Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1) (13 page)

William let his legs drift downward as he planted his feet in the sandy riverbed.

In a heartbeat, he scarcely could take a breath.

Wearing not a stitch of clothing, Eva stood in thigh-deep water with her back to him.

Before he blinked, his gaze slid from coppery tresses brushing feminine shoulders to a tiny waist which fanned into glorious heart-shaped buttocks. Heaven’s stars, her flawless skin had to be as pure white as fresh cream.

God on the cross, save me
.

Christ, he was only a flesh and blood man. Who on earth could resist such a temptation? He clenched his teeth and growled. Frigid water or nay, he lengthened like a stallion catching scent of a filly in heat. God’s teeth, even his ballocks turned to balls of tight molten steel. Palms sweaty, chest heavy and heaving, his mind honed in on one thing. Lord, he had to bring himself under control…and why the devil was she naked, bathing in the wood with so many men about? Hell, if anyone saw her…

He clenched his fists.

She turned. The devil only knew why she did that, but her mouth formed an “O” with her gasp and she crossed an arm over her breasts and slid a hand in front of the triangle of red curls he’d already seen. He’d caught a glimpse of her breasts, too. He stood dumbstruck, his feet sinking into the riverbed. By the saints, he couldn’t turn away from such perfection—full and ripe as melons, tipped with pink rosebuds. He licked his lips, forcing himself to clench his muscles against the blast of desire surging through his groin.

She blinked in rapid succession. “You-you’re back?” Heaven help him, she was lovely even with the bruise surrounding her eye.

“Aye.” The word came out with a husky growl. “Robbie told me what ye did with the men. I owe ye my thanks.” As the vivid green of her eyes became more intense, he suddenly realized he’d started walking toward her.

Eva’s gaze dipped down the length of his body. Her lips parted and a dainty pink tongue slipped out and moistened them.

William looked down. The water all but covered his braies and the thick column that refused to ease. But she was so close he could practically reach out and touch her. If only he could pull her naked body into his embrace and kiss those bow-shaped lips—enjoy those soft, pliable breasts pressing into his chest.

She dropped her arms and took one step toward him—an inordinately bold move for a lass. It made the fire in his groin burn all the more. When her brilliant green eyes met his gaze, her chin ticked up and she smiled.

Wantonly.

“Someone needed to set the men to task until you arrived.” Her voice turned sultrier than a midsummer’s day.

“Eva, I—” Blessed be the saints, he didn’t know what to say—could scarcely inhale—especially with those unbelievably desirable breasts now pointing straight at him. Jesus, he wanted to taste them, his fingers ached to sink into her softness and run across those deliciously hard tips.

With one more step, she placed her palm on his chest. “Yes?” she asked breathlessly.

God’s bones
.

It took every bit of self-control he could muster not to drag her into his arms—devour those enticing lips—grind his hips against that red triangle that screamed for him. Lord, if she was half as delectable as she looked, he’d come undone in two blinks of an eye.

But no. He could not act on his base desires. With a surge of restraint, he grasped her wrist. “Ye must return from whence ye came.”

Her lips thinned, but she took her free hand and brushed the hair from his face. Bloody hell, why did she have to touch him like that? “I know I pushed you too far—showed you too much.” She glanced back to the shore. “Look, I borrowed a cake of soap from Brother Bartholomew.”

William’s mouth grew dry.

She stepped so close, the heat from her naked body warmed him. “Please don’t send me away. I am convinced I’m meant to be here.” The green of her eyes grew darker. God, she was too close for him to form a rational thought. “With you.”

William shook his head and turned his back before she could further distract him with her wicked body. “Scotland is at war. I’m living in a cave. ’Tis no place for a woman, no matter in which century she was born.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Och aye, now she sounds self-assured.
“Nay, ye cannot. Ye proved that at the gaol in Lanark when I found ye unconscious—look at your blessed eye. ’Tis still black and blue. Besides, even if ye were to stay, how could I trust ye?”

She coughed out a high-pitched gasp. “I’ve been completely truthful with you.”

“Aye?” He rubbed his eyes, trying to forget the image of her succulent breasts prone to him—pink tips—silken skin. God’s teeth, he needed to dunk his head in the icy river and hold it there. “’Tis easier to believe ye lost your home in Dunbar than ye came from the future.”

“I fabricated my story at first, because I knew you wouldn’t believe me then. Once you found my things—well, I had no choice but to be honest.” By the stars, she spoke with a forked tongue.

He folded his arms to steel his resolve. “Ye see? Ye’ll lie to me if ye think I’ll believe it.”

“I will not.” The water sloshed. “I hate lying. I have pledged my life to telling the truth. If I weren’t afraid you’d slit my throat with that gargantuan sword of yours, I would have told you the truth from the outset.”

