table. A woman sat in a chair, her head bent toward the deceased while she dabbed her eyes with a kerchief.

  Before Eva could observe more, another woman dressed in a roughhewn blue dress with a linen apron bustled forward. She curtseyed and bowed her head, topped with a servant’s coif. “Aye, Mr. Willy?”

  “This is Eva. She’s lost—suffered a blow to the head. Please find her
something more suitable to wear.”

  The woman gaped at Eva’s legs. “Ye’ve brought a wayward tinker to your father’s house when we’re all overcome with grief?”

  William placed his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “The lass barely escaped an English sword yesterday. I couldna stand by whilst he slit her throat. Now be a good matron and find her a gown.”

  And a bath and a toothbrush…and a cup of coffee. Eva bowed her head to Wallace. “Thank you for your generosity.”

  Wynda rolled her eyes. “Ye not only bring a tinker into the cottage, ye bring a foreign heathen.” She grabbed Eva by the arm, none too gently. “What are ye thinking, ye fool-born lad?”

  William flicked his wrist as if to shoo them away. “Just see to her needs whilst I comfort Ma.”

  Wynda pulled Eva down a narrow passageway and into a room with a pallet and three trunks lining the walls. “Ye’re fortunate the Wallace’s are a charitable lot. If it were up to me, I’d send ye on your way.”

  Eva’s face burned. “I apologize for the intrusion. Unfortunately, I’ve found myself in a very awkward situation.”

  “I’ll say. The gall to be running around the countryside dressed in chausses.” The woman huffed at Eva’s skinny jeans. “Ye ought to be taken out back and have the hide beat out of ye.”

  Eva opened her mouth to argue, but decided against it. Breaking sumptuary laws in medieval times was a serious offense. She let out a whoosh of air and clasped her hands under her chin. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Aye, ye’ll earn your keep as long as ye are under the Wallace’s roof.” Wynda pulled a wrinkled blue dress from one of the trunks and held it up. “This ought to cover ye at least, though I’ve never seen a woman so tall.” She shook her finger. “And dunna be asking me to take out the hem for ye. I’ve nay enough time for that.”