Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1) (22 page)

“Not to worry, lass. I’ll set ye to rights.” Somehow, people always grew nicer after they learned about her past—either factual or fabricated. If only she could just tell everyone the truth.

He glanced down and sucked in a gasp. “What is that ye have on your feet?”

Eva tapped her toes together. “They’re hiking boots.”

“While I’m finishing this, ye’d best go next door to the cobbler and put in an order for a pair of proper shoes like those on my shelf.” He pointed over his shoulder to a pair of dainty slippers that looked more like they belonged in a production of Swan Lake.

Eva tucked her feet beneath her wooden chair. “These boots serve me well, thank you.”

Mr. Tailor grumbled under his breath and continued to furiously whip stitches.

Training her gaze upward, she spotted a man’s leather hip purse hanging above the slippers. “Would you be able to make something for William?”

“Of course, as long as ye dunna need it today.”

“I’ve a canister of salt. Would that pay for a leather purse?”

He looked up. “How much salt?”

Eva squinted. “A pound.”

“That is quite a lot.”

“Aye.”

He whipped a half-dozen more stitches. “Well then, I’ll throw in a linen shift for ye as well.”

She clapped her hands. “Oh my, that would be wonderful. Thank you.”

When Eva left the man’s shop, she wore a new burgundy damask gown complete with matching veil and snood. He’d even had a polished copper mirror for her to assess his handiwork. Indeed, she looked quite the medieval lady. She’d also requested he craft at least one kirtle for riding that didn’t drag on the ground when she walked. How women in this century kept their dresses from caking with mud or horse manure, Eva couldn’t surmise.

As she bid the tailor good day, she felt sort of like she’d spent the day in an upmarket dress shop, being primed and measured for her every whim. And it thrilled her to no end to be able to have a change of clothes.
How such small things seem huge when forced to go without
.

Across the courtyard, William faced her. Eva startled. After spending the entire day with a tailor a good head shorter, William Wallace took her breath away. Not only was his hair combed away from his face, he wore a shiny, black leather jerkin over a pair of black chausses that made him look as devilish as a pirate.

“My, you are a handsome man, William Wallace.” She strode up to him and waggled her shoulders in tandem with her eyebrows. “Were you able to speak with Lord Stewart?”

“Aye, half a day ago. What have ye been up to in there, weaving the cloth?”

She chuckled. “Indeed. I never thought that sadist tailor would unpin me.”

He stepped back and raked his gaze from her head to toe. “Well, if this is the result of his efforts, I heartily approve.”

She held out the skirt. “You mean this old thing?”

His mouth twisted.

Rapping him on the arm she simpered, “He insisted I have a fine damask gown in line with my station. When I told him I needed something practical for riding a horse, I thought he might whip me with his tape measure.”

“I dunna see why. My mother wears day gowns and her father was a knight.”

“Honestly? You didn’t tell me that.” Eva blinked. “Anyway, he found a length of blue wool for the kirtle. He’s also planning to make a mantle and I’ll be ever so grateful for a new shift.”

William grasped her elbow and led her toward the keep. “Sounds as if he’ll have ye clothed right proper.”

“Yes, and thank you.” She strolled beside him. “At least stays aren’t in fashion yet. I’d die if I had to wear one of those contraptions every day.”

“Stays?”

“Oh yes, at first they had wooden slats, and later whale bones and women cinched them around their ribs and waist to make them look smaller.” Eva shuddered. “They’re torture devices that make it hard to breathe.”

William looked to the skies. “That seems complete gibberish to me. I canna see any woman putting up with torture simply to look bonny.”

Eva stopped gave him an incredulous stare. “You didn’t have any sisters did you?”

“Thank the good Lord for such mercies.”

She held up a finger. “Never underestimate how much a woman will be willing to suffer to be beautiful.”

He blessed her with a knee-melting grin. “Well, ye’re the bonniest lassie I’ve ever seen, and it doesna look as if ye’re suffering overmuch.”

“Thank you, and you should smile more. It makes butterflies flit around in my stomach.”

He gave her a squeeze. “’Tis good to hear I’m not the only one around these parts with those fluffy-feathered vermin ticking my insides.”

Giggling, Eva slipped her fingers over her mouth. William hadn’t complimented her often. Their attraction had been powerful—carnal, but he kept his opinions to himself. She liked that she had a visceral effect on him and he thought her beautiful, but it made her nervous at the same time.

