In the Kingdom's Name (Guardian of Scotland Book 2)

by Amy Jarecki

  Lord, the wind and rain cut to the bone. Droplets streamed from her hair and down her face as she regarded the giant gelding. Damn. She had to venture out one more time to pull the saddle, bridle and blanket off the beast.

  Once certain the horse was set, she found a bit of old timber and straw at the back of the lean-to, then fished the flint out of the leather purse William carried on his belt—the same one she’d given him in Renfrew.

  I can do this.

  She’d seen William, Robbie and a host of others start fires countless times. She found enough dried tow—plant fibers that would burn. She made two balls and placed one in the center of her makeshift fire pit, then made a nest out of the other and set it aside. Stacking dry twigs around the tow on the ground, until she had a three-quarter teepee like circle, she drew her eating knife from her sleeve and scraped the flint into the nest until a white dusting of powder covered the bottom.

  So far so good.

  Turning the flint over in her hand, she struck the serrated end into the powder until it sparked.

  Holding her breath, she waited while a tiny flame licked up.

  Yea!

  Carefully, she pushed the nest under the a-frame she’d built and prayed while smoke billowed around her.

  Come on.

  Bending her head down, she gave the base a wee blow.

  The fire crackled.

  Grasping more twigs, she carefully piled them around the growing flame.

  I am not helpless. Girls Scouts, here I come.

  Well, maybe Eva was too old to be a Scout, but this wee boon of accomplishment certainly helped to bolster her confidence, especially after a disastrous day.

  But there was still much to do. Their clothing was soaked clean through. She untied the oiled leather around William’s bedroll. At least the plaid inside was dry. She draped it over him.

  Removing her cloak and kirtle, she hung them over the only remaining rafter. Working in her shift, she found a handful of bully beef and oatcakes in William’s kit. It wouldn’t last long but if she rationed it, the food might see her through till he regained consciousness.

  The fire was a help, but without a door, and a gaping hole in half the roof, the cold still had Eva’s teeth chattering and her nose running. She glanced down. William’s teeth chattered too. Those wet clothes had to go before he caught pneumonia.

  Tugging off his hauberk took every shred of strength she could muster. William wasn’t only the size of an ox, his mail had to weigh eighty pounds. Grunting, she pulled and pulled until she had it halfway over his head. Bending over, she sucked in a few deep breaths. Then she crouched, gritted her teeth and finally yanked the heavy thing all the way off. Her fingers trembled as she removed his shoes, hose, chausses, quilted jerkin and shirt.

  “Ssss.” She examined the gash at his side. The bleeding had ebbed, but from the broken skin and purple bruise spreading across his entire flank, he’d received a good whack—probably would have killed him if he hadn’t been wearing his mail. Eva regarded her dirty hands and looked outside. If anything, the rain pelted harder as night turned the forest darker than soot. She wasn’t about to pick her way to the burn to wash.

  Instead, she gave them a good rub with a dollop of alcohol soap from her bag. Once clean, she pulled the tube of antibiotic ointment from her first aid kit. Using the tube to spread it over the wound, she applied a gauze bandage and stuck it in place with two Band Aids.

  She worked quickly to hang his clothing beside hers and then stoked the fire. The last thing she draped over the rafter was her wet shift. Wearing only her panties and bra, she slipped under the blanket and lay beside William, draping an arm and leg across him.

  Briskly rubbing his arms, she chuckled. “Don’t get the wrong idea here, big fella.”

  But honestly, she could think of no other way to stave off hypothermia. As she warmed his body, his also helped her shivers to subside.

  Not a suite at the Balmoral Hotel in Edinburgh, but her work would see them through the night. Nothing to make a girl tired like a brush with death and hours on the back of a horse fleeing for her life while her savior flopped unconsciously behind her.

  About to drop, Eva needed to sleep.

  But how could that happen when she was lying on top of the man she wanted with her very soul with only her panties and his braies separating them?

  He’ll be okay.

  She rested her head on his chest.

  And I think he warmed to the idea of going to Orkney.

