Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1) (5 page)

Eva bit her bottom lip. “Must have lost it.”

The lad pulled a blade from his sleeve, tugged off the leather sheath and held it out. “Use mine. We can see about finding ye one on the morrow.”

Her fingers trembled when she took the knife. With a wooden handle, a double sided blade, and a little larger than the steak knives she had in storage, it could have passed for tableware at an upscale restaurant.
At least it has no resemblance to a Bowie knife
.

Eva shuddered.

“Are ye ill or something?”

“No, just not fond of knives.”

The boy shook his cap of sandy hair. Jeez, he was adorable with dark blue eyes and a splay of freckles across his nose. “My oath, the more ye talk, the odder ye become. A man’s good as dead if he doesn’t carry a few blades on his person.”

Eva cut off a piece of venison and popped it into her mouth. “Mm.” The first full bite of food she’d had since breakfast sent her taste buds into overdrive, even without seasoning. She gave the lad a once-over. “You seem awfully young to be hanging with this band of renegades. Why aren’t you home with your parents?”

“Ma died giving me birth. And King Edward…” Robbie spat as if he’d uttered a curse. “…well, he hung my da when he refused to pledge fealty.”

“God.” Eva gulped against her thickening throat. “You poor boy.”

The lad’s bottom lip jutted out as he kicked at a rock with the tip of his boot. “Ye asked why I’m not sitting in front of my da’s hearth. This war has made a lot of orphans—not just me.”

Swirling a bit of the bitter ale in in her mouth to wash down her revulsion, Eva fixated on cutting another piece of meat. What could she do to help this lad? Living in a cave with a mob of heathens was definitely no place for him.

“Besides, I’m two and ten.” He puffed out his chest. “Almost a man.”

“I’ll say.” Eva smiled and mussed his hair. “You’ve no choice but to be.” She shoved a bite in her mouth.
Maybe I should take him with me to find a town?

Across the coals, the priest with the glaring eyes watched her, fingering a dirk tucked inside his rope belt. She pointed. “Who’s the friar talking to William?”

“Father John Blair?” Robbie asked.

Eva stopped mid-chew. Was it a coincidence?
So many familiar names
. “Just a minute. What is your full name, Robbie?”

The lad thumped his chest. “I’m Robert Dominus Boyd, squire to William Wallace, leader of the resistance—but dunna tell a soul. This is a secret army. Not even Willy’s uncle kens about us.”

“Holy shit.” The knife slipped from her grasp while her stomach flipped.

“Pardon?” The boy’s mouth twisted.

Eva cleared her throat and clutched at her pounding heart. “Is William’s uncle Reginald Crawford?”

“Aye, Sheriff of Ayr.” Robbie ran his thumb over the pommel of his dirk and narrowed his eyes. “Ye’re not an English spy are ye?”

If she said yes, she had no doubt the lad would kill her without an iota of remorse. “No.” Eva watched the boy’s hand as she made a pretense of calmly taking a sip of ale. “Just a las—uh—lad who’s lost his way.”

Robbie moved his hand and smoothed his fingers along the fur beneath him. “Ye sure do talk peculiar.”

“Aye? Well, my father was an ambassador in the…um…Holy Land. I was away for years and years.” A wee fib to Robert Boyd, the future First Baron of Kilmarnock couldn’t hurt,
could it?
Eva swiped her hand over her mouth and regarded him. He had no idea he would one day be a favored knight of the forthcoming King Robert the Bruce.

Then her stomach turned upside down as she regarded the legend sitting across the fire, chatting with his personal chaplain, Father John Blair. Deep concern, perhaps even pain, etched lines in his face. In the blink of an eye, Eva’s prior contempt for the man turned into awe. No wonder he was so brusque with her—he had every right to believe her a spy. And tomorrow he planned to be rid of her.

I have to ensure that doesn’t happen
.

She patted her down vest. Good, her notepad was where she always kept it. Then her finger tapped the medallion.
Is this what transported me here? How do I return? Blast Professor Tennant! Why didn’t he tell me this would happen?

William leaned forward and cradled his face in his hands as he shook his head.

Too familiar with that woeful gesture, Eva nudged Robbie with her elbow. “Is something wrong with him?”

