by Amy Jarecki
He raced for a riderless horse while the battle surged. A thug stepped into his path. With a kick up the backside, William sent the brigand face down to the dirt and surged forward. No time for decorum, he tossed Eva over the stallion’s neck and leapt aboard. Gathering the reins, he dug in his spurs and galloped for the shelter of dense forest.
***
Too frightened to worry about her stomach pounding against the horse’s withers, Eva gripped the girth strap and held on for dear life while her knuckles turned white. Her breaths came in gasping bursts. Branches slapped her face and legs as William raced for safety.
Stars darted through her vision before he tugged on the reins and pulled the horse to a stop.
“We’re out of danger for now.” William dismounted and helped Eva slide to her feet.
Her knees buckled and he gripped his fingers around her waist. “Steady, lass.”
She swiped trembling fingers across her face. “Oh God,” she shrieked. “They came from n-nowhere. One minute w-we were alone. And the next…”
“I ken.” He smoothed his palm over her hip where she’d fallen. “Are ye hurt?”
“I don’t think so.” Honestly, her entire body felt numb. “Maybe a bit bruised.” She shook so violently, her teeth chattered.
“There, there, mon amour.” William tucked a strand of hair under her veil and pulled her into his arms. “Ye’re safe now.”
Eva’s gaze darted to the path they’d taken. “What if they follow us?”
With a pat to his sword’s hilt, William’s eyes grew dark. “Then they’ll have five pounds of cold iron run through their bellies.”
Her stomach squelched. Nothing worse than nearly being raped and murdered to stir the fear in one’s blood. “How can you take it? Knowing you could be attacked at any moment? This is no way to live.”
He pulled her into his arms and clutched her head to his chest. “Och, ye could be attacked by brigands when lying in your bed. ’Tis no use cowering or hiding from them. The only way is to stand and fight. Show them we will not tolerate their brutality.”
“I was so afraid.” Gulping, she tried to still her unsteady breath. “I can’t fight off a whole band of outlaws. I don’t know the first thing about swinging one of those mammoth swords.”
He tightened his embrace, like forming a shield of iron around her. Lord, his strength felt so secure, she never wanted him to release her. “Och, Eva. Ye ken I’ll protect ye, no matter what.”
She buried her face against him and hid in the comfort of two arms hardened by years of training and battle. The reassurance William imparted calmed her thundering heart. But every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was blood and the face of that monster who pulled her from her horse.
“There, there, lass. ’Tis over now.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I could have killed a hundred brigands when I saw that bastard touch ye.”
A shudder rippled through Eva’s body. “I feel so safe with your arms around me. I want to stay like this forever.”
“Jesu, I hate thinking about leaving ye alone. I must ensure ye are safe behind the fortress walls of Dirleton Castle. There ye’ll have an army of men and six foot thick stone walls to protect ye from the vile swine.”
He dipped his chin and kissed her cheek, his gaze connecting with hers, binding them together. Warm breath caressed her face as his mouth parted. Those intense blue eyes watched her while he sealed his lips over hers, taking possession of her mouth. There, alone in the forest, their spirits joined—two souls drawn together regardless of impossible odds.
She squeezed her eyes closed and inhaled his spicy masculine scent. “Promise to hold me forever.” The words escaped Eva’s lips before she had a chance to catch herself. But she didn’t care. Not now. Not when her every nerve ending trembled.
“Ye have my sword, m’lady. On that I make my solemn vow.” He loosened his grasp and placed his large palm in the small of her back. “Now come. We must haste to Dirleton. I’ll cradle ye in my arms through the duration of our journey.”
She looked up to his stern countenance and grinned. “As long as I don’t have to ride face down draped across your horse’s withers.”
His eyes sparkled with warmth. “I have to admit there wasna verra much time to set ye to rights.” Then a deep chortle rumbled from his chest as a sly grin stretched his lips.
“What?”
He waggled his brows. “I rather enjoyed the view.”
Eva thwacked his shoulder. “Oh, please.”