  Her fingers slipped up and caressed the nape of his neck, sliding into thick tresses—so incredibly soft.

  Is it possible to break the only rule and change the future?

  She brushed his cheek with her lips.

  I damn well aim to try.

  ***

  Something weighed on William’s chest, something soft with a stirring fragrance. He moved his head, his nose lightly brushing silken tresses.

  Eva.

  With an arch of his brow, he opened one eye. “Mm.” He smoothed his fingertips over a bare shoulder. Then he peeked under the blanket. Holy Moses, she was all but naked, wearing nothing but her newfangled undergarments. Come to think of it, he was stripped down to his braies.

  Did we?

  Nay. I wouldna slept through that, even if I was half dead.

  Inhaling, he peered around them. Where were they? Wherever it was, their clothes hung from the rafter and beyond that, daylight shone through a gap. Beside them, warm coals glowed. The last thing he remembered, they were riding west.

  How did Eva manage to get me off my horse—moreover, remove my hauberk and clothes?

  He grinned. That would have been a sight not to miss.

  But he finally had the woman of his dreams sleeping in his arms. He rubbed his hands down her back.

  “Mm,” she purred, moving against him.

  Good God, his cock instantly sprang to life—shot up like a mast catching the wind. Bless it, her allure had driven him mad for the past sennight. Did she have any idea how utterly ravishing she appeared to a battle-weary warrior? Every night for the past eight years, he’d thought about how heavenly it would be to lose himself in her arms, melting into her feminine core. If only for a moment, sail with her to heaven and take his mind away from the world that had become his hell.

  With a low sigh, she rocked her hips ever so slightly.

  William’s heart nearly stopped. God save him, her every little move practically brought him undone. Hell, if he’d been standing, he’d be on his knees by now. He slid his hands down and cupped her buttocks—Jesu, his fingers sank into unbelievably supple flesh. “Eva,” he whispered as quietly as he could.

  Those delectable hips swirled in an even more provocative arc. “Mm.”

  He slipped his finger under the leg opening of those wee braies she called panties. Pillow soft skin met his rough pads. William’s breathing became shallow as he smoothed along the curve of her bottom until he met her core—hot, wet, molten. God’s teeth, she was ready for him. If he pulled the slip of fabric away, he could be inside her in the blink of an eye.

  He slipped his free hand between their bodies and released the cord tying his braies.

  Again she moaned and rocked her hips while he worked his finger, tantalizing the wee button he knew would drive her to the precipice of oblivion.

  With an easy lift of his hips, his bare cock slipped between her legs. Heaven help him, he was too close to resist her.

  Closing his eyes he kissed her forehead. “Eva?”

  “Mm.”

  “I want ye.”

  A pair of sleepy green eyes turned up to him—not dull green, but vivid, like spring leaves.

  William parted his lips as her mouth covered his. Lord save him, Eva’s entire body turned wicked, writhing, groping. Her mouth sucking, dictating a frenzied pace as she lifted her hips and let him tug off those damnable panties.

  Ah yes, she slid her moist center up and down his cock until it caught at her entranc
e. All the while her mouth explored his with the fervor of a skilled seductress—the wanton woman who’d oft brought him pleasure in the bedchamber had finally returned.

  With a wee chuckle that rolled through his chest, she took him inside. Gasping, William dug his fingers into her hips and slowed the pace. “I’ll spill if we go too fast.”

  She said nothing, but watched his eyes as she worked him with languid strokes, her lips red and swollen from kissing.

  “I love ye, mon amour.”

  A gasp caught in the back of her throat as she grinned and sped the rocking of her hips.

  He didn’t need to ask. She was close to her peak—as close as he.

  Thank the stars, ’cause he’d not last but a few more strokes.

  Her breathing came faster.

  A cry caught in his throat.

  As she arched up, William took her breast into his mouth as his seed burst forth in concert with her shuddering flesh.

  Taking in deep gasps, Eva held herself above him. “Did I hurt you?” she asked breathlessly.

