by J. L. Jarvis
“For what?” Violet tried to yank her arm free, but the shorter one grabbed her other arm and held on.
“I'm afraid you're mistaken.” With one sweeping motion, Robert extended his sword until it touched the taller man's neck.
The man’s companion pulled out a dirk, which Robert intercepted with his foot. His kick made the dirk fly into the water, nicking the short man’s cheek on the way. He cried out, holding his face. The taller man thrust his dirk forward, but Robert turned just in time to slice through the man's sleeve and leave a gash in his arm.
As he cried out, Robert pulled Violet onto his horse. “Hold on.”
Violet did just that as they rode back over the bridge and around the city wall. Across the river from Kinnoull Hill, Violet said, “You can let me off here. I’ll swim across if I have to.”
Making no effort to slow down, Robert looked over his shoulder. “I cannae let you do that. The river will catch you in its current and sweep you away with the tide.”
“I just want to go home.”
“Aye, but I cannae let you go until I can see you there safely.”
She tried to sound calm. “I appreciate all that you’ve done. Look, I’ll even put on that dress you got me, and I’ll blend right in crossing the bridge. But I’m going home.”
“Aye, but you'll come with me first. When I’m able, I’ll bring you back and help you get safely back to the cave.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather not wait.” Without waiting for him to reply, she slid off the back of the horse.
Robert reached for her and grasped her arm, but her momentum pulled them both to the ground. “Och, woman!”
She got up and ran toward the city. He caught up with her and hooked his arm about her waist just before she reached the town wall.
Violet struggled. “Why won't you just leave me alone?” She shoved her elbow into his waist.
He let out a slight grunt, but his grip didn’t weaken. He spoke close to her ear. “Calm down, lass, or you’ll draw attention that won’t help either of us.”
“I don’t care.”
The more she thrashed, the tighter his arms clamped around her. “Och, careful now. I dinnae want to hurt you.”
“But you will if you have to?” she said accusingly.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“So much for chivalry.” She tried to turn around to look at him, but he held her too tightly.
He spoke calmly. “So far you've done more hurting than I. You've a formidable elbow.”
She fell silent.
“Violet?” He leaned over her shoulder to look at her face, but she turned away.
A slight sniff followed another.
“Och, lass, dinnae cry.” He tenderly turned her about, and she buried her face in his chest, softly weeping.
Then she punched him in the stomach. She cursed and muttered something about his six-pack as she ran away.
Robert rolled his eyes and ran after her. Catching up, he grabbed her and spun her around. She tried to wriggle free, but he pulled her against him and held on until she gave up the struggle and met his annoyed glare with stubborn defiance. He answered with a glower. Her eyes widened then flitted downward. He usually reserved such looks for men with sharp weapons pointed at him, but he had had enough of her. She had disrupted his plans and defied his instructions with little regard for the consequences, not to mention his inconvenience. Moreover, a stray spiral of hair had fallen over her brow. It was driving him mad, so he moved it away from her eyes, which reflected the moonlight. Then he was lost. She glanced down, and he followed her gaze only as far as her lips, which were pouting—no doubt to bedevil him. He leaned closer, unable to help it. Nothing mattered except putting his lips on hers.
She lifted her eyes. “You were right.”
God’s teeth, was there no plan this woman could not thwart? “About what?” He did not bother to mask his impatience.
She shook her head. “I should have listened to you.”
“Violet…”
“No, I’ve made everything worse. But don’t think that means you can boss me around, ’cause you—”
Robert kissed her mid-sentence.
“Can’t,” she whispered.
He kissed her again.
Voices drew nearer. Robert looked toward the city gate and exhaled.
He took her hand and led her to his horse. “We must leave now.” He helped her into the saddle then swung himself into the saddle behind her. “Are you all right, lass?”
“Yes.” Her voice had an edge.
Robert started to ask if something was wrong, but she wasn’t elbowing, punching, or trying to run for the cave, so he raised a brow and rode on through the dawn mist in silence.
* * *
AFTER AN HOUR OF RIDING, Violet opened her eyes with a start.
“'Tis all right, lass. You dozed off.”
She wrinkled her nose and looked about at the farmland with crops newly sprouting from its rich soil. An old sandstone bridge crossed the river before them. “Where are we?”
“That's the Brig of Earn.”
Violet murmured a sleepy response and nestled back against his chest. Robert caught himself smiling and refocused his thoughts. Halfway over the bridge, a loud banging sound came from behind them and startled his horse, causing it to rear. Robert gripped the reins with one hand while he reached for his sword with the other. The sudden motion tossed Violet sideways. She lost her grip on the saddle and fell to the ground. A hoof narrowly missed her as she rolled out of its way and pulled herself to her feet. Robert subdued his horse while two riders approached, one from each end of the bridge. Both wore black Jesuit cassocks and wielded swords, like their attackers outside of Perth.
As one headed for Robert, Violet went at the other with her dirk. With a shout, the priest swept his sword behind his back in a swift circle and thrust it toward her, stopping a hair’s breadth from her chest. Then he struck her dirk with the flat edge of his sword and sent her only weapon flying into the river. With a fleeting glance, as though she weren’t threat enough to warrant the effort, he turned toward Robert, who thrust his sword and nicked the first attacker just under the left eye. His eyes flashed, but he quickly recovered. The second man joined in, ignoring Violet, who stood on the side of the bridge.
