Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1) (23 page)

“Most intriguing.” Lord Stewart twirled his finger around the point of his beard and looked to his wife. “A talented vocalist who can also show us new dances from the Holy Land.”

William closed his eyes and shook his head. He shouldn’t have pushed her.

“Perhaps you should join a traveling band of minstrels, Miss Eva,” said Lady Stewart, fanning herself. “What do you call your form of dancing?”

“Um.” Eva’s cheeks turned as red as the color of her gown. “A waltz.”

“Waltz? Truly?” questioned her ladyship. “That sounds so inexplicably foreign. By all means, do give us a demonstration. I should like to see how people dance in other parts of Christendom.”

“Yes, my lady.” Eva curtseyed and grasped William’s hand. “But I’ll need a partner.”

“Och, this time I dunna ken the steps.” He tugged his hand away.

Lord Stewart chuckled. “Wallace, a warrior such as ye should not be afraid of anything.”

William’s brows pinched. “I didna say a word about being afraid.”

“Then it is settled.” Eva looked up to the minstrels on the gallery. “Can you play a tune in three-three time?”

The flutist looked at her like she was daft. “Pardon?”

“One, two, three.” She swayed and rose up on her toes. “One, two three. One, two three. Preferably with a strong downbeat on one.”

The musicians leaned their heads together and mumbled. Finally the flutist rolled his hand through the air. “Verra well.”

Eva grinned. “Come, William, you wanted to dance.”

He ground his back molars and allowed her to pull him to the floor. “What the bloody hell are ye on about?”

“Just count and you’ll be fine.” She was all too chipper when she placed one hand on his waist and held his left out to the side.

“Touching?” he grumbled. “This feels most awkward.”

“Oh?” She smiled as if she were enjoying his discomfort. “A bit like I felt when you were planning to pull me into a medieval line dance.”

“A country dance, mind ye. Something with which everyone in Christendom is familiar.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

The minstrels started, and Eva pulled him side to side. “One, two, three. One two, three. Down, up, up. Down, up, up.” She smiled like she’d just had a taste of plum tart. “Good. See, it is easy.”

William tried not to trip. “Mayhap for ye.”

“Now let’s waltz in a circle.”

“What?” Before he could stop her, she led him down, up, up-ing in two complete circles.

“And now we go around the room.” She headed off as if she were the Queen of Sheba.

“Och, aye?” he growled, stumbling over his feet. “When ye least expect it, I’ll pay ye back for this.”

She chuckled. “Sounds like a promise.”

“’Tis a bloody oath.”

But by the time the music ended, William’s feet had managed to come up to tempo. Though this was the most confounding dance he’d ever attempted.

Eva dipped into a deep curtsey. “Thank you, Mr. Wallace.”

He offered a stiff bow. “Remind me not to dance with ye again.”

The crowd’s applause was slow to come. On the dais, their lordships were staring with open mouths.

Eva leaned into William’s shoulder. “It appears waltzing will not become popular in Scotland for some time.”

With Lord Stewart providing the food, William was able to spend more time training his new recruits—at least those who’d shown up with a weapon and armor. Blair was in charge of sending the outcasts home—those who had only arrived in hopes to be fed. God bless it, the day prior, William had watched Blair turn away a blind man and another with a peg leg. Next thing the lepers would be coming to fight. William didn’t even want to think about how to quarantine the infirmed—though mayhap a mob of lepers would instill enough fear among the English ranks that they’d all turn tail and go home.

William assessed a new recruit who brandished a two-handed sword like it was a dagger. “If ye’re planning to hold your blade like a lassie, I may as well slit your throat now and be done with it.”

The young pup lowered his weapon and snorted. “I ken how to fight as well as the next man.”

“Och aye?” William strode toward the braggart, watching him out of the corner of his eye. When near enough, he clamped his fingers around the man’s wrist. With a sharp twist, he disarmed him.

“Bloody hell.” The recruit looked at his hand with disbelief.

“Your weapon’s too heavy to wield with only one hand.” William jutted his face down to the man’s to ensure he had his attention. “If ye’re hell bent on joining the rebellion, ye’ll do as I say, else I’ll have Father Blair give ye a blessing and send ye on your way.”

The lad hung his head. “Apologies, sir.”

That was better. William motioned to the fella’s sparring partner. “Go again.”

As the pair faced off, Bishop Wishart lumbered around the corner of the bailey. “William,” he called. “Would ye walk with me?”

Wallace bowed. “Indeed, your Worship.”

The bishop pointed his staff toward the trees. “Let us take a turn along the burn, away from prying ears.”

“Is something bothering ye, m’lord?”

“I am a vassal of God.” He chuckled. “There is always trouble causing me grave concern.”

William knew better than to press the holy man before they reached the soft babbling of the burn, so he opted for pleasantries first. “How are the lads?”

“You mean my
nephews
?”

