by Amy Jarecki
She leaned close enough for her warm breath to caress William’s ear. “I’d like that very much.”
Gooseflesh rose across his arms. Jesu, so would I.
Since the first time they’d made love, they hadn’t talked about taking precautions. It seemed of no consequence before, but now he wondered. “Are ye able to have them?” he asked in a whisper.
“Have what?”
He clutched her arm and pulled her onto his lap. “Bairns.”
Green eyes opened wide. Her mouth formed a perfect “O”. “Ah…I think so.”
“What is it that prevents ye from conceiving? We’ve been together often enough, I would think…”
A rosy blush spread across her cheeks—och aye, he adored how easily she could redden. “Um…I used to have an IUD in my uterus—ah—my womb. It’s a device that prevents pregnancy. But five or so years ago, I had it removed.”
“Why?”
She rubbed her palm over her belly. “It’s not healthy to leave them in forever.”
William’s tongue tied, but there should be no secrets between them. “Did ye plan to have children?” he managed hoarsely.
“No.” She fiddled with his daisy necklace. “After you I…”
“What?” He tilted up her face with the crook of his finger.
Gazing upon him with half cast lids, her pink tongue slipped to the corner of her mouth. “I didn’t want anyone else.”
His heart not only thundered in his chest, it swelled and made him want to roar. God, how he loved her. “Och, Eva, I love ye with all my heart.” He drew his arms around her and squeezed. Soft breasts molded into his chest, pebbled by two of the most alluring tips he’d ever felt in his life. “I only wish we’d have met in your time rather than mine.”
“Wouldn’t that have been a boon? You could have found your own seal.” Leaning forward, she nibbled his neck as she rocked her hips against his growing erection.
His chuckled came out deep, filled with desire. “Ye mean that lump of rust ye showed me in your shiny black box?”
“The very same. It’s on display at the National Museum of Scotland.”
He blew out a guffaw. “Unbelievable.” He captured her mouth with his lips, kissing her with long, languid swirls of his tongue. He tugged the neckline of her bodice down until he exposed her nipple. “I dunna want to think of things to come right now.” Cupping her luscious breast, he teased her until she arched her back and moaned with ecstasy, grinding her hips against him. He adored how his woman could show her ardor, how she could growl and moan with unabashed passion and take him to heights he’d never dreamed possible.
With a wee giggle, she lifted her skirts and straddled him. “Make love to me here while the cool breeze tickles our skin.”
William glanced back toward the monastery. Sitting against the embankment, they were well hidden. He chuckled and loosened his chausses and braies.
Lithe fingers surrounded him—knew exactly what he liked as Eva stroked.
Shuddering, William’s eyes rolled back as she took charge and she lowered herself over him. Cupping his hands around her buttocks, together they began a slow rhythm while the breeze tantalized their flesh and the surf sang a rolling song of love.
Together their bodies rocked as one while the gnawing problems of the Kingdom faded into oblivion. Her lips parted as her breathing sped. A spike of desire shot through the tip of his cock, but Eva controlled the pace, gradually increasing while she clung to him for dear life.
A cry caught in the back of her throat—a wee sound that sent him over the edge of no return. With three deep thrusts, together they peaked with a rush of shudders that wracked his body and soul.
A warm glow spread through his insides as Eva nuzzled into his neck and plied him with fluttering kisses.
But all too soon, she looked beyond his shoulder and frowned. Then she shifted her hips aside. “I think you’re needed.”
Retying his braies and chausses, he glanced back as well.
“William,” Robbie called, approaching at a run. “A galley of recruits has arrived—say they have a missive from the Earl of Carrick.”
He gave Eva a peck on the cheek. “Ye see? We canna hide from our accountabilities.”
“Well, go on, then.” She gave him a playful shove. “I’ll stay here for a while longer and keep the seals company.”