With a shrug, he bent down to give her a leg up. “I canna help it if I’m a man.”
She bent her knee and allowed him to hoist her into the saddle. “Right, all men running for their lives gape at the woman’s butt in their face while they’re crashing through the forest.”
“Butt?”
“Bum, buttocks, rear end…whatever you want to call it.”
A subtle snort trumpeted through his nose. “Will ye never cease to come up with odd twists of phrase?”
“I suppose, but what do you expect? I’m called to the carpet for my odd speech all the time.”
He mounted behind her and situated the reins in his hands. “I reckon I like it. Every now and again, ye come at me with a word that almost makes me laugh.”
Shifting her hips to find a comfortable position, she asked, “Why almost?” Eva dearly loved to hear him laugh.
“I expect it hasna been easy to draw a laugh from me these past months.”
Nor will it. Again Eva shuddered. She hated knowing. Clenching her fists until her fingernails dug into her palms, she steeled her resolve. Live for the now, you dolt.
William nuzzled into her temple and slid one arm around her waist, drawing her snuggly against his chest. “Ye ken I’d die defending ye, mon amour.”
“And I promise there will never be a need for that.” No, no, no. I mustn’t ever again be the reason for William to fight.
She closed her eyes and with an exhale, forced herself to relax into him. God, to think she’d been yanked from her mount trying to get her old horse to move fast. Horses were so damned unpredictable. “I think I need horseback riding lessons.”
“Too right.” William’s belly shook with his chuckle—not a laugh, but close. “I kent ye were no horsewoman the first time I tossed ye on the back of my mount.”
“As I remember it, you accused me of knowing nothing about horses, though I’d never claimed to have ridden one.”
“No training at all?” His palm slid up and down her abdomen. “Ye mean even though your da’s a knight, ye were never taught how? Not even as a wee lassie?”
She’d told him about trains, but hadn’t come across the need to describe a car. “There was never an opportunity. In my time, we have motorcars—four wheels, an engine that burns fuel for energy to propel it forward. You know, a horse gets energy from eating grass, a fire gets energy from burning wood and oxygen.”
“Oxygen?”
“Air.” She wriggled against him. “If you snuff the air from a flame it will go out, right?”
“Aye.”
“Well, around the end of the nineteenth century, they learned how to make an engine that burns gasoline—a fuel like oil—and thrust a vehicle forward—sort of like a horseless wagon.”
William, being the inquisitive type had a gazillion questions about how a car operated and after explaining about roads, steering wheels and passenger seats, he finally stopped probing and let her continue.
“So, do you think I should try to ride a pony that isn’t an old nag like the gelding?” Eva asked. “Robbie’s good with horses. He could give me a few pointers.”
William gave her a squeeze. “Dunna ye want me to teach ye?”
“You’d be my preference.” Twisting, she regarded his face. “But when would you find time?”
“Dunna ken.” His mouth quirked. “Robbie’s my squire and I’ll have plenty for him to do as well.”
Eva huffed. “He’s only a lad. Have him
stay behind with me for a time. I worry about him being embroiled in the fighting.”
“Ye ken I wouldna let him near a battle.” William hummed in her ear. “Mayhap ye are right. The borders are no place for a lad of two and ten—and the older he grows, the more he needles me to let him fight.”
“I say wait for him to become a man first.” Eva raised her eyebrows and grinned. “What is it you say? Let his beard grow in?”
William affected a scowl. “He willna like it.”
“Who’s the boss of him? Hmm?”
“Och, ye ken he’ll do anything I say, but the lad’s got to learn to be a man one day.”
Eva crossed her arms. “And he cannot learn responsibility providing protection to me whilst you’re off invading England?”
“Let me think on it. But ye do need to learn better control of your mount. Had ye been faster, ye would have made it out of the skirmish right behind Sir Andrew.”
“Well then, it’s settled. I need speed-riding lessons.” Today’s brush with that vile beast pinning her to the ground and hiking up her skirts still rattled Eva’s nerves. She mightn’t be able to fight a man like that, but she certainly could learn to outrun him.
