Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1)

by Amy Jarecki

  Wallace slapped the monk with a quick backhand. “I have not and ye will not be speaking ill of the lass even if ye are a priest.”

  “Bloody hell.” Blair could swear with the worst of them. “Ye’re a bit oversensitive.”

  “Aye? Well, I havena slept in three days.”

  Robbie tugged William’s arm. “Ye should have seen her. She wouldna take a word of backtalk from anyone.”

  That was all Wallace needed. He was about to cast Eva out of the camp and now she’d singlehandedly organized an army of men. “Where do they all hail from?”

  Waddling on his stout legs, Brother Bartholomew caught up to them, huffing with exertion. “There’re coming in droves—tenant farmers and young fellas out to make a name for themselves, mostly.”

  “Anyone skilled with a sword or bow?” Blair asked.

  The little monk drew in a deep breath. “Ye’ll have to determine that. I’ve enough work for ten men just trying to keep this lot fed.”

  Once they reached the bottom of the hill, they were met by dozens of expectant faces. A man with a grizzly beard and a smithy’s apron stepped forward. “We heard ye took a stand in Lanark. Scotland needs a man who is not afeared to face Longshanks.”

  “Aye,” said another. “My village was burned, my family murdered. I will not rest until I have vengeance.”

  A pair of men marched through the clearing carrying a deer suspended from a pole. Robbie pointed. “Ye see. Miss Eva set them to hunting and set the lads to sharpening the weapons and making arrows.”

  “And I’m melting every bit of iron I can find to make swords and arrow tips,” said the man in the smithy’s apron.

  William pushed his fingers under his helm and scratched his head. “I must thank her.” Now she’d be even more difficult to send away. The lads even appeared to like her.

  He addressed the assembled men. “We’ve a battle to fight one month hence and I’ll not have any men march against trained English soldiers without being prepared. Edward Little I appoint over the archers. John Blair will train all foot soldiers in pole arms and I will teach each and every one of ye how to wield a sword.”

  A cheer rose above the forest and, at the moment, William hoped the English could hear. A new, more organized rebellion would soon be breathing down their necks.

  He leaned toward Blair. “If this many men can find us, we need to post a watch in a perimeter around the camp. See to it groups of men are assigned a turn—no one shirks guard duty.”

  “I’ll see it done, sir.”

  Wallace stopped to correct the cleric, but from Blair’s stern countenance, he clamped his mouth shut. He heeded what Wishart and Stewart said—the commoners were in dire need of someone they could follow. If they deemed him a knight of the people, then so be it.

  ***

  After eating his fill of venison, William still hadn’t seen Eva. Too tired to face her anyway, he’d rather put off the unsavory duty of turning the lass out until the morrow. He could fight for hours and never grow weary, but days in the saddle followed by lack of sleep sapped him like the ague.

  Still daylight, he picked up his kit with drying towel and soap and headed for the River Ayr.

  In truth, it was a relief to have Eva set the men to task. William did need to thank her for that before…

  Ballocks!

  Damnation, he could hold on to no regrets. The woman posed too much of a distraction. She must go and that was the end of it.

  On the morrow, after he’d had some rest, he would take up the reins and turn his group of men into warriors. They had all come to make a stand against the oppressor. Men like that had heart, and with that kind of vitality, he would find a way to mold them into a formidable force. He could be so much more effective with two hundred fifty trained soldiers from Lord Stewart, another hundred from Douglas, and mayhap he’d raise another hundred before they left Leglen Wood.

  The English in Ayr won’t know what hit them. This is what we needed to start an all-out rebellion.

  Reaching the place where the water pooled, William disrobed and set his things on a rock just like he always did. It wasn’t often the weather was nice enough to strip down to his braies and take a dip in the icy river. One of the things he missed most about Ellerslie was Ma’s wooden barrel filled with warm water, though he’d never admit it to a soul.

  He dove in, the bitter cold enlivening his tired limbs. He kicked his legs and pumped his arms, warming to the water as he swam against the current. Then he rolled to his back and floated down river, watching the tree limbs pass above. Nothing like cool water and the tranquility of nature to help him clear his mind.