The tightness in her chest returned while Eva watched William’s retreating form as he walked beside the younger man. Her husband had a slight hitch to his step and he carried his lion-mangled shoulder a bit higher than the other. Doubtless he needed this time of respite. If only he wouldn’t be so anxious to return to the battlefield. Irrespective, she’d keep working on him—wearing him down. His numbers weren’t growing as fast as he liked, and that fact might make him stay put through the end of summer—as long as men continued to show up.
What does the missive from the earl contain? She’d find out tonight. Hopefully it would be like the others, introducing the conscripts who’d sailed from Ayr—or wherever.
A seal barked from the shore. Eva diverted her attention to the pod. An infant nuzzled his mother, looking for milk, no doubt.
She slipped a hand to her flat belly and rubbed. Pregnancy? Honestly, with her gift of blocking things from her mind, she hadn’t thought about the possibility of conceiving. Her period was a little late, but that wasn’t usual.
Heat spread throughout her chest. What if she did end up pregnant? No one needed to tell her about the mortality rate of having a baby in medieval Scotland.
Shuddering, she rubbed her stomach again. I need to start taking precautions.
But what if she did conceive? What a blessing to have William’s child—and at thirty-five, her maternal clock was ticking.
No. Not now. After August, yes. Not until.
***
Once he received dismal news from the Earl of Carrick who was unable to recruit anywhere near the numbers they needed, it was William’s idea for Eva to sail for Moray Firth and Ormonde Castle with John Blair.
“Ye’ve been wound tighter than a snare since we set sail,” Father Blair said stepping up to the side of the hull beside Eva.
She regarded his gaunt visage—even the friar looked worried. “I need your help.”
He let out a rueful chuckle. “What can I possibly do to help ye, m’lady?”
“We must ensure William stays on Eynhallow through the end of August at least.”
“That long?” He placed his hands on the rail. “I’d hoped the troops would be ready to march by then.”
“They won’t,” Eva said a little too quickly. “Um…I mean, I doubt you’ll have the numbers.”
Blair regarded her with pursed lips. “Why do I sense there is something ye’re not telling me?”
She grabbed his woolen sleeve in her hand and squeezed. “Because it is far too awful to discuss. Can you not go along with me on this one thing? William needs to stay on that bloody island though August, and it’s up to us to keep him there. Do you understand?”
The priest grumbled under his breath.
“Please.” Eva tried the emotional tact—perhaps the friar had a heart. “If you love William, you’ll do as I ask.”
Blair looked to the shore with a huff. “Verra well. I’ll go along with ye this once.” He pointed. “But first ’tis up to ye to solicit the lady’s assistance. If ye fail, William willna listen to either of us.”
A chill of dread spread across her shoulders as the galley approached the grey fortress looming over the north shore. Pushing her palms against her face, she feared what they might encounter. The castle had been attacked by the English in 1303 for the sole purpose of capturing Andrew Murray’s five-year-old son, named for his father. Lady Christina remained there, living under house arrest. Whatever that meant, Eva was sure to find out soon.
Nonetheless, her visit must be a success. Eva would do anything to ensure William stayed in Orkney at least until autumn and if Lady Christina cou
ld help rally soldiers and send them to Eynhallow, history just might be changed.
Last time it was easier not to think of things to come—years would pass and she’d had no intention of staying on. But this time things were so different, so much more dire.
Stop thinking about it!
Eva set her sights on the heavily-armed soldiers marching onto the shore.
“State your business afore ye drop that anchor,” bellowed an officious looking man-at-arms.
Eva opened her mouth to speak, but Blair pushed in front of her. “Lady Eva MacKay from Edinburgh accompanied by her chaplain, Father John.” He bowed. “My lady wishes to visit the Lady Christina to offer prayers for the safe return of her young son.”
Eva clasped her hands and demurely smiled. It was proper for Blair to make the introductions. The soldier gave her a once-over, then turned and looked to the top of the outer bailey walls. Through a crenel notch, Eva spotted a woman in the shadows, wearing a black veil. She gave a subtle nod and then disappeared.
Recognition needled at Eva’s nape. Surely the woman was Christina Murray.