“Mark me, there’s nothing to replace instruction and practice.” With William’s slap of the reins, the horse transitioned to a trot. He always made it seem so easy.
“All right, so you’ll assign Robbie to the task as soon as we return?” Eva pressed.
William grumbled under his breath. “Ye have a way of bending my ear like no other woman I’ve ever met.”
“I’ll take that as agreement.” She smiled and allowed herself to relax against him. “How much further to Dirleton?”
“I reckon we’ll be there afore nightfall.”
“I think it’s safer to ride in small groups rather than in an army.”
“Oh do ye now?” His chest rumbled with another chuckle. “Next ye’ll be telling me how to stage my men on the battlefield.”
“I sincerely doubt that.”
“Good, then we ought to continue to be agreeable.”
“Oh, stop.” She tsked her tongue. “Do you know whose men attacked back there?”
“I have an inkling.”
“Aaaand?”
“They wore the crest of the Earl of March on their surcoats,” William growled.
“Cospatrick,” Eva whispered the earl’s surname.
“The bastard holds as much land south of the border as he does north. He’ll be kissing Edward’s arse until pigs sprout wings.”
Eva ran her fingers through the horse’s coarse mane. “What are you planning to do about him?”
“Mayhap I’ll pay the bastard a visit.”
Over her shoulder, she regarded the stubborn set to William’s jaw. “Just walk up to Dunbar Castle and request an audience?”
“And why not?” he asked, the glint in his eye growing more determined. “Parliament just voted me Guardian. ’Tis my duty to instill peace—at least on this side of the border.”
Chapter Four
A fog rolled in with dusk, making Dirleton Castle but a colossal grey outline on the horizon. With the mist came a brisk wind. And as they rode double, William hovered over Eva to keep her warm. He hated that he’d brought her into this war, but now he couldn’t imagine himself ever letting her go. In this world of violence and death, Eva had become the one person who grounded him—served as a constant reminder of his deep moral character.
Still, even with their bodies touching, her teeth chattered. “D-do you think the others have arrived?”
“Most likely. We took quite a circuitous detour.” Moving the reins to one hand, he rubbed the outside of her arm. “I’ll have ye to warmth in no time, mon amour.”
Turning her head, she nuzzled against his shoulder. “I like it when you speak French. How did you learn?”
“All monks must learn languages. Latin first, then French.”
“Why did you not whisper your endearment in Latin?”
“Och, lassie, French is the language of love.” The true reason was almost embarrassing to admit—even to Eva. “Latin? Well the holy word is written in Latin—’tis just not as romantic.”
When the horse’s hooves clomped on the wooden bridge, a sentry on the wall-walk waved a pennant above his head. “’Tis Wallace. Open the gates.”
As they trotted into the courtyard, Father John Blair, who William dubbed the Archangel of War, hastened to meet them. “Praise the good Lord ye are unharmed. When we arrived and ye werena here, we feared the worst.”
William reined the horse to a stop. “Ye think I can be taken down by a mob of bedraggled wastrels?” He snorted for added effect, though no one need mention their attackers were trained soldiers. They came too damned close to capturing Eva.
Spreading his palms to his sides, Blair shrugged and played along with William’s show of disregard. “Well, I didna want to believe it.”
“Have a wee bit of faith, father.” William helped Eva slide to her feet before he dismounted. “Come, we must convene. Call Sir Andrew and my lieutenants to the hall. We’ll talk whilst we sup.”
No sooner had William started toward the keep, when a group of merchants hastened his way. “Lord Guardian, may we have a word?” asked a sizable man dressed in woolen chausses, shirt and a tanned leather doublet showing considerable wear. He removed his merchant’s cap and bowed deeply.
Blair stepped between them. “Mr. Wallace can spare no time for idle chat. Be gone—”
William gripped the priest’s shoulder firmly and ushered him aside. “Pardon my chaplain’s fervor. I was forced to take a detour to the castle and he feared the worst.” Wallace extended his hand. “Please, friend. What troubles ye?”