He is an attractive man, so why should I be uptight?
She bit her nail and regarded him. Yes indeed, he could charm every maiden’s heart in the county.
Okay, I’m not bothered at all
.

Eva gestured toward the keep. “I hope you are taking me to a place where there’s food, because I’m starving.”

“Ye’re in luck. Lord Stewart has invited us to dine at the high table this eve.”

“Us?”

“I told him ye were under my protection.”

Eva’s stomach flipped. “You mean a feast in a great hall with the High Steward of Scotland?”
If only I had a video camera. Linsey and Chrissy would totally die from envy.

“I thought ye’d be pleased.”

Her mind snapped to her bag. “Do I have time to freshen up?”

“Ye spent the entire day with the tailor, how much more primping do ye need?”

“I could use a bit of makeup on my face—perhaps some rouge?”

“What the hell is that?” He pinched her cheeks. “Ye look fine.”

“Right.” He could repeat that a hundred times and she wouldn’t believe him. “Red eyelashes and all.”

William’s tongue tapped his top lip and his eyelids dipped. “The red adds to your character.”

“’Tis a very good thing you continually make those butterflies squirm or else I’d not believe you one bit.” She gestured toward the keep. “Lead on, Mr. Wallace. After all, it’s not often a girl has the opportunity to meet the High Steward of Scotland and dine at the high table in the year of our Lord twelve ninety-seven.” The way her insides bubbled, she felt as if she’d imbibed in a glass of wine—though she was stone cold sober.

Eva had toured the great hall at Edinburgh Castle when she visited with her family before they moved to America. Even at the age of fifteen, the enormity of the hall had impressed her. Though it had appeared more like a museum with swords and poleaxes on display, as well as coats of armor adorning either side of the marble hearth. She chuckled. The very great hall she’d seen at Edinburgh Castle hadn’t even been built yet—not for another two hundred years or so, if her memory served her correctly.

This evening when she stepped into the hall of James Stewart, High Steward of Scotland, she reached down and pinched her thigh through her skirts just to ensure she was lucid. Tables and benches filled the room, packed full of people. Overpowering smells of humanity mixed with welcomed aromas of baking bread and roasting meat. The men outnumbered the women about five to one, which made sense, given Lord Stewart’s large army.

Eva leaned into William. “Where are your men eating?”

“They’ve fashioned a spit and encampment just beyond the Renfrew walls.”

“So it’s just us receiving the royal treatment this eve?”

“Aye.”

“No wonder you look so dashing.”

William grinned and led her toward the dais.

Covered with rich tapestries, the walls absorbed some of the sound echoing off the stone floor. Above, candelabras supported countless candles, all flickering in harmony. As they approached the dais, the sound of minstrels playing a flute and lute up on the gallery became clearer.

Now this is more in line with what I imagined living in the thirteenth century would be like
.

Ahead on the dais, the lord and lady were unmistakable. They sat in the center of the table as they presided over the throng, sipping from golden goblets and dressed in rich velvets in line with their station.

Eva looked to the side. The people sitting in the main part of the hall drank from pewter tankards. And the further away from the dais they sat, the more bedraggled their appearance. Truly, the scene established the social pecking order of the Middle Ages. But the disparity between classes did nothing to quell the exuberance in the hall as these medieval folk made merry, laughing and talking above each other. Eva couldn’t make out a word.

Her palms began to perspire as William led her up the three steps to the dais. When he bowed, she dipped into a curtsey, hoping she didn’t appear too awkward.

“Lord and Lady Stewart, may I introduce Miss Eva MacKay. She has fallen victim to King Edward’s severity as have so many in these trying times,” William said, obviously curbing his passionate dislike for England’s king.

Lord Stewart spread his palms before him. “Welcome, Miss Eva. It is our pleasure to have ye share our table this eve.”

“Thank you.” She again curtseyed, though not as deeply this time.

“James tells me you are the daughter of a knight,” said Lady Stewart. “Pray what was he called?”

Eva gulped and glanced up at William who arched his eyebrow, giving her no encouragement whatsoever. “Sir David MacKay,” she said with conviction.

Lord Stewart stroked his pointed beard. “I do not recall a knight named thus.”

She hated being called to the carpet.
Dammit
. “Do you know every knight dispatched to the Holy Land, m’lord?”