William regarded her over his shoulder. She’d climbed onto the shore and wrapped a drying cloth around her body, thankfully hiding those distracting breasts…alluring hips—but those slender legs still attracted him like a cock to a hen.

She jutted her foot to the side and tapped the damnable thing. “Tell me. If you awoke unarmed in some strange place with a crazy man—clearly not from your time—swinging a sword at you, and were dragged from the scene by an enormous brute and put on a very large horse, the likes you’d never ridden before—would you be forthcoming about your identity?”

He waded to the shore, moving his hands to his hips. “Of course I would.”

She groaned. “Let me put it another way. You’ve heard of the Egyptians, right?”

“Aye.”

“So if you awoke in an Egyptian temple, before the time of Moses, and they identified you as an Israelite, wouldn’t you try to do what you could to stay out of chains…until you figured out how to get home?”

Damnation, she could take an argument and turn it into a muddle. “So are ye an English spy?”

“No, you aren’t understanding me at all.” Her face flushed red as she shook her finger. “I’m just trying to say that I had no choice but to make up a story until I was sure you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Ye think I willna?”

She glanced back to her clothes, spread out to dry in the sun. “I suppose it is a possibility, but you are William Wallace, not a bloodthirsty murderer. I now know I was meant to find you.”

Now she had
him
tapping his foot. “How can ye be so sure?”

“Because I swore I could uncover your story without changing the past—I swore I would bring the truth to the world.” She was being nonsensical.

“I am but a crofter’s son—a younger one at that, meant to become a monk. I lead a small band of rebels.” Heaven help him, his gaze slipped to the points of her breasts straining against the linen cloth. With a growl, he forced his eyes to look at her face. “Aye, we’ve gained some recognition from our raid on Lanark, but I’ll soon fall into obscurity. History remembers kings, bishops and popes. Even if ’tis as ye said and I become a commander. When John Balliol is returned to the throne, Scotland will once again be at peace, and I can return to Dundee and take my vows.”

Raising her chin, her gaze met his, then drifted aside as she sighed. William couldn’t shake the sense that she disapproved of something he’d said—knew there must be something she wasn’t letting on to. He wanted to ask her how she’d known so much about what would happen during his meeting with Lord Stewart, but discussing it with the woman would only encourage further soothsaying.

“My mind’s run amuck.” He gestured toward her clothes. “Put on your gown. Ye shouldna be out here alone with all the men mulling about. ’Tisn’t safe.”

“But Robbie told them I was…that you would, um, have words with anyone who touched me.”

William knew well enough what the lad would have said and it had nothing to do with a conversation. “Aye? With a body as sinful as yours, mayhap no God-fearing man in Scotland is safe.” He turned his back. “Now put on the damned dress afore I do something we’ll both regret.”

Eva hadn’t been able to look William in the eye after they’d returned to the camp. And he obviously wanted to distance himself from her—hadn’t said a word. He’d taken the evening meal sitting with Eddy Little and John Blair, pretty much like he always did.

But Eva couldn’t ignore the tension in his silence. Lord, he said he’d burn her if she was still there when he returned from Renfrew. The reason she didn’t flee to Fail and beg to go home was because she hadn’t lied—prayed he figured that out during his meeting with the High Steward. He had to learn to trust her—believe her story, and fleeing would only serve to solidify his misgivings and errant assumptions.

Why is he so tight-lipped? He must be pleased about all the men flocking to him to pledge their fealty.

Now that their numbers had tripled, men filled their trenchers and sat wherever they could find a place, mostly outside. As usual, Eva sat with Robbie. At least he seemed to like her, and though he was just a lad, she felt safe beside him. He didn’t look at her with leering eyes and she had no doubt the boy would stand up to any man in her defense.

Though the boy yammered about his day and all the new recruits, Eva hadn’t listened. She pushed her food around her trencher, too wound up about acting so embarrassingly bold when alone and naked with William. At first she’d been mortified that he’d caught her bathing, but when he moved in her direction with that look on his face—lips slightly parted, his hungry eyes drinking in every inch of her bare flesh—she’d misread his intention.

God, she was a lamebrain. Why on earth did a man seven hundred years her senior happen to be the only guy who’d stirred any sort of desire since Steven’s death? Oh yeah, William Wallace wasn’t just the greatest hero Scotland had ever known, he was hot, sexy and as rugged as the Highlands. The gruff alpha male wasn’t usually Eva’s type, but heaven help her, the man had the most chiseled set of ripped abs she’d ever seen.

Michelangelo would have killed to sculpt him…but jeez, even the brilliant artist won’t be born for almost two hundred years
.