“Bloody oath there is.” The lad’s jaw squared as if he were a grown man who’d seen his share of hardship. “His da was murdered with a number of other landowners in Lochmaben this day.”

The date from her mobile phone flashed through her mind.
First May, 1297
. Wallace would kill the Sheriff of Lanark sometime this month. “Does William know who did it?”

“They thought they followed the murderers to Fail Monastery, but it wasn’t the same mob of English bastards.”

Footsteps echoed from the cave’s entrance and every man reached for his weapon.

“’Tis just me, lads,” boomed a deep voice. A stout warrior wearing a hauberk and helm stepped inside and strode straight to William.

“Who’s that?” Eva asked.

“Eddy Little.”

Edward Little? William’s cousin. My word, this is like a convention for Wallace fanatics
.

“There was a survivor,” Eddy said. “An old woman. She said the murderers were Heselrig and his retinue of English thugs from Lanark. It doesn’t surprise me. That man’s cruelty surpasses Edward Plantagenet himself.”

“He’s a vassal of the bastard.” William stood and the two men grasped elbows—something more personal than a handshake. “His actions are in the name of the English king.”

“Aye,” Eddy agreed. “But word has it he’s headed north for a meeting in Glasgow. I say we ambush—”

Looking directly at Eva, William sliced his hand through the air to cut Eddy off. “We’ll bury my father on the morrow, then we’ll set our ambush.”

Loudoun Hill?
Eva wanted to ask, but if she dared speak out, they’d peg her as a spy. Then William would make good on his promise. She clamped her lips tight.

Lord, what the hell am I doing here?

As usual, William woke before his men. This morrow he wanted to ensure he spirited the woman outside before the encampment roused for the day. The last thing they needed was a female amongst their ranks, especially one as lovely as Eva. And aye, even in the dark, her beauty had not gone completely unnoticed.

Though dressed in men’s clothing, it wouldn’t be long before the men figured out her gender—even with tresses shorn like a man’s. Why any woman would cut her hair to her shoulders, William couldn’t fathom. Tresses, especially fiery red locks such as hers should be allowed to grow and blow free in the wind. Och, he maintained an errant affinity for ginger-haired lasses for certain.

After collecting a loaf of bread, he stood over Eva for a moment. She slept curled into the deer hide like a wee bairn. Her arms encircled her knees, but did not hide her long, slender legs. William was an inordinately tall man—taller than anyone he’d ever met. Last eve, Eva had stood but two hands shorter than he. Rarely had William encountered a man who could come close to peering over his shoulder, let alone a woman.

Gingerly, he placed his palm on the lassie’s arm and roused her. She jolted awake, and sat up looking at him with terror in her green eyes, as if afraid he’d run her through. Thank the stars she didn’t scream. He put his finger to his lips indicating quiet. “Come,” he whispered.

She nodded her understanding and followed him outside. “Aren’t you going to wake the others?”

“I thought ye might want to take care of your—ah—needs first.”

Once in the dawning sunlight, he could see her face clearly for the first time. Her eyes shimmered—as green as the rolling hills of Scotland. Bless it, fanned by red lashes, those eyes could melt the most hardened of hearts.

A pink blush blossomed in her creamy-white cheeks. “Thank you.” The feminine softness of her voice, combined with the breeze tossing wisps of her red tresses made his tongue slip out and tap his upper lip. Would those wild curls be silken if he ran his fingers through them? Heaven help him, he forced himself to clench his fists against such an improper urge.

William shifted his feet while he watched her head behind a clump of yellow gorse. God’s teeth, her long legs stretched upward to the most alluring heart-shaped buttocks he’d ever seen in his life. He swiped a hand across his mouth. “I-I’ll just stand guard over here,” his voice rasped.

“Okay.”

But, Lord, her speech was odd
. Though I can understand her for the most part
.
As she said, she doesn’t sound English, but did she speak true about hailing from Edinburgh?

William had tried to ignore her last eve, but he’d been aware of the woman’s every movement sitting beside his squire. Robbie ran at the mouth as if he’d been seated with kin. William almost put an end to their chattering, until he’d been distracted by Eddy Little’s message.

The news grew worse with every murderous report of English hostilities against his countrymen.

