by Amy Jarecki
He set her down with her feet dangling. “I brought ye something.”
“A present?” Eva’s heart fluttered. Though she never expected anything from William, from time to time he surprised her. She looked between his empty palms, biting her bottom lip. “What is it?”
With a devilish grin, he drew a weapon from his belt. It was long like an arming sword, but needle-thin and squared near the hilt.
She eyed it. “Is that a sword?”
He presented it atop his upturned palms. “Aye, ’tis made for piercing mail.”
Not wanting to touch it, Eva rubbed the outside of her arms. “For me?” In truth, she hated all sharp objects, though she’d grown a bit desensitized of late. Hell’s bells, everyone around her carried knives hidden up every sleeve and inside every sock.
William sat beside her. “Come, lass. Ye canna turn your back on the realities of the times forever. I promise when I’m away I’ll assign ye a guard, but I’d be a damned sight relieved if ye’d accept my gift.”
She reached across and brushed her trembling fingers over the icy hilt. “The craftsmanship is marvelous.” Smooth as a brass doorknob, the pommel sparkled with the flickering light.
He grinned and held it up. “’Twas made by the smithy at Cocksburnpath Tower.” Taking her hand, he closed his fingers around hers until she firmly grasped the hilt. “I’ll teach ye to wield it.”
She bit her bottom lip and tried not to shudder. “If you think it’s necessary. I wouldn’t want to carry something like this without some training. You know they say if you carry a weapon it can be used against you.”
William rested the sword across the bedside table. “Do they now?”
“Yes.”
“Well, whoever they are hasna met the likes of me.” He waggled his brows with a playful glint dancing in his eyes. Then he brushed his fingers across her cheek. “And I doubt they’ve met a woman with as determined a spirit as ye, mon amour. Ye have more fight in your heart than half the zealots in my ranks.”
She leaned into his warm palm and closed her eyes. “I wish that were true, but I’m really as skittish as a finch.”
“I think ye have the good sense to flee….but ye ken that is not always possible.” The tip of his tongue snuck to the corner of his mouth while he tugged on her robe’s sash. He spread open the red wool revealing her shift and cupped her breast as if he were holding a dove. “I’ve something more urgent to attend, if it pleases my lady.”
Such simple words had a way of turning his lady’s knees to wobbling jelly. Who could refuse such a chivalrous offer? William Wallace could ignite a raging fire in Eva’s belly with merely a half-cast stare and a wee touch. She arched into his palm. “Mm. This lady most certainly would enjoy being pleasured by you, sir.”
He let out a feral rumble. “But first I need to see ye bare.” He pulled her to her feet and pushed the robe completely from her shoulders, sending it to a heap around her ankles. His lips curled up in a wicked grin as he grasped her shift and drew it over her head, leaving her standing in the only “modern” clothes she refused to part with.
With a chuckle he traced his finger over the mounds of her breasts swelling above her bra. “Do ye ken how much I like your newfangled undergarments?”
“Yes.” She inclined her head back and closed her eyes while goosebumps rose across her flesh. “I’m glad you like them.”
His hand slid to her back. “They make the prize all the more sweet, but I must admit I prefer it even better once I’ve removed them.” With a flick of his fingers the elastic relaxed and he cast the bra aside like an expert. Next, he slid her panties down. With her legs slightly parted, Eva stood prone to him, every nerve ending alive, anticipating his next move as she kept her eyes closed.
His deep moan resounded through the chamber. “Your scent is more intoxicating than a vat of honeysuckle wine.”
A warm hand brushed her pubic hair ever so slightly, tempting her before his fingers skimmed to her waist. Hot moisture covered her nipple as his tongue teased it to a wickedly hard point.
Opening her eyes, Eva placed her palm in the center of William’s chest. “You’re next.” With her wee push, he obliged her and sat on the edge of the bed. Kneeling, she untied his shoes and removed his hose. When she stood, William had already untied the lace of the arming doublet he wore atop his shirt. Eva held up her finger. “Tsk, tsk. You don’t want to spoil my fun do you?”