She chewed her thumbnail. An affair with William wouldn’t have been so bad—if he’d shown any interest at all. She could have allowed herself a fleeting tryst.
Why not? I’m a widow.
They could have both enjoyed a zippy romance with no strings attached.

Not that she’d ever in her life considered doing anything so daring.

A lead ball sank to the pit of her stomach. For the first time since she’d arrived in the thirteenth century, she thought about William’s gruesome end. She could have heaved all over her trencher.

Forget lust, it was probably best they remain at odds after all. She needed to stop acting like a total idiot. The first love of her life was murdered—nothing like setting herself up to fall head over heels for someone she knew would…

A man climbed onto a rock and began to play a wooden flute and the noise in the cave ebbed to a low hum. Spritely music echoed off the cavern walls and whirled around them. Goodness, the acoustics were ideal for a performance.

Robbie tapped his foot. “I like a good tune.”

“Me, too.” Eva clapped her hands together, but when she met William’s gaze across the fire, her smile waned.

He looked at her with such intensity she could have sworn she was still naked.
I’ll never live down that slip of judgement
. She smoothed her hands over her skirts to ensure everything was in place. But she couldn’t drag her eyes away from William’s stare. It made her breath come in short gasps. Had he decided to rid himself of her once and for all?

I should have run.

But I couldn’t.

God, why does he have to be so…so…male?

Damn, I always want that which I can never have.

Robbie elbowed her in the ribs. “Do ye sing?”

“Aye.” She licked her lips and forced herself to tear her gaze away from William and regard the lad. “I used to…”
When I was at uni
.

He rolled his hand through the air. “Go on then. Give us a tune.”

“Oh no.” She shook her head. “I doubt I know any songs that would be familiar to you.”

Robbie stood, stretching his arms wide. “Who wants to hear Willy’s woman sing us a tune?”

Eva’s panicked gaze shot to William. His jaw tensed like he could kill the lad—she could too, damn the little pipsqueak.

But the others hollered and clapped, egging her on.

William shook his head, then shrugged. A lot of help he’d be. Eva bumbled to her feet and stood while her mind recounted all the tunes she’d ever sung from
Itsy Bitsy Spider
to
Ave Maria
to the top ten she’d hummed with on the radio last week. Not a one would do. Even
Ring Around the Rosy
hadn’t been composed yet. Lord, the Black Death wouldn’t hit for about another fifty years. She shuddered and closed her eyes.

Making a snap decision, she drew in a deep breath and launched into a song she loved,
You Raise Me Up
. Her choir at NYU had sung the modern Irish folksong. She’d even been given the solo, which had been one of the highlights of her year.

She started softly. “
When I am down and, oh my soul’s so weary…”
Even without a microphone, the acoustics in the cave were surprisingly resonant. Chills spread down the backs of her arms as she looked at the stunned faces of her audience.

Even Robbie and the lads beside him sat perfectly still, their mouths agog.

She sang the second verse mezzo forte, but when Eva hit the refrain, she crescendoed to fortissimo, the sound almost palpable. What a time to realize how much she missed singing.

Filled with the uplifting spirit of the moment, she swayed and lifted her hands, holding them above her head for the ending. “…
I am strong when I am on your shoulders
…” Eva took in a deep inhale and lowered her arms, emphasizing the retard and decrescendo. “
You raise me up to more than I can be
.” As the last note echoed, swirling around the cavernous walls and gradually faded, the men sat in complete silence.

Someone sniffed—another rubbed his eyes.

Eva chanced a glance at William. Sitting erect, his dark stare made her stomach totally flip with butterflies. It wasn’t a look of anger, oh no, Eva knew the look well enough. Predator came to mind—a deadly hunter honing in on his prey.

She liked it—craved what she’d seen at the river and more.

But even Eva knew better than to humiliate herself twice in one day. Oh no, besides, this time an audience would watch her every movement.

Before another thought popped into her head, deafening applause filled the chamber. Robbie hopped up and raced beside her. “Bloody oath, ye can sing. Why didna ye tell me ye were good enough to be a king’s minstrel?”

“Och aye,” hollered John Blair from across the fire. “If ye’re intent on having the woman remain in our army, we might be able to make use of her talent to create a diversion. What say ye, William?”

The priest actually had sort of a kind word to say? A lump stuck in Eva’s throat. The dark stare gone, Wallace glanced at her, then to Blair, but his reply was swallowed up by the noise of the crowd.

Her singing probably made him want to be rid of her even more now. She’d drawn too much attention to herself.

Jeez, why do I always have to ruin things?

After bidding goodnight to Robbie, Eva headed for the alcove to hide. Maybe sleep would help her recover from a thoroughly embarrassing day.

***

William watched Eva pick her way to his makeshift bedchamber. He didn’t know if the lass realized she’d taken over the space he’d carved out for himself when he and his band of upstarts had discovered the cave—they’d only been five strong at the time.