  William couldn’t help but laugh, and by God, it felt good to do so. “Och, lassie, ye couldna hurt me if ye tried.”

  “Oh?” She cringed. “You might be a bit stiff when you try to sit up. Aside from the gash on your side, your horse spooked when a herd of deer darted out of here last night.”

  “Truth? The big fella spooked?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. Good Lord, she was too damned beautiful. “And while you fell on your back I crashed on top of you—could hardly believe you survived an Eva ‘dive bomb’.”

  He laughed out loud. Mother Mary, it felt good. “Och, ye make me smile on the inside.” How could he ache with his woman in his arms? Finally. Still, William moved his shoulders. Aye, he was sore, but he’d been hurting for years. What were a few more aches and pains to add to it?

  Her face grew suddenly serious as she cupped his cheek in her palm. “Oh how I love you, William.” The angel had spoken.

  He closed his eyes and let her words seep into his soul.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was amazing how rekindling their love affair had a way of shedding all of Eva’s anxiety. Eight years ago she’d been able to compartmentalize her fears and focus on the now. Thank God she’d rediscovered how to do that. If she’d known all she had to do was love him the way she’d done before, the way she’d longed to do ever since returning, she might have given in—gone with it rather than letting her mind run the gamut.

  This had to be the most glorious week of her life. Spent alone with William, the dirt and cold hardly bothered her. And a week away from his men with nothing on his mind except snaring a rabbit here and there eased his troubles like nothing else. His tension calmed further when she massaged his shoulders and more so when they made glorious love.

  If only they could hide there forever.

  But Eva didn’t compartmentalize her thoughts so much to be a fool.

  William came in from saddling the horse. “’Tis time to ride to Fail.”

  “The monastery?” she asked.

  “Aye. I’ll leave a message with the abbot for my men—tell them were to find us.”

  Us—she liked that he included her. “And where will that be?”

  “I’ve decided to have a word with Lord Bruce—as ye suggested.”

  “So, after Fail we’re heading to Galloway?”

  “Torwood.”

  Her spine straightened. “Why Torwood?” Oh, how exciting. She’d be able to see the castle as it was when the first tower was built.

  “Sir Alasdair is an ally for one—it will be neutral ground for our meeting. Not to mention, he commands a fleet of galleys.”

  She rolled her hand through the air. “Aaand you’re then planning on sailing somewhere after you talk to the Earl of Carrick?”

  “Not certain yet.” His shoulders hunched. “Your Orkney idea has merit.”

  Oh yes, yes, yes, if only it could be true. And Eva’s heart filled with too much excitement for it not to be. “It is colder up there.”

  “Aye. ’Twill turn a man into a warrior. Besides, we’re heading into spring.”

  She cringed. Time could stop marching ahead right now as far as she was concerned.

  But march ahead they must.

  The trip to Fail took far longer than she expected because they couldn’t ride on the main roads—which were more like tracks with two ruts carved by wagon wheels. The byways were not much more than game trails, winding their way through, up, and around Ayrshire’s rolling hills, which were a great deal more forested in medieval times than modern.

  At the monastery, William made quick work dispatching his missive for Robert Bruce and leaving word for his men. The abbot had said John Blair stopped by two days past and left word he’d return soon.

  They then headed north to Torwood. The going was slow at best, but Eva didn’t mind. Riding double with William, the warmth of his body protecting her back felt heavenly. She hardly noticed the ache in her thighs from hours in an unaccustomed saddle.

  After a cold night camping in a cave, it was a foggy morning when they approached the big castle. Good Lord, she expected it to be different but not this much so. Yes, the ruins she’d helped to restore had dated back to the fifteenth century, but the original fortification had been constructed in the twelfth. Made of stone, the donjon rose above the barmkin wall. She’d misjudged the height of the curtain wall—it had to be closer to fifty feet than thirty. The foreground of the fortress buzzed with activity. The clang of the blacksmith’s shack rang above lowing cattle, crowing roosters and a bevy of merchants selling their wares under flapping canvas tents.

