by Amy Jarecki
“’Tis good to hear. Mayhap if we can continue to drive away naysayers like the Earl of March, even grand families like Bruce and Comyn will stand behind our cause.”
“If they can curb their lust for the throne.” Home threw back his head with a belly laugh. “Ye mustn’t forget in twelve ninety-one Bishop Fraser asked Longshanks to choose between Balliol and Bruce—the two men with the greatest claim to the throne.”
William hated that Edward had been consulted, though at the time, the bishop thought he was acting to prevent a civil war. Little did the misguided holy man know, Longshanks would arrive and claim himself rightful suzerain. “’Tis not our place to decide who should have been crowned. Regardless, Edward has wrongfully imprisoned King John in the Tower. I intend to see his crown restored afore I take my last breath.”
“Here, here,” said Sir Geoffrey, raising his cup.
William eyed a thin sword resting atop the sideboard. “Do ye mind if I have a look at that?”
Sir Geoffrey twisted around and followed Wallace’s line of sight. “My mail piercer? Go right ahead.”
Pushing back his chair, William strode around the table and picked up the piece. “’Tis light of weight.”
“And square at the hilt.”
William touched the blade. It wasn’t sharp except for the deadly tip. “Did ye say mail piercing?”
“Aye. ’Tis from the Holy Land—bought it off a sea merchant. Its sole purpose is to pierce through a man’s hauberk straight through to the heart.”
William whipped it through the air with a hiss. “Would ye be willing to part with it?”
Sir Geoffrey crossed his arms thoughtfully. “Nay, but my smithy could fashion ye one if ye’re inclined to stay on a bit.”
“I could arrange for that.” William tested the tip with his finger. God’s teeth, it was sharp enough to lance straight through bone. “Besides, I’ve a parcel of missives to deliver to the surrounding clans.”
Chapter Six
“I think I’ll call this filly Ryn,” Eva said, posting up and down in time with the gait of the horse while she and Robbie trotted through the open lea outside the castle walls.
After a week of taking instructions from an adolescent boy and riding inside the courtyard, Eva finally felt comfortable enough to take Ryn on a real ride. In truth, she’d learned the basics on an old nag out of pure survival—hadn’t even let on that the only horse she’d ever ridden by herself was hot pink and part of a carousel at the county fair. Thrown on the back of the gelding, as the daughter of a knight, everyone had naturally assumed she could pick up the reins and launch into a canter. The only thing that had saved her neck was her ability to copy others. Eva probably wouldn’t have survived if her gelding had been as spirited as this mare, but fortunately the old fella didn’t like to move much. He’d just drop his head and trudge along behind the others. She’d been fine with him until a few days ago when she needed to flee from a mob of attacking outlaws.
A six-year-old mare felt completely different to the old guy. Ryn took off with the slightest tap of Eva’s heel and needed a firm rein. Over the past week, handling the mare became easier while Robbie continued to provide instruction, like keeping her heels down and relaxing her seat. She even began recognizing the horse’s body language. If Ryn carried her head high, she was more uptight. Pinning back the ears was a definite warning to any human or horse within ten feet.
“Ryn?” Robbie asked after a long pause. “What kind of name is that?”
Eva trotted the mare in a circle. “It’s the name of a minstrel I once knew.”
“Someone ye met on your travels to the Holy Land?” Robbie asked in an absent tone, as if not too terribly interested.
“Something like that.” Eva smiled. Ryn was the name of a new vocalist she’d heard on the radio not long before crashing through time and ending up in the midst of a battle in Fail Monastery. She’d experienced nothing quite as disconcerting as traversing seven hundred years in a matter of seconds. Naming her mare Ryn gave Eva a small sense of connection with her twenty-first century life. A time to which she must return one day. She’d given herself a year. A year to immerse herself in medieval Scotland and learn everything she could about William Wallace. A year to really discover what it was like to love him, adore him, be his woman.
Eva couldn’t allow herself to think beyond that. Yet five months of her year had already passed.
Two years?