“’Tis grave.” The merchant beckoned a group of similarly dressed men who looked no better than tinkers, the lot of them. “We canna sell our goods. All routes of trade outside of Scotland have been closed to us.”
Squinting, William regarded the other’s haggard miens. “What is the nature of your trade, may I ask?”
“Woolens and woven cloth,” said one.
“Grain,” said another.
“I trade in livestock—horses.” The first merchant pointed. “I import impressive mounts like that destrier ye rode in on in exchange for all manner of goods, sir. But no longer—I canna even make a wager for a nag.” He shook his head. “Longshanks has control of the ports. Only English goods are allowed on the ships.”
“And he has poisoned our reputation throughout Christendom.”
“All of Christendom?” William asked.
“Aye, Norway, Spain, The Holy Roman Empire, even France willna buy our goods.”
“Our families are starving,” said another.
William thrust his finger northward. “But what of the port at Dundee? We captured the town and the castle. Can ye not sail your ships from her port?”
“Sail, aye, but not trade.” The merchant wrung the cap in his hands. “As I said, the English have pushed us out. Our goods are banned and no one seems to have any coin to purchase them in Scotland.”
“Please,” the thinnest man pleaded. “We’ve nowhere to turn.”
“Of course.” William grasped the man’s arm and looked him in the eye. “I intended to summon the nobles to parliament within the month, but I see the situation is dire. Mark me, Scotland is a force to be reckoned with. As long as I am Guardian, I will see that all men have means to earn an honest living.” He looked to Blair. “Send missives to the barons at once. We will convene in a sennight.”
“A sennight?” asked the priest. “That does not give their lordships much time to prepare and many are still traveling home from Selkirk. They willna appreciate a summons so soon.”
“When the Kingdom is in such dire need? Are they not suffering from Longshanks’ skullduggery as well?” William jammed his fists into his hips. “Haste ye—a sennight.”
“Verra well.” Blair inclined his head toward the keep. “
But I’ll have a word with ye afore I put quill to vellum.”
Aye, the chaplain was a good man and confidant, but at times William wanted to give him a firm wallop upside the head. He bowed to the merchants. “I shall address this matter forthwith and will send emissaries abroad to reestablish routes of trade. Mark me.”
“Thank ye, m’lord,” they chorused, bowing deeply.
William hastened toward the keep with Blair on his heels. “Ye must not keep the people from me.”
“Aye? Ye thankless mule-brained hog. I was only looking after your welfare. When did ye last eat?” the chaplain demanded like an old hen.
William stopped and jabbed his finger into Blair’s shoulder. “My own comfort does not come before that of the sons and daughters of Scotland. Be ever mindful of that.”
Blair crossed his arms, his dark eyebrows slanting inward. “Believe me I am.”
“So why are ye standing here and not setting your quill to the missives I’ve prescribed?”
Blair glanced around them with a wary glint. “I didna want to ask in front of the crowd, for ye never ken what spies may be listening. But where do ye intend to hold your session of parliament?”
William pursed his lips. As always, his chaplain made a good point. ’Twas perilous to travel, even with a healthy retinue of armed men. Hell, they’d been ambushed this day, and by a Scottish nobleman’s army, no less. The situation was precarious, but one that must be dealt with firmly and soon. “We need a place of sanctuary. Not public. Where enemies canna dream of taking up their swords.”
“Hmm.” Blair scratched the shaved patch atop his head. “Perhaps a monastery. Melrose?”
William frowned. “Too big.”
“Fail?”
“Possibly.” With a squint of his eyes, William pondered. “The Trinitarian monks are too placid. We need a quiet fortress run by men who are bred to enforce order.”
“Aye,” Blair agreed. “The Templars?”
“Nay. Too many English in their ranks.” William would like nothing better than to align Scotland with the Templar Order, but that would take a great deal of time and negotiation—not to mention the risks of playing into Longshanks’ hands were too great.