  A lily white flicker caught the corner of his eye.

  William let his legs drift downward as he planted his feet in the sandy riverbed.

  In a heartbeat, he scarcely could take a breath.

  Wearing not a stitch of clothing, Eva stood in thigh-deep water with her back to him.

  Before he blinked, his gaze slid from coppery tresses brushing feminine shoulders to a tiny waist which fanned into glorious heart-shaped buttocks. Heaven’s stars, her flawless skin had to be as pure white as fresh cream.

  God on the cross, save me.

  Christ, he was only a flesh and blood man. Who on earth could resist such a temptation? He clenched his teeth and growled. Frigid water or nay, he lengthened like a stallion catching scent of a filly in heat. God’s teeth, even his ballocks turned to balls of tight molten steel. Palms sweaty, chest heavy and heaving, his mind honed in on one thing. Lord, he had to bring himself under control…and why the devil was she naked, bathing in the wood with so many men about? Hell, if anyone saw her…

  He clenched his fists.

  She turned. The devil only knew why she did that, but her mouth formed an “O” with her gasp and she crossed an arm over her breasts and slid a hand in front of the triangle of red curls he’d already seen. He’d caught a glimpse of her breasts, too. He stood dumbstruck, his feet sinking into the riverbed. By the saints, he couldn’t turn away from such perfection—full and ripe as melons, tipped with pink rosebuds. He licked his lips, forcing himself to clench his muscles against the blast of desire surging through his groin.

  She blinked in rapid succession. “You-you’re back?” Heaven help him, she was lovely even with the bruise surrounding her eye.

  “Aye.” The word came out with a husky growl. “Robbie told me what ye did with the men. I owe ye my thanks.” As the vivid green of her eyes became more intense, he suddenly realized he’d started walking toward her.

  Eva’s gaze dipped down the length of his body. Her lips parted and a dainty pink tongue slipped out and moistened them.

  William looked down. The water all but covered his braies and the thick column that refused to ease. But she was so close he could practically reach out and touch her. If only he could pull her naked body into his embrace and kiss those bow-shaped lips—enjoy those soft, pliable breasts pressing into his chest.

  She dropped her arms and took one step toward him—an inordinately bold move for a lass. It made the fire in his groin burn all the more. When her brilliant green eyes met his gaze, her chin ticked up and she smiled.

  Wantonly.

  “Someone needed to set the men to task until you arrived.” Her voice turned sultrier than a midsummer’s day.

  “Eva, I—” Blessed be the saints, he didn’t know what to say—could scarcely inhale—especially with those unbelievably desirable breasts now pointing straight at him. Jesus, he wanted to taste them, his fingers ached to sink into her softness and run across those deliciously hard tips.

  With one more step, she placed her palm on his chest. “Yes?” she asked breathlessly.

  God’s bones.

  It took every bit of self-control he could muster not to drag her into his arms—devour those enticing lips—grind his hips against that red triangle that screamed for him. Lord, if she was half as delectable as she looked, he’d come undone in two blinks of an eye.


  But no. He could not act on his base desires. With a surge of restraint, he grasped her wrist. “Ye must return from whence ye came.”

  Her lips thinned, but she took her free hand and brushed the hair from his face. Bloody hell, why did she have to touch him like that? “I know I pushed you too far—showed you too much.” She glanced back to the shore. “Look, I borrowed a cake of soap from Brother Bartholomew.”

  William’s mouth grew dry.

  She stepped so close, the heat from her naked body warmed him. “Please don’t send me away. I am convinced I’m meant to be here.” The green of her eyes grew darker. God, she was too close for him to form a rational thought. “With you.”

  William shook his head and turned his back before she could further distract him with her wicked body. “Scotland is at war. I’m living in a cave. ’Tis no place for a woman, no matter in which century she was born.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  Och aye, now she sounds self-assured. “Nay, ye cannot. Ye proved that at the gaol in Lanark when I found ye unconscious—look at your blessed eye. ’Tis still black and blue. Besides, even if ye were to stay, how could I trust ye?”