Shaking her head, she refused to allow herself to consider it.
“Um…” Robbie slowed the pace to a walk. “Er…How would a lad my age go about talking to a lassie?”
Unable to stifle her grin, Eva managed to hold in her laugh. Most likely, it wasn’t easy for the twelve-year-old orphan to blurt out such a question. “Well, that depends,” Eva tried to keep her voice serious, clinical. “Is the lass old like me or about your age?”
Shrugging, he fiddled with his reins. “Close to my age, I’d reckon.”
“Hmm.” Eva gave the lad a sideways glance. His brow furrowed as if this topic were very important. “I think it’s best to keep things simple at first. Say hello—um—or good morrow. Mention the weather.”
Robbie scrunched his nose. “Weather?”
“Yes. Everyone talks about the weather.” Arriving at the edge of the forest, Eva reined her horse back toward Dirleton Castle. “You might think of questions you could ask her. If she was a serving girl, perhaps you could—”
“I didna say anything about her being a serving girl.” He gaped as if she’d dealt a personal affront.
Waving her hand apologetically, she explained, “I know. I was just using that as an example.” Eva cleared her throat and continued as if he hadn’t been bothered by the serving girl comment. “If she was, you could ask her about her tasks. What part of the castle does she work in, what are her main responsibilities, does she like it, does she ever have time to herself, do her parents work at the castle…You know, that sort of thing.”
He groaned and looked to the sky. “Och, ye make it sound so easy.”
“It is, really.” She let out a relieved breath. “I’ve never met a young lady who didn’t like talking about herself.”
Robbie grazed his bottom lip with his teeth, giving her a quizzical look. “So ye reckon a lad should just go up to a wee lassie, say good morrow and ask her what she’s on about?”
“Sort of.” Eva bit her lip. She knew enough about living in the Middle Ages to throw out a word of caution, especially since Robbie was an orphan with William overseeing his fostering. The newly appointed Guardian had more on his plate than any army general and Eva wondered if he’d paid much notice to the lad in the past month. “Of course, if she’s a highborn lass, you would need a proper introduction. You might ask someone like Lady Christina to introduce you, for example. Then, once you are on speaking terms, it would be all right to ask questions.”
The lad’s eyebrows shot up as if he liked her idea. “An introduction, aye?”
“That would be proper, but regardless, you should speak to the lass where others can see you, so as not to sully her reputation.”
Robbie turned as red as a harvest sunset. “I wouldna want to do that.”
“I’m certain you wouldn’t. It is always important to be considerate of a young lady’s standing. You must understand how devastating it would be for a lass to be compromised in the eyes of society, and it is up to young men like you to protect and honor her virtue.” Eva sat a bit straighter in the saddle. Had William been so busy he’d overlooked the need for such important discussions? “You must act chivalrously. Do you know what that means, Robbie?”
The growing boy puffed out his adolescent chest and thumped it with pride. “Och aye, Miss Eva. ’Tis my duty to protect womenfolk and to fight for right.”
“Mm hmm. And more.” Eva definitely must have a word with William about this conversation. “Do you know many court dances? Dancing is an essential social skill at court and at gatherings.�
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Robbie’s shoulders shrugged to his ears. “How am I supposed to learn about dancing when I’m serving as squire to the Guardian of Scotland?”
Eva shook her riding crop at him. “That makes it even more important—and we mustn’t forget that you are the son of a knight, a lad who owns property.” And a man who will become a titled baron in his own right.
“Aye, but who will teach me?” Robbie gave her a stern frown. “Not ye I’d wager. Ye dunna even ken how to dance. I saw ye at Peebles Castle and reckon ye need lessons more than I do.”
Covering her mouth with her hand, she let out a belly laugh. Oh, for the love of God, she’d hoped her skirts had hidden her stumbling feet. “True,” she admitted. “Perhaps we both need lessons. Let me give that some thought.” Eva slowed her mare and looked to the donjon looming above the bailey walls. Could she ask Lady Christina to help? But how long…?