He shrugged out of the doublet with a look of defiance. “It canna hurt to help a bit.”
“Come here.” She pulled him up by the cord of his chausses. Fingers working quickly, she untied them and his braies, and let them drop to the floor. Then, with a sultry giggle, she slowly tugged the tie on his linen shirt, staring at his eyes while she tortured him, pulling oh so very slowly. “This bit of linen is all that’s left between us, William.”
He growled through straight white teeth. “And it will be torn to shreds if ye dunna haste to rip it from my torrid flesh.”
Laughing, Eva grasped the hem and tugged the shirt as high as she could until William yanked it off the rest of the way. Casting the shirt aside, he gazed upon her with an intense, predatory glint in his eyes. He placed his warm palms on her waist and moaned. Lord, merely the sound of his voice could stir her desire into a frenzy.
As if she were no heavier than a kitten, he tossed her onto the bed. The feather mattress molded around her ever so soothingly, but Eva wasn’t about to let him take complete charge. Licking her lips with a purr of her own, she took hold of his hands and pulled him over her. God, he was so hard, with one thrust of his hips she’d have him inside.
But that wouldn’t do at all. She wanted to draw it out. Savor him until they both lingered upon the ragged edge of ecstasy.
He pinned her wrists to the bed, hovering just above her, but not touching. “I like your spirit.” Dipping his hips, his erection teased her mons. “Ye are the perfect woman for me, Eva. Ye’re built like a fine-boned filly, yet ye’re not so petite a big stallion the likes of me would crush ye.”
She winked. “There is nothing small about me.”
“I wouldna say that.” He trailed kisses along her throat and moved downward. “Ye’re lithe and long and…mm…ever so desirable.”
Goosebumps rose across Eva’s skin. She arched into him as the swirl of his tongue over her nipples ignited a raging fire deep inside her. Rocking her hips in time with his delectable licks, her need mounted like the onset of a raging tempest.
William’s crystal blue eyes regarded her as he slowly moved his mouth down to her navel. Swirling warmth filled her core. “Your skin is like spun silk, m’lady.” He uttered these words while urging her legs further open with his shoulders. “But your taste is like ambrosia from the gods—sent to tempt a man and send him to the edge of utter madness.”
“Utter pleasure,” Eva moaned as his tongue lapped her. Filling her fists with the bedclothes, she closed her eyes and gave in to pure euphoria. A man of many talents, William’s tongue was more talented than his sword. Humming into her, he intuitively knew exactly how much friction she needed—she craved—oh, God, how she craved him.
When her thighs began to tremble with the onset of her peak, Eva opened her eyes and forced herself to rise up slightly. She reached down and mussed his hair. “Now you.”
William wiped his arm across his mouth and regarded her with eyes that could turn iron molten. “Ye are a vixen.”
She managed a hoarse chuckle. “Why is it that we vixens are so desirable to men?”
“’Cause their wiles are irresistible. Just like ye are, m’lady.”
Rising to her knees, Eva grasped his shoulders and coaxed him down to the pillows. She traced her finger around his erect nipples, completely aware of the other erect part of his body demanding her attention.
For the love of God, he was magnificent to gaze upon—and so very much more. Though married once, Eva had never connected with anyone remotely similar to William before. Su
ch a powerful presence, commanding, intelligent, brilliance at its best. What he was doing with her, she couldn’t fathom. If only she could put him on a pedestal to worship and admire through all eternity.
A more virile man did not exist.
With a lick of her tongue across his nipple, he arched into her. “Merciful father, your every touch sends my heart thrumming into a tumult of desire.”
And by her life, he always found the most perfectly charming words. Merely the sound of his voice was an elixir to her confused and shattered soul. She couldn’t think about the consequences because loving William Wallace gave her strength, made her life worth living again.
With every inhale, Eva craved him more of him. The spiciness of his scent, the downy auburn curls splayed across his powerful chest. She wanted all of him, the emotional, intellectual, and above all, the physical. She trailed her lips down the center of his chest, swirling her tongue, delighting in his every satisfied sigh.