“Very well,” the man-at-arms said to Blair. “Follow me.”
Covered with moss and vine, the castle looked as if it needed a bit of maintenance. Eva shouldn’t be surprised. These were difficult times, made more perilous by the English occupation.
They proceeded under the iron-toothed portcullis and into a courtyard. Footsteps pattered toward them until Lady Christina stepped into the light, breathing deeply, wearing a black gown and veil. Her cheeks flushed, there was a strained sadness in her smile as she held out her hands. “Eva, how wonderful to see ye after all these years.”
Clasping the offered palms, Eva grinned. “Oh my, it is ever so good to see you. We have much to discuss.”
The lady’s gaze trailed to Blair. “I’ve see you’ve brought Father—”
“John.” Eva gave a wink. They couldn’t chance repeating his last name, lest a spy catch wind of it.
“Ah yes.” Christina greeted the priest with a curtsey. “And how have ye been, father?”
“Well, thank ye. My lady is ever so anxious to gain an audience with ye. I do hope our presence brings no intrusion.”
“Of course not.” Turning, she led them into the hall. “I am not allowed beyond these castle walls and callers have grown fewer in the past two years.”
Eva pursed her lips against her urge to reassure the widow about her son. Instead, she looked to the stairwell. “Is there a chamber above stairs where we ladies might take refreshment in solitude?”
“Indeed.” Lady Christina glanced upward. “We can retire to the ladies’ solar.”
After directing the priest to the chapel, the two women shut themselves inside a small chamber filled with a large table and overstuffed chairs, made warm by a brazier of burning peat in the hearth.
Christina poured goblets of watered wine before she sat. Her eyes and cheeks sunken like a cadaver, unfortunately the years hadn’t been kind. “William never did tell me what happened that day.”
Eva swirled the ruby liquid in her goblet. She didn’t have to ask for clarification. The lady referred to Eva’s sudden disappearance as Andrew Murray lay dying. She’d hoped to avoid such a question. “I was called away.”
“Oh?” Christina brushed her hands over her gown, high color spreading across her face. “To where? Was there something more important than my husband’s life?”
“No.” There wasn’t and Eva couldn’t bring herself to lie. “I had no control over my destiny.”
“Ye say that as if ye are the archangel of God,” the lady said with a snort.
“I definitely am no angel of any sort…but sometimes I must do things I’d rather not.”
Christina batted her hand through the air. “Who doesna in these trying times?”
“’Tis something that haunts me even now.” Eva pressed her palm against her forehead. “I tried to help and my efforts completely failed.”
“Everyone’s efforts failed.” Christina looked up with an unconvincing smile. “Even the almighty Wallace couldna save him.”
With a wee sigh, Eva sipped her wine. “You did birth a healthy son.”
“Aye, named him for his father.” She placed her elbows on the table and covered her face in her palms, her shoulders shaking. “And now King Edward has taken him from me.”
The strain in Christina’s voice pulled at Eva’s heart. Why did there have to be so much suffering? She reached out and smoothed her fingers along the lady’s forearm while a tear streamed from her eye. “You will have your son returned.”
“How should ye ken? It has been two years. He’s just a wee lad with no father. He needs his ma.” Removing a kerchief from her sleeve, she blotted her face.
“That he does, but he will not forget you—his time in captivity will only serve to strengthen his love of Scotland—and for you.”
“How…?” Christina dropped her hands to the table and regarded Eva through swollen, red eyes. But then she leaned forward, her visage hopeful. “That’s right. Ye are a seer.”
Dragging her gaze aside, Eva nodded. That’s what William had told everyone ever so long ago, but she’d use it to her advantage now. “Do you recall I told you the bairn inside you would be a lad?”
“Aye. I haven’t forgotten to this day.”
“Then you can believe me when I say your son will be returned to you on twenty-fourth June, the year of our Lord thirteen-fourteen.” The medallion warmed against Eva’s skin—but she could not worry about the damned thing now. She knew the date well because young Andrew Murray’s release from the Tower of London would be part of the negotiation Robert the Bruce would undertake after his success at Bannockburn.
