In the Kingdom's Name (Guardian of Scotland Book 2) (24 page)

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 could 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.”

By the time the first of August arrived, Eva couldn’t sleep, eat, or function. She’d tried to act as if nothing was afoot, as if the end would never come. But August arrived with the speed of a brakeless freight train and she now must do everything in her power to ensure William remained on the isle.

For the past few months, men had been trickling to Eynhallow under the pretense of becoming monks—some coming from the Highlands as a result of Lady Christina’s efforts. William trained religiously during the days and succumbed to Eva’s massages and warm baths at night. Though he worked tirelessly, his past injuries plagued him. In her time, a rugby player would often retire at the age of thirty-five. William had been battle scarred and wounded year after year—and not just muscle tears and sprains, which were bad enough. He’d suffered cuts to his every appendage, not to mention his abdomen, back and shoulders. Every inch of the man’s flesh was crisscrossed with puckered scars. Eva could only imagine the damage he’d sustained beneath the skin.

But today was Sunday, a day of rest even observed by Wallace. Eva found him facing the sea, the wind in his hair as he sat reading his psalter. She stood still for a moment and watched, her breast swelling as if the waves crashing into the shore roiled inside her.

God bless it, the man defined magnificence. In quiet repose, alone with his maker, he looked gentle, content, at peace. If not for his deep-rooted passion to emancipate his people, he might have been suited for a life in the clergy. But then again, William was the type to find a cause—drawn to the persecuted—driven to unfetter their shackles no matter the cost.

How such a man could be so desirable in every way, she could not fathom. His bold profile punctuated by a straight nose, angled mouth, the coppery fullness of his beard—she adored everything about him. Could observe him for hours.

Licking her lips, she pulled her smartphone from her pocket and snapped a couple of pictures. Ever so peaceful, this was the man who’d claimed her heart, the man she would never forget no matter what. No other could possibly fill his shoes.

He turned the page. Eva smiled inwardly. The leather binding of his psalter was nearly worn, brown leather showing through the black where his hand gripped it. Several leaves had long since separated from the binding, but though William had the means, he refused to purchase a new one. No, this book had been his constant companion since the days when he’d studied to be a Templar knight. He kept it whole and secure with a leather thong. A more ardent soldier of God did not exist. Truly, William’s passion came from his faith and his love for the oppressed.

If only men like him existed in my time.

Marking the page with his finger, he looked out to sea as if contemplating something profound in the text.

Just a few more days.
She must ensure he stayed on the isle. In a week she could sleep. Even if the medallion sent her home, it would be worth it as long as she succeeded.

I’m convinced this is why I’ve been sent back. Not to heal William, but to save him
.

He glanced her way and grinned—the charismatic smile with the white teeth that never ceased to make her knees crumble. “How long have ye been standing there?” he asked, his deep voice carrying on the wind.

“Not long.” Eva strolled to his side and sat. “Would you like some company?”

He opened his arm and enfolded her in his plaid beside him. “’Tis always a pleasure to have ye by my side, wife.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “It warms me inside to hear you call me wife.”

“And all that time ye feared marrying me.” Inhaling through his nostrils, he kissed her cheek. “Is it so awful?”

She curled into his warmth. God, she loved this man. “I never thought it would be.”

“But ye ken something. I feel it in my bones—something ye canna speak of.”

A knot the size of a fist clamped in her neck. Jesus Christ, she couldn’t speak of it…couldn’t even think about it. She looked down.

“Ye see?” he pressed, lifting her chin with his pointer finger. “I ken your heart, Lady Eva, and whatever it is has ye rattled.”

She closed her eyes. “It is too awful to speak of.” Though tucked away in her satchel, she couldn’t stifle the medallion’s warmth as if it were flush against her skin. Heaven help her, she
had
to stay—had to save him.

William’s arm squeezed around her shoulder and drew her close. “I’ve seen enough death and brutality for a hundred lifetimes. Do ye not think I canna stomach any vileness no matter how wretched?”

“But what of a heinous crime against you?” Cold chills seeped across her skin. “What of unconscionable suffering—a hideous death?”

He brushed his lips across her temple with a tender kiss. “Och, lass. I’ve been tortured within an inch of my life. Cut open by the claws of a lion. Ye think I fear death?”

“Doesn’t everyone? I mean the end is so final.”

“Is it?” He held up his beloved psalter. “This life is but a passage to the next.”

She gazed at him in awe. “You are so secure in your belief.”

“If I wasna, I’d have gone completely mad by now. Mark me, wife, there is a greater glory waiting for those who take up the sword and fight for justice. Blair spoke true when he said ‘rebellion to tyrants is obedience to God.’”

“Well then I expect you to be an exalted commander in heaven’s army.” Jeez, she almost bit her tongue off when those words escaped her mouth. She didn’t want to talk about death—didn’t want to even acknowledge it.

He crossed his ankles as if this conversation were idle chat. “I would be happy to be a servant who washes the feet of the great men who have gone before me.”

For the love of God, they were both only thirty-five. They could grow old together on this tiny island. William could build a cottage. There were plenty of fish and rabbits. They needed nothing else. She hugged his arm. “Promise me something.”

“What is that,
mon amour
?”

“You will not leave the island in the next month at least.” She wanted to say never, but that would have been met with a sharp rebuttal.

He narrowed his gaze. “Why a month?”

Because I aim to rewrite history
. “Can you just promise me this once?”

He shrugged. “A promise for my Scottish rose?”

“Please.”

“I’d promise ye the moon if I owned piece of it.” Pulling her into his lap, he softly brushed his lips over hers, his crystal blue eyes reflecting the waves. “Ye mean more to me than anyone in all of Christendom. But I canna make promises I mightn’t be able to keep.”

He covered her mouth before she could speak, his kiss melting into her like succulent chocolate. Showing him the depth of her love with fervent sweeps of her tongue, Eva’s heart swelled until she could burst.

As a tear slipped from the corner of her eye, she clutched him to her for dear life. This man was her savior. His breath alone commanded her heart to beat. She must not give up. She moved her fingers to his psalter and made a silent vow.

I swear I will watch over my husband and keep him safe from harm
.