  She coughed out a high-pitched gasp. “I’ve been completely truthful with you.”

  “Aye?” He rubbed his eyes, trying to forget the image of her succulent breasts prone to him—pink tips—silken skin. God’s teeth, he needed to dunk his head in the icy river and hold it there. “’Tis easier to believe ye lost your home in Dunbar than ye came from the future.”

  “I fabricated my story at first, because I knew you wouldn’t believe me then. Once you found my things—well, I had no choice but to be honest.” By the stars, she spoke with a forked tongue.

  He folded his arms to steel his resolve. “Ye see? Ye’ll lie to me if ye think I’ll believe it.”

  “I will not.” The water sloshed. “I hate lying. I have pledged my life to telling the truth. If I weren’t afraid you’d slit my throat with that gargantuan sword of yours, I would have told you the truth from the outset.”

  William regarded her over his shoulder. She’d climbed onto the shore and wrapped a drying cloth around her body, thankfully hiding those distracting breasts…alluring hips—but those slender legs still attracted him like a cock to a hen.

  She jutted her foot to the side and tapped the damnable thing. “Tell me. If you awoke unarmed in some strange place with a crazy man—clearly not from your time—swinging a sword at you, and were dragged from the scene by an enormous brute and put on a very large horse, the likes you’d never ridden before—would you be forthcoming about your identity?”

  He waded to the shore, moving his hands to his hips. “Of course I would.”

  She groaned. “Let me put it another way. You’ve heard of the Egyptians, right?”

  “Aye.”

  “So if you awoke in an Egyptian temple, before the time of Moses, and they identified you as an Israelite, wouldn’t you try to do what you could to stay out of chains…until you figured out how to get home?”

  Damnation, she could take an argument and turn it into a muddle. “So are ye an English spy?”

  “No, you aren’t understanding me at all.” Her face flushed red as she shook her finger. “I’m just trying to say that I had no choice but to make up a story until I was sure you wouldn’t kill me.”

  “Ye think I willna?”

  She glanced back to her clothes, spread out to dry in the sun. “I suppose it is a possibility, but you are William Wallace, not a bloodthirsty murderer. I now know I was meant to find you.”

  Now she had him tapping his foot. “How can ye be so sure?”

  “Because I swore I could uncover your story without changing the past—I swore I would bring the truth to the world.” She was being nonsensical.

  “I am but a crofter’s son—a younger one at that, meant to become a monk. I lead a small band of rebels.” Heaven help him, his gaze slipped to the points of her breasts straining against the linen cloth. With a growl, he forced his eyes to look at her face. “Aye, we’ve gained some recognition from our raid on Lanark, but I’ll soon fall into obscurity. History remembers kings, bishops and popes. Even if ’tis as ye said and I become a commander. When John Balliol is returned to the throne, Scotland will once again be at peace, and I can return to Dundee and take my vows.”

  Raising her chin, her gaze met his, then drifted aside as she sighed. William couldn’t shake the sense that she disapproved of something he’d said—knew there must be something she wasn’t letting on to. He wanted to ask her how she’d known so much about what would happen during his meeting with Lord Stewart, but discussing it with the woman would only encourage further soothsaying.

  “My mind’s run amuck.” He gestured toward her clothes. “Put on your gown. Ye shouldna be out here alone with all the men mulling about. ’Tisn’t safe.”

  “But Robbie told them I was…that you would, um, have words with anyone who touched me.”

  William knew well enough what the lad would have said and it had nothing to do with a conversation. “Aye? With a body as sinful as yours, mayhap no God-fearing man in Scotland is safe.” He turned his back. “Now put on the damned dress afore I do something we’ll both regret.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Eva hadn’t been able to look William in the eye after they’d returned to the camp. And he obviously wanted to distance himself from her—hadn’t said a word. He’d taken the evening meal sitting with Eddy Little and John Blair, pretty much like he always did.