Eva blocked the thought from her mind.
Robbie obviously considered their discussion over, because without another word, he spurred his horse into a fast gallop—a gait Eva doubted she’d ever be able to master. Alas, she did miss driving her red Fiat at seventy miles per hour on the motorway—though less and less as time passed.
Picking up her reins, she sighed and headed toward the gate. The mare hadn’t traversed but a few paces when the ram’s horn sounded from the wall-walk above. Blinking, Eva nearly jumped out of her skin. Robbie immediately changed course and hollered, waving his hand over his head while grinning like it was Christmas.
Catching sight of the garrison approaching through the trees, Eva’s stomach erupted with butterflies. William!
She cued her horse for a canter while the little show-off rode in beside William with animated welcoming gestures. And what a sight the big man made, sitting his horse with a commanding presence as if he were born to the guardianship. If she hadn’t known him, Eva would have guessed him to be as regal as a king. While he led the garrison along the path to the gates, he looked her way and gave her a firm nod.
She pulled her horse to a stop. There had always been an unspoken code of respectful distance between them when in public—gatherings and celebrations aside. Even when William carried out his duties as leader of the rebellion, and now Guardian of Scotland, she kept her distance and minded her affairs. But at night, William was hers. Fortunately, with the sun low in the western sky, she wouldn’t have long to wait.
***
After leaving her horse with the groom, Eva headed to her chamber to dress for the evening meal. Now they were no longer living in a cave, she’d fallen right in to living the comfortable life of a highborn woman. William had even appointed her with a chambermaid, Madeline, who greeted Eva as soon as she stepped inside. “How was the riding, Miss Eva?”
The words “awesome” and “brilliant” came to the tip of her tongue, but Eva knew better. “Quite invigorating.” She twirled inside and tossed her circlet on the bed. “Do you ride?”
“Och, whenever there’s a need, I suppose.” The chambermaid strode to the bed and picked up Eva’s discarded headpiece. “I dunna travel overmuch.”
Eva combed her fingers through her growing red hair, though it was still too short for a medieval lady. “Were you born here?”
“Aye, and my parents as well.” Madeline gestured to the walls. “Everything we need is right here in Haddington.”
“Have you ever been to Edinburgh or a city?”
“Oh no.” Madeline stepped into the garderobe and retrieved a blue gown.
Eva untied the front lace of her kirtle. “Would you like to go sometime?”
“Never really thought about it.” The chambermaid stopped and looked down with a furrow to her brow. “Wouldna it be dangerous?”
“Perhaps not if traveling to Edinburgh when riding with a fortified garrison. And riding a horse, it wouldn’t take long. If you left at dawn you’d be there in time to take your nooning.” Goodness, Eva had improved at communicating in Auld Scots. Professor Tennant, the archaeologist who’d given her the medallion, would be impressed.
Madeline drew a hand to her chest. “No longer than that? I never realized we were so close.”
“Would you like to see the city?” Eva shrugged out of her kirtle and let it drop to the floor. It always felt as if she could float after removing the heavy woolen day gown and shaking out her shift.
“Oh no, I couldna leave Dirleton.” She skittered backward as if terrified of the idea.
“I suppose you’d need an adventuresome spirit.” With a sigh, Eva tapped her fingers to her lips. “There’s far more to life than what lies in this castle.”
“Mayhap to ye. Ye’re William Wallace’s woman, and ye’ve traveled all of Christendom. But the mere thought of venturing away from my home scares me to my verra bones. What of outlaws and tinkers and all manner of ill-reputed folk the father preaches about during Sunday mass?”
“Yes, the world can be a dangerous place, though I doubt it is as bad as the priest makes it out to be—especially if you have a proper escort.” Eva rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Recently, she’d been giving too much advice. Servants didn’t just pick up and take a day trip to a big city. A stroll into the village of Haddington would have been a major deal to Madeline.
“Och, ye dunna need to be filling my head with fanciful dreams of travel. I’m a servant’s daughter. No use dreaming where I’ve no business sticking my nose.”