A moment later, a rock struck the first horseman’s head. Robert glanced over to see Violet grab the priest’s leg and, despite his kicks, manage to pull him from his horse. When he tried to get back on his feet, she leapt, hands reaching for his throat. He scooped his hands upward between hers and pushed her hands in opposite directions. A knife-like jab of his hand to her throat sent her to the ground, coughing and gasping. Retrieving his sword, he went after Robert, whose attention was on the first priest. He had just knocked the sword from the first priest’s hand when the second priest swung at Robert’s neck. Robert ducked just in time to avoid it and thrust his own sword into the man’s chest.
A strong hand pulled Robert’s leg from the opposite stirrup. As he turned, the first priest flipped him in an arc from his horse to the ground. Robert pushed up off of the ground, but with balletic grace, the priest swung his foot at Robert’s elbow and sent him falling once more. A sword slid along the ground toward Robert’s hand, and he caught it. Eyes blazing, Violet pulled herself up. The lass has mettle.
The priest spun around and almost floated as he leaped toward Violet, but Robert lunged and thrust his sword. It glanced off the priest’s ankle enough to make him fall short of his target. He pulled himself up, but before he had regained his balance, Robert rushed at him, yanked him up by the throat, and pushed him over the edge of the bridge. The wind fanned out the priest’s hair as he fell, grotesquely framing his blood-splattered face. Dark, chilling eyes glared up as he landed, back first, in the water. The next instant, the current swept him away.
A flash of light reflecting off metal caught Robert’s eye, and he turned to find a dirk heading for his chest. Robert blocked t
he move with a strike that barely slowed the man down. Robert’s sword and dirk lay scattered somewhere on the ground, lost in the struggle. He had only his bare hands to fight against the dirk being thrust at him. But the man froze, and the dirk fell from his hand. A moment later, his body went limp and crumpled, a dagger sunk into his back.
* * *
VIOLET STARED at the dead man, her bloodied hands palm up before her. “He was going to kill you.”
Robert pulled her into his arms. “Braw lass.”
He held her until she stopped trembling, then he took her hands and gently wiped off the blood with his cape. When she didn’t react, he circled his arms about her and held her, stroking her hair. After Violet pulled away gently, he turned and bent to pull the dirk from the attacker's back.
After wiping it on his cape, he offered the dirk to Violet. “This is yours now. You’ve earned it.”
She took it, but rather than showing the pride he hoped she’d feel, her knees buckled. He caught her and held her securely.
Lifting her chin, he said, “You saved my life.”
She nodded but said nothing.
* * *
BY MID-AFTERNOON, they had made their way safely to shelter within the dense woodlands. Too weary to go farther, they stopped to rest for the night.
In the warmth of the afternoon sun, Violet stared at the fire and tried to make sense of the day. To save Robert, she had gone against everything she believed. She had taken a life. Who was she to choose one life in exchange for another? A life for a death—she had made the choice in an instant, and now her hands were bloodied. Despite that, her heart suffered no such conflict, for she had saved Robert.
She lay down to rest. Robert covered her with a blanket and lay beside her. His body felt strong and warm against hers. He was all that she needed or wanted right then. They had been to the brink and faced death, and together, they had returned. It connected them somehow, beyond logic or words. If her thoughts wouldn’t fall as neatly into place as her heart, then perhaps it was best not to think at all. Warmed by Robert’s body, Violet sank into a deep sleep.
Night had fallen when Violet awoke to find Robert roasting a pheasant. As she sat up, he looked at her, and the corner of his mouth turned up. Violet pulled the blanket over her shoulders and clutched it tightly about her. Still groggy, she was content to sit in silence and watch Robert tend to the pheasant.
An unexpected calm that she hadn’t known since she had arrived came over her. At some point, her anger with Jack had dissolved. So much had happened to change her perspective. It now seemed so long ago—or rather, so far in the future. It wasn’t until all her anger was gone that she realized how strongly she had felt it. She was hurt but not broken, and she would move on. She now realized she had chased an illusion. Jack had been thrilling, all flash and no depth. As time passed, his lack of genuine, unselfish emotions had left her feeling as though something were missing. She had tried to ignore how it weighed upon her, but the truth was, she hadn’t been truly happy with him for some time. His recent actions had just forced her to face that. Doing so lifted a burden, and now she felt free.
Then there was Robert, who wanted nothing more than to help her. Why he hadn’t left her by the wayside any number of times, she couldn’t say. But he hadn’t. Instead, he had protected her. And he had kissed her. Of all the things he had done, or might have done, that kiss had opened her eyes. Evidently the road to Damascus ran southward from Perth. In that instant, she had realized that all of her resistance to Robert’s advice had been fueled by anger and pain, all of which was Jack’s fault. What she did with it now would be hers. She had given into fear and been overwhelmed by the strange surroundings that fueled her desire to go home. But Jack, the man who had hurt her, was there, while here was Robert, kind and brave—and protective of her. In a place where hostility flared up with no warning, there was something to be said for his protection. No matter what happened, Robert would look out for her. She couldn’t say the same for Jack. In that moment, the power shifted, but that was the problem. Now it was Robert whose actions would affect her, for he held the power to guide her home or break her heart—perhaps both.