Nearly a year ago, William had cast aside his ambitions to enter the priesthood and took up the sword in the name of King John Balliol. Leading his small band of rebels, one blunder after another hit him between the eyes.
If we had been a half-day earlier, Da would still be alive. All those ill-fated victims would still be alive
.

Thunder pounded in his ears while his gut twisted. If only he had forty-thousand men, he could drive the vermin out of Scotland and build a wall across her border like the Romans had done—but this time to keep the English barbarians out. If only. Fortunately for William, years of training to be a Templar had deeply seated the most important lesson:
In war there is no greater virtue than patience. Ponder and deliberate before making a move.

William slammed his fist into his palm.
I will discover who wielded the sword and avenge my father’s death. The time of action is neigh regardless of our numbers
.

It didn’t matter that he’d been fifty miles northwest when news came of the English raid, William felt responsible. He needed more scouts. That his father was one of the slain made his guilt sink to new lows. He and his men carried the torch of freedom because they had sworn no fealty to the oppressor. He would see his king reinstated on the throne or die in the process. That is what united this band of warriors—brothers in a common fight to preserve the identity of a nation.

Eva emerged from the clump of gorse. The sun shimmered across her ginger hair and highlighted the smooth creaminess of her skin. Had he seen her in full light before, he never would have mistaken her for a lad, even though her height was unusual. William slid his gaze down her long legs and his nether parts stirred. “No woman should be clad thus,” he growled, unable to pull his gaze away.

Though she wore a thick doublet hiding her upper body, her slender legs were scandalous.
There is a reason women wear layers of skirts. If even half are as well formed as Eva, no man could engage in an honest day’s labor when faced with lasses clad in tight-fitting chausses
.

Worse, a woman had no place amongst his band of rebels. Rebel—that’s what many of his countrymen believed him to be. But William saw himself as a Samaritan to Scotland’s common man—a patriot.

He inclined his head toward a fallen log. “Come. Let us break our fast.”

She pushed the heels of her hands against her temples as if she had an ache in her head. “I need a cup of coffee.”

William sat on a log. “What is this ye say…coffee?”

She looked at him and arched one brow as if she considered him daft. “It’s a hot drink that helps me wake up in the morning.”

“But ye are already awake.” He broke off a chunk of bread and handed it to her.

Taking it, she nibbled. A crease etched between her eyebrows like she definitely had a sore head.

William always felt his best come morn.
Mayhap she did suffer a severe blow to her skull
. “Do ye have any knots on your head?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Because of your forgetfulness. If ye were knocked atop your head, ye might have a tender spot.”

She clamped the piece of bread between her teeth and ran her hands over her silken red tresses. “The whole thing hurts—I think because I still have no idea how I ended up—ah—at Fail Monastery.”

Eva repeated “Fail Monastery” like it was a question, as if she didn’t believe that’s where she truly had been when he found her cowering beneath the altar.

William tore a bite of bread with his teeth. “I assure ye. There is no doubt in my mind where ye were when we happened upon the monastery. And I’d venture to say, ye’d not be alive had my men and I not arrived when we did.”

She stopped chewing and regarded him. Bloody oath, she could melt the most hardened of hearts with that green-eyed stare. “I haven’t thanked you yet. Please forgive me.”

He looked away and swiped his hand through the air. God’s teeth, he needed to find her kin and be rid of such a distraction. “’Twas nothing. At least we were able to save one life.” William gulped down his bread, thickness swelling in his throat. He glanced away while the fire of rage ignited in his chest.

I’ll not be thinking of bonny eyes whilst my father’s body is still warm
.

When she placed her palm on his hand, William took in a sharp breath. Her lithe fingers, soft as rose petals, soothed ever so much. Damnation, he should have pulled away, but the warmth of her touch and the kindness of her gesture drew him inexplicably. It had been too long since he’d been shown tenderness.

Mayhap a moment of respite
.

Eva must have sensed the tension in his body ease, because she slowly rubbed her fingers back and forth atop his hand.

“I’m sorry about your father,” she said so softly, he barely made out the words.

William closed his eyes and swallowed. “He was a good man.”

“And you will carry his honor in your heart.”

“Aye. That I will.” He forced himself to snatch his hand away. “But ’tis none of your concern.”

A pained expression flashed in her eyes, then she averted her face and took another bite of bread. William didn’t doubt she’d seen trauma and pain beyond her years. Who hadn’t in these trying times?