Dumbfounded, Eva stared at the wall for a moment. My, how different their lives are. A servant who refused to allow herself to dream about traveling twenty miles?
The door creaked open and William poked his head inside. “Do ye have a moment?”
Madeline darted in front of Eva and held up the gown to cover her as if she were naked and not wearing a shift tied at the neck, draping all the way to her toes. “I’ll have Miss Eva presentable in no time.”
He craned his neck, peering around the tiny chambermaid. “Verra well. I shall wait in the passageway, then.”
“For crying out loud.” Eva marched to the garderobe and donned a dressing gown. Was she the only person at Dirleton Castle who didn’t see a need to pretend she and William weren’t sleeping together? “Please excuse us, Madeline.”
Holding out the gown the chambermaid shook her head defiantly. “But—”
“Just leave it. I’m sure I can manage this once.”
“Aye, miss.” After carefully draping the gown over a chair, Madeline curtseyed then slipped past William and out the door.
Once they were alone, all he had to do was grin.
Swarms of butterflies attacked her stomach as Eva flew into his open arms. “Can you believe it? I stayed behind for an entire fortnight and nothing bad happened. I wasn’t kidnapped. There was no attempt on my life.”
They both shook with the force of his laugh while he lifted her and spun in a circle. “And ye didna don men’s clothing and try to come after me.”
Her toes touched the floor. “Right. You did have to bring that up.” When he’d found her at Fail Monastery, she’d been dressed in jeans and a month later, when he tried to break up with her and leave her at the same monastery, she’d put on a monk’s habit and had gone after him—which didn’t work out well for her at all. She coyly twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “But I promised not to try anything rash as long as you vowed to return.”
“Mm hmm.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “I missed ye.” Lordy, he could melt marzipan with that sexy Scottish burr.
With a dip of his chin, he brushed a kiss across her mouth. Hot tingles spread down her back. Eva moved closer and pressed her body flush with his toned, muscular form. If they hadn’t been born so many centuries apart, she could have believed they were made for each other, fitting together perfectly as if molded from the same clay. Closing her eyes, she drank him in, allowing her senses to take over. Hot, spicy male kissed and held her in a tender embrace with arms that could crush a man, let alone her fine bones. Yet he cradled her with
incredible tenderness.
Pressing friction made her breasts swell and ache with pent up desire she hadn’t even been aware she’d suppressed. The forceful demand of his mouth filled her with spiraling pleasure. Rubbing from side to side, her nipples hardened and her need for him grew like an addict’s craving. She dug her fingers into his back muscles, needing to savor him. Oh no, no opportunity to hold him in her arms, memorize every curve of his flesh, could be allowed to pass.
Eva’s limited time was too precious.
William’s body responded in kind, his erection hardened against her mons as his hips swirled in a seductive rhythm.
Taking a breath to clear her swooning head, Eva arched her hips firmly against his as she smoothed her fingers through his wiry red beard. It had grown during the fortnight of his absence. “I missed you every waking moment. I don’t like it when you’re gone.”
He placed a gentle kiss upon her forehead. “But ye ken I’ve no choice. ’Tis why…”
She nodded her understanding as his voice trailed off. It was why they lived in the moment—why they refused to make promises to each other—the reason she couldn’t sleep at night when he lay beside her.
She halted her wandering thoughts and smiled. “Did you see me riding Ryn?”
His expression brightened. “Ye’ve given the mare a name?”
“Aye, and why not? I like her.”
Brushing her hair away from her face, his eyes twinkled tawny from the candlelight—sexier than sin. “I suppose there’s no harm in it. I named my first horse.”
She trailed her finger from his collar down to the laces of his shirt where a tuft of chest hair teased her. “What happened to him?”
“He grew old.” After another kiss, William lifted Eva in his arms and carried her to the bed. “But I dunna want to think on it now.”
Oh, how she loved that he could whisk her off her feet like she was a petite young thing. Not only was she tall, Eva had never been a string-bean either. Her curves rivaled Beyoncé.