William cringed. He deeply respected Robert Wishart, but his indiscretions with his leman were no secret. The lads were his sons, regardless. “Aye.” William continued along the stony path. “’Tis why I said the lads.”

“Ah. They are well enough—hidden at my manor in Ancrum.” The bishop smiled. “Paden is now four and ten.”

“Almost a man,” William said. “What are his aspirations?”

“The boy likes music.” Wishart sighed. “I’m afraid he won’t make much of a warrior.”

“Och, with a bit of training with Brother MacRae in Dundee, he ought to come good.”

The bishop shook his head. “Ye ken as well as I God makes warriors. A man must be born with the heart of a lion—like ye, Willy. Another man of the same size wouldna be half as effective if he didna have your heart.”

“I suppose I’ve seen it in my ranks as well. There are men I choose to be on my flank because I ken they’ll stand and fight until they draw their last breath.” Nearing the burn, William turned the discussion to more pressing matters. “’Tis good to see ye have the ear of The High Steward.”

“The time for action is nigh.” Wishart stretched his arms out from the long sleeves of his vestments and clasped his hands. “There are a great many nobles who have come to me and voiced their disapproval of Edward’s tactics.”

“Disapproval? I’d say ye used too soft a word. Outrage is the first that comes to mind.”

“Aye, Willy.” The bishop patted William’s shoulder. “’Tis the lion’s heart from which you speak, but the nobles must tread verra, verra carefully.”

“I ken, though I’d prefer to see a united Scotland.”

“Perhaps we will soon.”

“Who are those who have come to ye?” William needed to know.

The bishop peered left then right. “’Tis best if I didna say.”

Wallace’s gut twisted. “Och aye? Ye asked me to lead the rebellion, but canna tell me who is for and against?”

Wishart licked his lips. “Ye ken as well as I, with lands on either side of the border, ’tis a verra dangerous path we walk.”

“I grow weary of hearing about men who put their holdings before king and country. Who?” William demanded. “I ken Douglas. Bruce? Comyn? Eglington?”

“Those are all names with which I am familiar.” Bishop Wishart swiped his hand across his wet lips, his movements stilted, nervous.

“Aye, and ye’re talking out both sides of your mouth, with all due respect.” William would be made a fool by no man. “I’ll assume that’s a yea to all parties I named.” He kicked a stone into the burn. “United, we’d be strong enough to invade England, march all the way to London and free our king.”

Wishart expressed his dissention with a tsk of his tongue. “I’ve been to the tower. ’Tis the most impenetrable fortress in all of Christendom.”

Squeezing his fist so tight, his knuckles cracked, William made a quick decision. “Then we must first drive the English out of Scotland—weaken their forces here.”

“Agreed.” The bishop stopped and placed his hand on William’s shoulder. “And your rise in popularity has been most impressive. Seize this opportunity. Let nothing stand in your way.”

“Ye ken, I will.” William swallowed. “But above all, I need your support.”

“Ye have it. I brought ye out here to affirm that the church is behind your rebellion wholeheartedly. I want ye to drive out the enemy and show no mercy.”

“I’m ready to make a stand. But I cannot stress enough that all of Scotland needs to be united behind me in this uprising.”

Bishop Wishart firmly patted Wallace’s shoulder. “Leave that to me, my son.”

“Verra well.” William let out a long breath. “I will expect ye to act swiftly. The nobles will pay heed to ye and the High Steward. With God’s help we will rid our home of the oppressors afore autumn’s end.”

“Well said, lad.” The bishop turned and started back. “Now let us go see how your new recruits are faring.”

***

Oh yes, living the life of an aristocrat in the Middle Ages definitely had its advantages. Eva could sleep as late as she desired in her four poster bed made blissful by a feather mattress, which was exactly what she did this morning. The room served as a perfect example of a medieval bedchamber, with a red canopy above the bed, a window embrasure with furs that could be pulled across the glassless window. And since it was summer, Eva could sit on the bench in the embrasure and write, enjoying both fresh air and natural light.

The most glorious thing of all was privacy. Living in a cave with a mob of rebels for a month sure did reestablish a girl’s priorities.

At the moment, she stood beside the hearth and watched the serving boys carry pails of water to fill the enormous oblong tub they’d brought up for her bath. Sarah, Eva’s chambermaid oversaw the parade, standing by the door with her hands on her hips. “Mind ye don’t splash water on his lordship’s floorboards.”

Eva liked Sarah and they were close in age. Better yet, she didn’t ask many questions and treated Eva like she was royalty. With her own bedchamber equipped with a garderobe and a personal servant, all the food she could eat in the hall, or room service if she asked, it was akin to staying in a five-star hotel in any major city.

Sarah even provided turndown service.

Watching a lad pour in an iron pot of steaming water, Eva couldn’t help but question, “What do you do with the water after the bath?”