His gaze drifted down to her boots and he stared. “Where the devil did ye find such craftsmanship?” He leaned forward for a better look. “I’ve never seen the like.”

She crossed her ankles and tucked her feet taut against the log. “They’re functional—keep my feet dry in the wet.”

His eyes strayed up those damned tight-fitting chausses again. “Mayhap we can find ye some proper clothing. I hate to think what the townsfolk will say when they see ye.” He pinched her peculiar doublet between his fingers. “Your costume will draw consternation for certain.”

Biting her bottom lip, she smoothed her hands down the overstuffed quilting. “Do you have a mantle I can borrow?”

“Dunna worry about that. ’Tis best to pass ye off as a lad until ye can be properly dressed. Ye wouldna want the old crows to think ye a witch.”

She shuddered. “Surely they wouldn’t. I possess no magical powers whatsoever.”

Footsteps resounding from the cave drew William’s attention.

“There ye are,” Blair said, heading toward the brush. “We’ll need to be away soon.”

William shoved the remaining bit of bread in his mouth. “Och, aye. The sooner the better.” He turned to Eva. “Since we’ll be riding out of the forest in daylight, I’ll have to blindfold ye.”

Mayhap the woman looked bonnier than a posy of heather, but he still couldn’t trust her—couldn’t trust anyone outside his inner circle of men.

***

Thrust into hell and then blindfolded?

Unable to see a thing, Eva stood near a tree. Dammit, she needed her sight to write this story. Not to mention William had been right that her attire would bring her a world of trouble. In medieval times, her present state of dress would be enough to see her locked in the stocks or worse. What a predicament she’d literally fallen into.

Should she fear for her life or be elated?

Grave danger lay ahead for certain.

Excitement, too?

Possibly.

If only she could find a way to allay William’s suspicions about her character. Nonetheless, his distrust did nothing to quash the electricity firing across her skin. Talk about the story of a lifetime. If she could figure out how to get back home, she already had enough material to write one helluva tale.

The blindfold was so tight, it made her headache throb. To top it off, caffeine withdrawals grew more torturous by the moment. Standing completely sightless, she tugged the coarse cloth in an attempt to loosen it enough not to hurt. “Where are we heading?”

“Ellerslie,” William’s deep voice rumbled.

Her stomach flipped. Though she’d tried to refrain from asking too many questions, she couldn’t let this one slip past, “Do you mean Elderslie in Renfrewshire?”

“No.”

Damn.
But it’s still a clue
.

He grasped her arm and pulled her forward. “Come.”

The unmistakable scent of horse neared as she scooted her feet over the uneven ground. Eva would never forget last night riding on the back of Wallace’s enormous warhorse. Every time the animal’s movement jerked, her heart nearly burst out of her chest.

“I’ll give ye a leg up,” William said, placing his hands on her knee.

Her stomach lurched. “What?”

“Bend your knee, ye daft woman.”

Eva complied, and before she could brace herself, he hefted her straddling on to the back of the horse. She reached forward—yep, the saddle was right in front of her.

William gave her thigh a slap. “I’d think a lass as well traveled as ye would be a mite more comfortable on the back of a horse.”

An image of the red Fiat flashed through Eva’s mind. “Well…” She grimaced. “You’ve either seen me frightened because I’d nearly been killed by a madman or blindfolded. I don’t think you have grounds upon which to judge.”

The horse jostled while the saddle creaked under William’s weight. With a squeal, Eva threw her arms around him. Her cheek smashed into steel. Nothing quite as unromantic as grabbing a man wrapped in mail.

He chuckled. “Ye see what I mean. Ye’re no horsewoman.”

I never claimed to be
. Chewing the inside of her cheek, hundreds of thoughts warred in her head, the first being her sore butt. Straddling the horse stretched her inner thighs, aching from spending so much time on the back of the gelding the day before. It would kill her to ride the entire day. “How long will it take to get to Ellerslie?”

“We’ll be there by midday.”

The cloth encircling her head itched. “How long do I have to wear this blindfold?”

“Until I say.”

Eva closed her eyes and listened to the sounds. Twigs snapped behind and leaves rustled above.

“Do ye have kin in Edinburgh?” he asked.

“N-no.”

“Where are they?”