He used his pinky finger to dab the whiskers at the corner of his mouth. “Most, I’d say.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Eva feigned a dismayed grimace. “Then I have no answer for your lack of recall.”
Perhaps I should have told William my father was a Norwegian knight. Had I only the forethought. But then again, that would have been a lie and I hate lies.

Lady Stewart reached for her goblet, jostling the silk wimple that covered every last strand of her hair. “I recall a knight named MacKay. Hmm. Ever so long ago.”

“Then if ye recall him, it must be thus.” Lord Stewart patted his wife’s hand. “Regardless, Miss Eva, if ye are an ally to Mr. Wallace, then I welcome ye to my table.”

Eva bowed her head. “Most gracious of your lordship.”

William led her to a pair of seats toward the far end of the table. As soon as they sat, a servant placed goblets of wine in front of them. Everything was so new, but archaic. Eva ran her finger around her empty pewter plate, thinking how excited the dig team would be to unearth one of them.

Lord Stewart clapped his hands. “Let the feast begin.”

At once, servants laden with trays of food paraded through great double doors and up to the dais. The smells made Eva’s mouth water. She leaned aside while a servant placed a trencher of roasted meat in front of her—three whole chickens, two legs of lamb and another fowl. She looked up at the man. “Is that duck?”

“Nay, ’tis swan.”

Eva looked at William and cringed. “How can anyone eat a swan?” she whispered under her breath.

He reached out with his eating knife and sliced off a piece. “Eat it. ’Tis tasty.”

She should have kept her mouth shut, but she clipped off a piece with her teeth and swirled it in her mouth. After all, as the daughter of an ambassador, her parents served all manner of food depending on the guests. Eva thought she was rather diverse because she’d eaten emu—a bird no one from Scotland had even seen yet. When hit with a combination of mutton and fish, she swallowed the swan meat and washed it down with her wine.

“Did ye like it?” William asked.

Eva pointed to the tray. “I think I’d prefer a bit of chicken, thank you.”

Chuckling, William held up an eating knife with a bone handle, sheathed in an ornately hammered leather scabbard. “This is for ye. I’m tired of lending ye mine.”

“For me?”

He smiled as if very pleased. “Aye.”

Accepting the gift, she turned it over in her palm. “Oh my, this is exquisite.” Without a moment’s hesitation, she pulled out the blade and examined it. Oddly, the sharpened steel gave her no tremors at all, and the handle molded to her fingers like an expensive steak knife.
Perhaps being surrounded by knives is the therapy I needed after all
. “Thank—” Her voice caught and she drew in a breath. “Thank you. I shall cherish it.”

William beamed. “I thought ye’d like it.” The candlelight flickered in his eyes and he stared at her as if there were no other people surrounding them.

She liked it when he looked at her like that. Probably liked it too much. Glancing down, Eva rolled the blade between her fingertips. “This is almost too nice to use for eating.”

William reached for a loaf of bread and broke it. “What else would ye do with a wee blade such as that?”

“Good point. I guess I have no china cabinet in which to display it.” She plucked a portion of bread from his grasp with the knife. “You were very thoughtful to think of me. I don’t know how to thank you for all you’ve done—new clothes and now this.”

“’Tis nothing.” He gave her a wink. “Besides, I couldna let my woman traipse across the country dressed like a serving maid.”

Eva’s heart caught in her throat. Yes, he just called her his woman, and oh, did she relish the idea. Since arriving in the thirteenth century, she’d mostly been living in a cave. Worries about her attire had been miniscule compared to everything else. But now she would be out in the public, riding with William Wallace and his growing band of rebels.
Please, Lord, do not let me do anything that will send me back. Not now
. She glanced at William.
Not for a very long time
.

Presented with more food than at a presidential banquet, Eva ate until she couldn’t swallow another bite. Even the apple tart was delicious.

A servant stopped by her shoulder, holding a ewer. “More wine, miss?”

“No. I’ve had quite enough, thank you.”

William held up his goblet. “I’ll have more and her share as well.”

“Aren’t you gorged to your teeth?” she asked.

“Me?” He took a healthy sip of wine. “Never, and when prosperity presents itself, a man learns to take advantage and store up as much food as possible.”

She chuckled. “I wish it worked that way, but I know I’ll be hungry come morn.”