Growling under his breath, he looked to young Boyd curling up on his pallet of pelts. So Robbie had told everyone Eva was William’s woman? If only Wallace
could
have a woman as bonny and spirited as that redheaded lass for his own. And who knew she could sing like an angel? She possessed a voice clear as a flute and still swore she wasn’t a witch? Bloody hell, Eva MacKay meant trouble. Doubtless, by the time she’d finished her tune, she had every man in the cave wanting to bed her—including Wallace. Ballocks, it had taken an iron will not to ravish her by the river earlier in the day as well.

He nursed his tankard of ale and stared at the furs covering the entrance to his place of solace. Had she removed her apron and kirtle? Was she brushing her hair wearing nothing but a thin linen shift? Though only shoulder length, her tresses reminded him of copper shimmering in sunlight.

The hum of the crowd started to ebb as it usually did at this hour. Beside William, Blair held a flask of whisky between his palms, his eyes closed, snoring louder than a builder’s saw.

William sat quietly for a time, pulling on his ale, staring at the furs shrouding the recess. He should be thinking about all the new men and how he’d start training them on the morrow.

She’s probably asleep by now
.

Curiosity consumed his mind. His tankard empty, William set it aside and crossed the cavern to her—his alcove. He stood for a moment well aware entering would only serve to make things worse, but now he was there, the men would think him weak if he didn’t slip inside, especially since Robbie told them she was his woman.

Blast Robbie Boyd. This is all his doing.

William ducked under the low ingress and stepped inside. A lone candle had nearly burned to a nub.

Eva sat up, clutching the blanket beneath her chin. “William?”

“Aye.” The word came out thick and raspy.

She sighed. “Thank goodness it’s you.”

Unable to stand upright, he pulled himself alongside her and reclined on his elbow. Thankfully there was ample room for them both, as touching her would drive him over the edge. “Who else did ye expect?”

“Not sure. The men have been respectful—you know—they haven’t tried
anything
.” By the stars, her scent was more alluring than a field of heather. Bartholomew’s soap had never had him smelling so bonny.

He toyed with a lock of her hair and twirled it around his finger. “Would ye like me to leave?”

“No, not at all.” She placed her palm on his chest. She’d done that by the river, too.

God’s bones, William’s heart thrummed so fast, he gasped.

“I want you—ah—to stay.” Her exhale shuddered. “We—um—don’t have to…” Her gaze trailed down the length of his body as she bit her bottom lip. “…you know.”

God save him, he bloody well knew. His entire lower half ignited into an unquenchable raging fire, he knew so well. And lord knew what it did to his insides to have her eyes upon him—look at him with such unfettered desire. He’d been living like a monk for far too long not to be painfully aware his cods were about to burst with want for her. But doubt crept up his spine. Had she changed her mind since they’d been at the river? He unwound her hair. “Ye dunna want to—ah—with me?”

He’d intended to train his gaze all the way down her body, but he only got as far as her lips. Red, petal-soft lips, slightly parted just as they’d been earlier. He adored the femininity of them—bow shaped, begging to be kissed. Before a rational thought crossed his mind, William’s hand slid behind her neck. Ever so slowly, he lowered his lips to hers. Eva’s sweet, minty breath caressed him, sending a fireball of heat through his chest. When finally their mouths joined, his heart thundered as the floodgates of desire spread through his groin.

Holy Moses, the moist heat of her lips stripped away every ounce of resolve he had left. They were so damned soft—why had he waited? Why didn’t he pull her into his arms at the river and take her? Och aye, by the way her tongue danced with his, the wee whimpers of her voice, she wanted him as much as he craved to have her in his arms.

William’s blood thrummed faster. The woman’s fervent response, her passionate wildness did unholy things to his cock. Lord, he wanted to be inside her—feel the warm wetness milk him—holy hell, he wanted her so badly, he mightn’t be able to wait.

She moaned, her fingers sliding from his chest to his shoulder, showing him her mind hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Thank God.

A fresh spike of heat hit William low in the gut. His body craved friction and he arched his hips toward her. When he finally pressed his cock against her, his entire body shuddered. How long had it been since he’d been this aroused?

Never
.

Kissing him as if she’d been starved for days, Eva slipped her leg over his hip. She nestled her crux against his solid erection and rubbed. Holy hell it felt good—too good. All he could do was hold on and try not to come undone. God bless her, this woman proved to be a vixen in every way.

She sighed as their kiss eased. “I didn’t think you wanted me.”

“Ye’re wrong there.” He’d wanted her since he’d discovered she was a woman. How could he have ever thought her a lad? “I’d be a daft fool if I didna want ye, Eva.”