Lady Christina drew a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. “So long? Why, at six and ten he’ll nearly be a man by then. He willna even recognize me.”
“A boy always recognizes his mother.” Eva leaned in, painfully aware she would probably be better off if the medallion took her away right now. “He will remember and cherish you.”
“If only…”
“Your son will rise to greatness, come into more lands and title.”
Her ladyship’s eyes narrowed. “Ye’re certain of this?”
“More sure of his future than I am of what will happen on the morrow.”
“Oh, thanks be to God.” Lady Christina took hold of the cross covering her heart. “They are treating him well? He willna suffer whilst in Edward’s clutches in London?”
“He will be looked after and receive an education.” Eva hoped—all she knew was that the boy would be one of the prisoners exchanged at Bannockburn.
“Goodness, I cannot tell ye how much such news lightens my heart. Though…” A tear escaped her eye. “’Tis so very long to wait to see him again.”
“I can only imagine your suffering.”
“And ye? Have ye children?”
“I’m afraid not, though William and I did exchange vows at long last.”
“’Tis good to hear.” Christina dabbed her eyes with a kerchief. “And how is Sir William? Well I hope?”
“Reasonably so. He is plagued by injuries—not nearly as agile as he once was.”
“Unfortunately, war has a way of making young men old far before their time.”
“Very true.” The medallion cooled. Darn it. But Eva had a new goal in mind and she’d need all the help she could find. “William is on the Isle of Eynhallow up north in the Orkneys and I’m frightened to my very bones.”
The woman narrowed her gaze, her teeth grazing her bottom lip. “Ye ken something, do ye not?”
The damn medallion heated up again. “Aye. I’ve had a vision that frightens me to the tips of my toes.”
“About William?”
Gulping, Eva nodded. “I must find a way to make him remain in the Orkneys through the end of summer. But he needs men. He’s trying to build an army whilst in hiding.”
“Och, even
William Wallace has resorted to hiding.”
“No. It’s not what you think. If no sightings are reported for a few months, he’s hoping King Edward will end his raids. But William is anxious to return to the Lowlands and renew the fight.” Her throat constricted as thoughts of the near future burst to the forefront of her mind. “I must ensure he stays in Eynhallow.”
“And he doesna think he can build an army in exile?”
“Exactly. If word of his whereabouts leaks out, it’s over.” Her voice trembled. God she was on the edge of a breakdown. “Can you help? Can you send loyal Scottish soldiers north?”
Christina shook her head. “I am but a prisoner in my own home. The sheriff has spies watching my every movement.”
Eva couldn’t give up. No, this mission must be successful—for her and for William. She gulped down her urge to cry. “Do you know of a loyal soldier—someone who can move through the Highlands without suspicion?”
Standing, the lady crossed her arms and paced. “All of Scotland is afraid. It could take years to rebuild the forces which William and Andrew pulled together in mere sennights before Stirling. My heavens, a man can have his throat cut for the slightest trifle.”
Eva stood and grasped her friend’s hands. “How can we continue to live like this?”
“I, too, am under scrutiny.” Christina took in an enormous breath. “If I agree to help ye, and the sheriff discovers me, they’ll put my son under the knife for certain.”
“Please.” Eva clenched her hands tighter. “Of course you must exercise all care, but anything you can do to send loyal Scottish troops to William will be an immense help.”
Christina pulled away and faced the fire.
“Will you help us?” Eva asked, pressing praying fingers to her lips.
“Aye. I ken of a Highlander who’ll bear your message—but he willna have any clue it came from me. I’ve far too much at stake.”
“Thank you.”
The lady held up a finger. “My runner will bear word as if directly from William. I’ve no idea if anyone will come forward. Even in the Highlands, people are being forced into submission. If the clans do nothing, they can live in relative peace—if they take up arms, they will face the ire of Longshanks for certain.”