He poked her waist. “Aye, but if ye had a wee bit of fat on your bones, ye might not fall to hunger sickness so quickly.”

Eva folded her hands and nodded. How different the medieval mind when it came to food—and health. Though without a grocery store nearby, she might do well to gorge herself at every opportunity.

On the gallery, a drummer and a piper joined the minstrels.

William clapped his hands. “Do ye fancy a dance, Miss Eva?”

“No, no.” She shook her palms. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”
Nothing like the Cupid Shuffle, I’m sure.

Lord Stewart leaned forward and regarded her. “I would assume a daughter of a knight would be well versed in all manner of dancing.”

A Norwegian peasant would have been a preferable occupation for my father
. Eva feigned a smile. “It has been ever so long.”

Sitting erect, Lady Stewart clapped her hands together. “If not dancing, are you skilled in any of the other finer arts?”

Eva started to shake her head, but William placed his big palm on her shoulder. “Miss Eva sings like a meadowlark.”

She kicked him under the table.

He knit his brows and gave her a dark frown.

“Honestly?” Lady Stewart looked like she’d just slipped a Godiva Chocolate in her mouth. “You must sing for us.”

Leaning toward William’s ear, Eva considered kicking him a lot harder. “The minstrels won’t know my song.”

“Please do entertain my guests,” Lord Stewart said, gesturing toward the center of the dais.

William squeezed her arm. “Ye cannot refuse,” he whispered.

Eva stood, giving a timid wave to the minstrels. “I’ll be but a moment.”

They bowed.

She gagged like her mouth had suddenly filled with cotton. There was no use trying to give medieval musicians a key. She’d just sing
You Raise Me Up
and slink back to her chair. Hopefully the song would buy her the pardon she needed to avoid dances with intricate steps she’d never seen before.

***

William sat back and closed his eyes. He could listen to Eva sing all night. Once she opened her mouth, the entire hall fell silent, and now her voice rang out even clearer than it had in the cave.

If only he’d met her at a different time—a time when he could make a firm commitment and pledge his love. True, the lass continued to be a quandary, insisting on traveling with him. He should ask Lady Stewart if she needed a lady’s maid, though Eva had repeated she had no interest in staying behind.

She was so different, so independent, yet needy in some ways. She was intelligent, yet lacked sensibility when it came to the most elemental of practicalities.

By her education and manners, she obviously grew up in a knight’s home. But she cannot ride a horse, and claims that she does not dance—that is truly puzzling
.
She writes endlessly, though her penmanship is quadratic and full of words I can only surmise as Pagan. For all that is holy, I dare not let Blair lay eyes on any of her writings. His distrust of the lass would be compounded tenfold.

William opened his eyes and watched her while his heart swelled. A woman any man would be proud to have on his arm, he’d put her oddities out of his mind and simply accept her. She’d said more than once she wanted nothing from him that he couldn’t give. For a rebel, Eva MacKay made an ideal companion.

But why do I feel guilty?

He had no answers for his internal strife, but deigned to hold on to two things. Eva was welcome to remain beside him as long as she wanted and he would put no harness upon her. William could not pledge marriage and she did not desire such a pledge. Regardless of her mysterious past, he trusted the lass almost as much as he trusted Blair—the only thing that kept him from trusting her fully were those damned trinkets in her satchel and the sorcery she’d shown him. The only option to forget about what he’d seen was to block it from his mind.

But how long will she stay?

William pushed his doubts aside as Eva finished her song to a rousing applause. Bloody oath, the woman amazed him.

Lord Stewart clapped louder than anyone in the hall. “My word, William, ye were not jesting when ye said she could sing.”

He bowed his head in gratitude as Eva returned to her seat. “Well done.” He grasped her hand. “Your singing brings me joy.”

Smiling, she squeezed his fingers. “Thank you.”

The drum rasped from the gallery and William pulled Eva to a stand. “But now we must dance.”

Shaking her head she gasped. “I don’t know how,” she groused in a strained whisper.

Lord Stewart clapped his hands. “What’s this ye say? A knight’s daughter truly does not know how to dance? Preposterous.”

William pulled her behind him. “Miss Eva—”

“Apologies my lord.” She twisted her wrist from his grasp and faced his lordship. “I am able to dance, ’tis just I’m afraid I have not been taught the local dances. My father took me away from Scotland at a very young age.”