  But Eva couldn’t ignore the tension in his silence. Lord, he said he’d burn her if she was still there when he returned from Renfrew. The reason she didn’t flee to Fail and beg to go home was because she hadn’t lied—prayed he figured that out during his meeting with the High Steward. He had to learn to trust her—believe her story, and fleeing would only serve to solidify his misgivings and errant assumptions.

  Why is he so tight-lipped? He must be pleased about all the men flocking to him to pledge their fealty.

  Now that their numbers had tripled, men filled their trenchers and sat wherever they could find a place, mostly outside. As usual, Eva sat with Robbie. At least he seemed to like her, and though he was just a lad, she felt safe beside him. He didn’t look at her with leering eyes and she had no doubt the boy would stand up to any man in her defense.

  Though the boy yammered about his day and all the new recruits, Eva hadn’t listened. She pushed her food around her trencher, too wound up about acting so embarrassingly bold when alone and naked with William. At first she’d been mortified that he’d caught her bathing, but when he moved in her direction with that look on his face—lips slightly parted, his hungry eyes drinking in every inch of her bare flesh—she’d misread his intention.

  God, she was a lamebrain. Why on earth did a man seven hundred years her senior happen to be the only guy who’d stirred any sort of desire since Steven’s death? Oh yeah, William Wallace wasn’t just the greatest hero Scotland had ever known, he was hot, sexy and as rugged as the Highlands. The gruff alpha male wasn’t usually Eva’s type, but heaven help her, the man had the most chiseled set of ripped abs she’d ever seen.

  Michelangelo would have killed to sculpt him…but jeez, even the brilliant artist won’t be born for almost two hundred years.

  She chewed her thumbnail. An affair with William wouldn’t have been so bad—if he’d shown any interest at all. She could have allowed herself a fleeting tryst. Why not? I’m a widow. They could have both enjoyed a zippy romance with no strings attached.

  Not that she’d ever in her life considered doing anything so daring.

  A lead ball sank to the pit of her stomach. For the first time since she’d arrived in the thirteenth century, she thought about William’s gruesome end. She could have heaved all over her trencher.

  Forget lust, it was probably best they remain at odds after all. She needed to stop acting like a total idiot. The first love of her life wa
s murdered—nothing like setting herself up to fall head over heels for someone she knew would…

  A man climbed onto a rock and began to play a wooden flute and the noise in the cave ebbed to a low hum. Spritely music echoed off the cavern walls and whirled around them. Goodness, the acoustics were ideal for a performance.

  Robbie tapped his foot. “I like a good tune.”

  “Me, too.” Eva clapped her hands together, but when she met William’s gaze across the fire, her smile waned.

  He looked at her with such intensity she could have sworn she was still naked. I’ll never live down that slip of judgement. She smoothed her hands over her skirts to ensure everything was in place. But she couldn’t drag her eyes away from William’s stare. It made her breath come in short gasps. Had he decided to rid himself of her once and for all?

  I should have run.

  But I couldn’t.

  God, why does he have to be so…so…male?

  Damn, I always want that which I can never have.

  Robbie elbowed her in the ribs. “Do ye sing?”

  “Aye.” She licked her lips and forced herself to tear her gaze away from William and regard the lad. “I used to…” When I was at uni.

  He rolled his hand through the air. “Go on then. Give us a tune.”

  “Oh no.” She shook her head. “I doubt I know any songs that would be familiar to you.”

  Robbie stood, stretching his arms wide. “Who wants to hear Willy’s woman sing us a tune?”

  Eva’s panicked gaze shot to William. His jaw tensed like he could kill the lad—she could too, damn the little pipsqueak.

  But the others hollered and clapped, egging her on.

  William shook his head, then shrugged. A lot of help he’d be. Eva bumbled to her feet and stood while her mind recounted all the tunes she’d ever sung from Itsy Bitsy Spider to Ave Maria to the top ten she’d hummed with on the radio last week. Not a one would do. Even Ring Around the Rosy hadn’t been composed yet. Lord, the Black Death wouldn’t hit for about another fifty years. She shuddered and closed her eyes.