“Take it out the same way it got in—scoop it out with the buckets, except we toss the water out the window so the lads dunna have to haul it all the way back down the stairwell again.” Sarah moved her hands to her hips. “I’m surprised ye need ask, Miss Eva.”

“Of course, it was the same in my father’s keep.” Eva pretended to brush some lint from her shoulder and took a seat in one of the two padded chairs near the hearth. She folded her hands atop the round table. “Is there a bathhouse on the premises?”

“Aye, for the servants, though. His lordship and the family all bathe in that basin right there.”

The last lad finished pouring his portion of water and walked out the door.

“Off with ye, now.” Sara gestured to the tub. “Can I help ye wash your hair, Miss Eva?”

“Oh no. I can handle it from here.”

“Truly?” Sarah wrung her hands. “His lordship and lady make a grand occasion of their baths. We set up a privacy tent around the basin and a board across for food. The minstrels play whilst they have a grand feast and all manner of servants attend them.”

Eva chuckled. “I assure you, no such display is necessary for me. I’d simply like to have a good soak and I need no one attending me for that.”

The chambermaid curtseyed. “Verra well. I suppose I’ll leave ye be, then.”

“Thank you, Sarah.”

After the chambermaid took her leave, Eva disrobed and stepped into the warm water. Though cooler than if she’d run a bath with a tap, it still caressed her feet with heavenly luxury. She lowered herself in, releasing a long sigh. Ah yes, she could languish there all day.

Allowing the water to buoy her arms, she closed her eyes and gave in to the sensation of weightlessness. If given the choice, Eva could handle being a member of the gentry in the thirteenth century, no question. Her spacious bath was almost as relaxing as a massage. Perhaps this was where she was meant to be. Aside from her parents, she had no real ties to the twenty-first century.

Then her eyes flew open.
I have to go back. In no way do I want to be here in 1305.

Though it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water, a cold chill coursed over her skin. She sat up and rubbed her outer arms.

Stop it. I’ll allow a year and then I’m going back. End of story.

Taking in several consecutive breaths, she closed her eyes again and sought to blank her mind. She focused on her breathing and on the image of the sun radiating from her core to the tips of her limbs, then slid deeper into the welcoming water.

One day at a time, remember? Live for the now
.

After washing her hair with real shampoo and languishing in a state of bliss, the door opened and closed. Pulling herself up enough to peer over the basin’s edge, Eva chuckled. “How did you know I would be naked and wet?”

William stepped into the chamber, turning up one corner of his mouth. “Mayhap I’m a seer as well.”

“I believe you are.” She sat up, giving him a peek at her breasts. “Why don’t you join me? There’s plenty of room.”

He reached for his sword belt. “’Tis exactly why I slipped inside.”

Nothing could stir Eva’s passion like a tall, muscular Scotsman disrobing. Lordy, she could watch him stand before her in the nude for hours. His every movement heightened the flame burning deep inside as if her mind snapped a picture at each angle and pose. After he kicked off his hose, he grasped the edge of the basin, but Eva held up her palm. “Wait.”

“Aye?” He looked up with the dark look in his eye she’d grown to crave.

“There’s a present for you on the table.” She inclined her head.

His gaze shifted. “What? Ye needn’t give me anything.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” She flicked her wrist and watched the defined muscles in his legs flex as he strode across the floor.

“Och,” he whispered and reached for the leather purse. He held it closer to the candlelight. “’Tis sturdy.”

“I asked the tailor to make it for you.” She gestured to the ties. “It goes on your belt.”

“Aye lass.” He grinned. “’Tis where a man carries his purse.”

Eva’s heart skipped a beat. She adored his smile. “So you like it? I had a St. Andrew’s Cross stamped into it.”

He traced his finger over the cross that would one day become the flag of Scotland. “’Tis the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received.”

She leaned against the edge of the tub and regarded the firm edge of his jaw.
What would William think of a modern Christmas with dozens of presents under the tree?

“Are ye all right?”

She shook her head. “Never better…Are you coming in now?”

“Aye, lass.” Leaning forward, he cupped her chin in his palm and lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss spilled through her soul as if their bond could never be broken.

When William lowered himself into the water, it nearly sloshed over the sides. “Ah,” he sighed. “My ma used to fill a wooden tub at the croft.” He looked side to side. “It wasn’t as large as this, though.”

Eva slid forward and straddled him. “The chambermaid says his lordship’s whole family can have a merry time in this tub.”

He responded with a deep moan and brushed his lips across her mouth. “I rather like it with two.”

She held up a bar of rosemary soap that Sarah had given her. “Let me bathe you.” Though William had chosen to bed down with his men outside the gates of Renfrew, he’d probably spent more of the wee hours in her chamber than not.

As the lather foamed, Eva swirled her hands over his chest and he leaned back with a satisfied moan. “Lower.”