Lovingly, she prolonged the journey until she nuzzled into his erection. With a low chuckle, she licked his length.
“Almighty stars,” he moaned.
Taking his enormous size into her mouth, Eva’s own need heightened as she led him to the very edge of climax.
Eva rose up and savored the sight of him, rigid as a poleaxe. His chest heaving, his lids half-cast and his lips slightly parted, William gazed at her with a fervent stare. The corners of his lips turned up and he placed his enormous hands on her hips. “I swear, woman, ye’re on a crusade to drive me to the limits of my verra sanity,” his low burr rumbled.
Giggling, she straddled him and took him deep inside her core, sliding ever so slowly until he touched her womb. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, her voice every bit as husky as his.
Gazing into each other’s eyes they rode the wave of passion, delighting in every thrust, every swirl of hips, until glorious release claimed their minds and souls and left them panting in each other’s arms.
Chapter Seven
“Order,” William bellowed, rapping the pommel of his dirk on the board. He needed to take control of this session of parliament before the nobles came to blows. Bless it, the lot of them were more barbaric than commoners for certain. “Ye can settle your petty differences outside this meeting. We’ve a great many matters to discuss, the first being the return of King John.”
Torphichen Preceptory became suddenly quiet, a great feat considering that even the slightest whisper resonated over the vaulted ceilings of the hall. Though many nobles had ignored his summons, half the gentry stared at him as if he were daft—especially John Comyn. William had no doubt the Earl of Badenoch coveted the throne for himself. And Wallace would do what he must to ensure that man remembered his place.
“We’ve received no response to our demands for his release,” said Sir Andrew, his “s” trailing off with a wheezing cough.
“Balliol will never again set foot in Scotland. He abdicated for Christ’s sake,” said Comyn with a dismissive bat of his hand.
William smoothed his palm over the dirk sheathed at his hip. “Ye’re wrong. The king resigned his crown to protect Scotland from entering a war we couldna win—”
“Aye, and see where that got him,” said Sir Douglas.
“Ye’re the one who lost us Berwick,” snapped Comyn.
Douglas shoved back his chair. Standing, he drew his dirk. “I did what I must in order to live to fight the English another day.” He pointed the weapon across the table directly at the Earl of Badenoch. “’Tis more than I can say for ye—why are ye here and not kissing Longshanks’ arse?”
“Enough,” William bellowed and thrust his finger at Douglas. “Sheathe your weapon unless ye want to spend a sennight in the dungeon.” He eyed each man. “And that goes for the lot of ye. When parliament is assembled ye’ll cast your miserable clan feuds aside.”
“Edward will never respond. If ye’re intent on bringing the king back from the Tower, ye’ll need a miracle.” Robert Bruce spoke up for the first time since he’d entered the hall. At three and twenty, the young earl had held his tongue on the few occasions William had seen him—a fact which had made Wallace question the earl’s fealty. Another noble with lands on both sides of the border, no one knew where the Bruce Clan’s loyalties lay.
William met the Bruce’s stare. “Have ye a direct line to the Holy Father, m’lord? ’Cause I’d not be above calling upon him to unleash a miracle or two on our behalf.”
“Blasphemy!” Comyn shouted.
“The Lord is on our side,” said Sir Andrew with a bolder tone than he’d managed of late. “Scotland is ours. By the grace of God, we took back Stirling when no one thought it possible.”
Lord Stewart rapped the table twice. “Here, here. But I say we must rid all our castles of English overlords afore we set plans to negotiate for the release of King John.”
“Negotiate?” William asked with a snort.
“Lord Stewart is right,” Bruce said. “Too many lives would be lost if we attacked. No one can breech the Tower of London—not even the likes of ye, Wallace.”
“True. We’d be slitting our own throats,” John Comyn said far too eagerly.