  William slipped his hood low over his forehead and crouched above Eva, enveloping her in his arms. “Hunch down so we dunna look so large.”

  Neither one of them was small—or even average. She tried to play along, but trying to shrink could make them even more conspicuous to anyone who might really be looking.

  “I thought Forrester was an ally?” she asked. Regarding his dark stare beneath the wool made her flinch. The man could appear as menacing as the devil when he wanted.

  A guard stopped them at the gate. William pulled the medal of the Guardian from beneath his surcoat. The guard glanced up with a stunned expression. “Ye’ve business with Lord Forrester Sir Wal—?”

  “Indeed,” William cut him off. “And speak of this to no one.”

  The guard looked both ways, then leaned in. “Will there be another rising? ‘Cause if there is, I’ll take up my sword beside ye, sir.”

  “’Tis what I like to hear. I could use ten thousand men like ye, soldier.”

  “Scotland until Judgement,” the guard growled under his breath.

  “Can ye spirit us inside?” asked William.

  “Och aye.” The man latched on to their horse’s bridle. “Come.”

  He led them beneath the iron spikes of the portcullis and after tying William’s mount, they hastened into the great hall.

  “I’ll tell his lordship ye have arrived.”

  William bowed. “My thanks.”

  Turning to Eva, he gestured to a bench, but she walked into the middle of the hall, taking in every inch. The exposed beams supporting the ceiling were very similar to those that had been restored. But so much was different. Fine tapestries lined the walls depicting pastoral scenes of men and women tilling the fields with horses and oxen. She passed her fingers over the top of a table, roughhewn, made of solid, thick wood.

  All the tables and benches were well worn—used by the soldiers and common folk who supported his lordship, no doubt.

  “Is it much like the castle ye worked to restore?” William asked from behind.

  “Similar,” she whispered in awe.

  Eva looked to the dais—where she’d received an award only a few weeks ago. She’d got the placement right but this dais was so much more authentic. Who knew how many renovations had taken place in seven hundred years? High-backed chairs surroun
ded the oblong table, covered with a burgundy damask woven with gold thread. Along the far end, a sideboard displayed ornate silver goblets and plates—a testament to his lordship’s wealth.

  The guard returned with a woman dressed in servant’s garb—a blue gown and white linen apron. She stared at William with wide eyes as the soldier gestured toward the stairwell. “Sir Forrester is waiting in his solar. Tara will show the lady—um…”

  “Eva.”

  The guard cleared his throat. “Lady Eva to her chamber.”

  Eva’s knees could have given out. After sleeping in a cave or a decaying shieling since her arrival, a chamber sounded like pure luxury.

  William grasped her shoulder. “I shall see ye anon.”

  She curtseyed, then looked to Tara. “Thank you so much.”

  The lass regarded her, arching her eyebrows. “Where do ye hail from? I dunna recall hearing a burr such as yours afore.”

  Eva almost laughed. Goodness, she’d need to be more careful now they were surrounded by strangers. “My father took me on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.”

  “Oh my heavens.” The chambermaid patted her chest, then led Eva to the stairwell. “Is that where ye met Sir William?”

  Eva loved that he’d been knighted. It made absolutely no difference when they were alone together, but when around others, the title commanded the respect he deserved. “No.” She gave the lass a wink. “’Twas even more romantic than that.”

  “Ahhh,” Tara sighed. “Ye dunna say? Would ye mind telling a simple lass your tale?”

  “Tell you what. If you’ll arrange a bath for me, I’ll relay every last detail.” Auld Scots rolled off Eva’s tongue while she followed Tara up the winding stairs, chuckling all the way. She’d never forget how William rescued her from a battle with the English at Fail Monastery.

  They exited on the fifth landing. A sense of recognition prickled the back of Eva’s neck as they walked through the narrow passageway. When Tara opened the door and gestured inside, Eva snapped a hand over her mouth.

  It was her chamber—the bed with a red canopy—the round table with two chairs—the hearth—the narrow window. The likeness was eerily similar—too familiar. Would she time travel soon?