He brought her some pheasant meat stuck on a stick. “Are you hungry?”
“Ravenous.” She took it and lifted her eyes. “Thank you.”
The warmth of his smile shone through his eyes as he sat beside her. While they ate, he talked about what they would do next. First, they were going to Edinburgh.
“What are the inns like?” She knew better than to hope for five-star hotels. She would settle for clean and free of infestation.
“We’ll not be in an inn. We’ll stay at the Blackfriars Monastery. It will be safer there.”
With that settled, they talked of Robert’s journey to the future and what he had thought of her time. Before long, they were laughing, completely at ease with each other. Violet wondered what her life might have been like if she’d met someone like him in her time. But that was the problem—he was a product of his time and circumstances. There would never be anyone like him in her world. When they had finished eating, they went to the stream to wash up.
Violet watched him refill a water skin. “What’s that made of?”
He glanced at her with a spark in his eyes. “Sheep bladder.”
Violet's expression froze. “Oh.”
Robert grinned and got up. Taking her hand, he led her back to the fire. She liked the feel of his hand against hers. They sat by the fire, and he put his arm about her shoulders. A piece of log in the fire broke and sent sparks up into the darkness. Robert put his hand on the nape of Violet's neck and combed his fingers through her hair. Violet tilted her head back into his palm as he leaned closer to breathe in the scent of her hair.
“I have wanted to do this since I first saw you clinging to the side of that mountain,” he said.
She would have smiled, but his touch took away her breath. She couldn’t think clearly. She could feel though, and that was a problem. Her emotions were raw. All she wanted was to sink into his arms and insulate herself from the harsh world she found herself in, but doing so would expose her to worse upheaval, for Robert was already a presence in her heart. She had not meant for that to happen, but it had. It was too late to guard her heart from him now. All she could hope for was damage control, for the pain he could cause when they parted would only grow worse. She knew that she ought to say something, but what? “Stop, your touch reaches a place in my heart that is wounded, and I want you there?”
Jack’s actions faded in the face of something far greater. She didn’t want to say it or even think it, but the word was there in her mind. No, this couldn’t be love. She couldn’t fall in love with him, because her heart would break when they parted. But even if they were parted at that moment, she would feel the loss. And the longing. No matter what happened, there was no hope of coming through this unscathed. So she did what made the least sense of all.
She kissed him.
FOR WANT OF A MAID
Robert had kissed women before, and he had thoroughly enjoyed it, but this kiss was different. While he was taking his time to explore just how different it was, she pulled away.
“What’s this? Tears?” He lowered his brow. “And what next, will you clout me?” He smiled.
She glanced at him then cast her eyes downward. “No.”
Robert’s smiled dissolved. “Violet?”
She gave her head a slight shake, and the words poured out. “I’m sorry. I thought I was ready, but I’m not.”
“Ready?” He wanted to say it was only a kiss, but he would have been lying. From the start, he had known that his feelings for her were different from any he had known.
As she turned away to wipe her tears, Violet assumed a practical tone. “Even if I were ready, I’ll be going home soon. There’s no point in complicating things.”
Robert nodded, but he did not agree. She might make sense, but what was life worth without risks? Even so, i
t was her choice to make, and she clearly had made it. So he wouldn’t argue the point. Besides, he had things to do. Feelings for her would just get in the way. “Very well. We'll not complicate things.”
Her eyes darted up to meet his, but she looked away quickly. “It's better this way.”
With a grunt of agreement, he got up and fetched a blanket for her. “Get some sleep.” He tossed the blanket beside her.
* * *
AFTER A MORNING of riding on horseback with Violet nestled in his arms, Robert decided he had exercised enough self-control for not only a monk, but he ought to be canonized a saint. He had not once given in to the urge to put his lips, or his hands, anywhere he could reach. But although his conduct had been saintly, his thoughts had not been. He was still a man, after all.
Robert broke a silence that had stretched on for miles. “We must buy you a horse in Edinburgh.”
“I can’t ride. I’ve told you that.”
“I could teach you.”
Violet’s voice sounded strained. “I don’t want to learn.”
“But why?”
“I fell once, okay? And that fall on the bridge didn’t help either.” She sounded as though she was losing her patience. “Look, this was all your idea. I didn’t want to come, so it’s really not fair to blame me for tagging along.”
That was the last thing on his mind. Robert’s eyes trailed down the soft slope of her neck to her shoulders, and he shook his head. Tantalus had nothing on him. Up ahead was a burn where they would stop to water his horse and put Robert anywhere but within reach of Violet.
Once they were stopped, he pulled out the last of the bannocks and offered them to her. When they were both finished eating, he went to his horse and returned with a bundle.
“Put this on.” He dropped it beside her then walked away, sounding gruff. “We’ll be arriving in Edinburgh this afternoon. You’ll need to be properly dressed.”