William looked to the arches of the barrel-vaulted ceiling while voices rose. Everyone had an opinion, yet not a one of them could agree on a course of action. Seething, heat flared up his neck while the earls and barons posture for their own personal gain. “Enough,” he finally thundered loud enough to bring down the preceptory’s stone walls. “If ye’ve nothing further to say on the matter, as Commanders of the Army, Sir Andrew and I have agreed on a course of action.” William wasn’t about to provide details of their plans to a gathering of men who could turn backstabbers without a lick of remorse. “If King Edward willna respond to our requests, then we shall make known our wishes by other means.”
The hall again erupted with taunts and shouts. Bloody hell. How in God’s name can anything be accomplished with these men? He sliced his hand through the air. “Our next order of business is resuming trade throughout Christendom.”
Though not without banter, that topic proceeded a bit smoother with Hay and Ramsay agreeing to be emissaries and carry William’s missives across the channel. At least the nobles with holdings solely in Scotland supported the restoration of trade, though it didn’t pass William’s notice that Lord Bruce again remained quiet.
William was about to call an end to the day’s session when Sir Andrew stood, his brow glistening with a sheen of sweat, the poor blighter. “There is one more article of business I would discuss which I havena mentioned to Mr. Wallace.”
William’s eyebrows shot up. Since they’d joined their forces, there had been no secrets between them.
Andrew faced him and bowed. “I act only in your interest, my friend.”
William rolled his hand through the air. “Then I bid ye continue.”
“As ye all are aware, William Wallace has risked life and limb for this, our Kingdom of Scotland. He has ignored his calling to become a priest. He has taken up arms and put himself in harm’s way so that each and every one of ye can retain your lands and live in peace.”
Comyn leaned back and crossed his arms with a blast of air out his nose.
Andrew arched an eyebrow at the earl. “I speak true, m’lord. William Wallace doesna have the luxury of crossing the border and pretending he’s not a part of this war. He’s a man of the people—loved by the people and I believe ’tis time we knighted him—gave him the title he deserves.”
Silence filled the chamber until Lord Bruce raised his cup. “Here, here. We’ve made Wallace our Guardian. He should be knighted and granted lands.”
William blinked. Had he heard Robert Bruce correctly? What did the earl have to gain from such a statement?
Nothing, I’d wager.
Another pause permeated the hall until the High Steward stood. “Agreed. Sir Murray is right. We should have knighted Wallace on the day he was made Guardian. ’Tis an oversight
that we must remedy immediately.”
Comyn’s mouth formed a thin line, though he chose to say nothing.
“I’ve a deed drawn for four hundred acres and a castle in Ayrshire near Kilmarnock if all are in agreement.” Andrew might be suffering from his battle wounds, but on this account, he surely had been most dutiful. “All in favor?”
“Aye!” The word echoed off the walls and swirled around the hall.
“Opposed?”
John Comyn threw his gloves on the board and shook his head.
“’Tis settled.” Ignoring the earl, Andrew looked to Lord Stewart. “Will ye do the honors this eve, m’lord?”
“It would be my pleasure. Let all in attendance witness William’s knighthood.”
“My thanks. Ye honor me and I will endeavor to continue to act in your service.” William stood and bowed, his lips quivering a bit. When the day began, he feared every man in the hall stood against him bar Andrew, and now there had not been one “nay” uttered to oppose his knighthood—though he doubted the Earl of Badenoch had hollered an “aye”.
Truth be told, the vote of confidence given by the nobles did much to ease William’s misgivings about spending the duration of the sennight in their midst. There still were a great many matters to be discussed and they hadn’t yet heard petitions from the floor.
After dismissing the day’s session, he slipped out the side door to find Eva. True, he did not covet a title and lands—did not expect it. But as a Guardian of Scotland, he’d be a fool to refuse the honor, for a title would carry much weight among the gentry—something that had hindered him on many occasions in the past.
***
Eva’s heart leapt when William relayed the news in their rooms at the inn. She’d been fairly certain it would happen soon. Though the history books hadn’t recorded the date he was knighted, it was clear that at some point soon after William was made Guardian, he also received a title—something he never would have bestowed upon himself.