In the Kingdom's Name (Guardian of Scotland Book 2) Read online

  IN THE KINGDOM’S NAME

  Guardian of Scotland ~ Book Two

  by Amy Jarecki

  Rapture Books

  Copyright © 2016, Amy Jarecki

  Jarecki, Amy

  In the Kingdom’s Name

  ISBN: 9781942442080

  AISN: B017QKCC1Q

  First Release: February, 2016

  Book Cover Design by: Amy Jarecki

  Edited by: Scott Moreland

  All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences.

  Heartfelt thanks to my beta readers, Anna, Christine and Marti. Your feedback added the finishing touches to this book. I’d also like to thank my editor, Scott Moreland. Without him you’d see all my unflattering tyops…I mean typos.

  Foreword

  In the Guardian of Scotland Volume One, Rise of a Legend, historical journalist Eva MacKay joins an archaeological dig at the battleground of Loudoun Hill. There, she meets Professor Tennant from Glasgow University who gives her a medallion inscribed in Latin. Translated it reads, “Truth is like a beacon, but few choose to follow”.

  What she doesn’t realize is the medallion has the power to change her life forever.

  Falling asleep in a ruined monastery, Eva awakes in the midst of a bloody thirteenth century battle. Just when certain death is eminent, brutal arms surround her and drag her deeper into unknown terror. But her excitement escalates when she discovers she has been hauled to the hideout of William Wallace in Leglen Wood—the very man, the icon, the legend about whom she wrote a series of articles for the New York Times.

  While she grows accustomed to life in 1297, Eva realizes she has landed the story of a lifetime—if she can find a way home to tell her tale.

  What she doesn’t count on is her mounting chemistry with the greatest legend Scotland has ever known, or the absolute love swelling in her heart.

  But regardless of her growing attachment, Eva gives herself a year, witnesses Wallace in action as he attacks Lanark, gains allies with Bishop Wishart and the High Steward of Scotland. William takes Scone and Dundee, then forms an alliance with Andrew Murray. Together, they wage the historical Battle of Stirling Bridge. Indeed, Eva witnesses history as it unfolds—uncovers the depth of character of the great man who united a nation.

  Rise of a Legend leaves us with Wallace’s victory after Stirling Bridge and the deep love that has grown between Eva and William. Join us now as this time-swept couple marches toward the greatest challenge of their lives…If you dare.

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  Selkirk, Scotland, late September, 1297

  Holding her breath, Eva MacKay shot a glance over her left shoulder then her right. Alone at the rear of the nave, she stood behind a gathering of the most influential nobles in Scotland. Temptation made her fingers twitch. This might be her only chance. Gingerly, she slid her hand into the pouch hanging from her belt and palmed her smartphone. She’d be a total fool not to snap a photo of such a momentous occasion.

  But if caught…

  With a shudder, Eva looked again to ensure no one watched.

  She pushed the “on” button and drew the phone out. With a quick swipe of her finger, familiar icons illuminated. After selecting the camera, she turned off the flash and held it up, snapping two quick pictures. Before Eva dared look at them, she slipped the shiny black rectangle back into her pocket—more like a purse, really, fashioned from the same damask as her thirteenth-century gown.

  The sound of a man clearing his throat came from Eva’s left. Jolting, her stomach somersaulted with a queasy leap. John Comyn, Lord of Badenoch, stepped from behind an enormous stone pillar. He stood for a moment and squinted at her with suspicion etched across his hard, pinched features. Eva folded her arms and raised her chin in defiance. Then she tiptoed to resume her place beside Lady Christina Murray while watching the snake out of the corner of her eye. In the short time she’d come to know Scotland’s nobles, she trusted Comyn the least, with the Earl of March a close second.

  As the Lord of Badenoch brushed past her and joined his wife, Eva exhaled and turned her attention to the front of the Kirk of the Forest. Lord John Stewart, the High Steward of Scotland, presided over the ceremony, flanked by Canon Lamberton. “Kneel,” Stewart instructed William Wallace and Sir Andrew Murray.

  They complied as commanded, wearing full battle armor of hauberks and mail coifs, adorned with surcoats emblazoned with the St. Andrew’s Cross. Lord Stewart placed his palms upon their heads. “By the power invested in me granted by the Privy Council of this great nation, I hereby declare Mr. Wallace and Sir Murray joint Guardians of the Kingdom of Scotland. As witnessed by your gallant bravery and cunning defeat of the English at Stirling Bridge, ye shall not only preside over matters of state, ye shall be Commanders of the Army of Scotland and the community of the same Kingdom.”

  The High Steward paused for a moment and panned his gaze across the gathering of Scotland’s highest ranking nobles. “Do ye swear to uphold all laws and decrees of the Kingdom of Scotland?”

  “I so swear,” Wallace and Murray said in unison.

  “Do ye swear in the presence of all in attendance to defend this great nation against Scotland’s enemies?”

  “I so swear.”

  “Do ye promise to safeguard the rights of the crown until Scotland once again sees our monarch returned to the throne?”

  The two men regarded each other with a solemn nod. “I so promise.”

  Then Lord Stewart stood back and raised his palms. “Go forth and act to uphold the interests and decrees of Scotland. From this day henceforth, all subjects shall honor ye as the undisputed Guardians of this blessed Kingdom.”

  Eva pressed her palms together and touched her fingers to her lips while tears blurred her vision. Unwilling to miss a single moment, she blinked in rapid succession. Indeed, this day was the most uplifting in the five months since she’d been hurled into the thirteenth century.

  Together, William and Sir Andrew stood, bowed, then turned and strode down the aisle. Though at six-foot, Sir Andrew Murray was inordinately tall for a man of this era, Wallace towered over him by more than a head. Of all the nobles in attendance, William was the only commoner, but by far, the most impressive warrior. Chestnut curls peeked from beneath his coif, framing a handsomely chiseled face made fierce by his cropped auburn beard. Even though he wore thick mail armor, anyone would be impressed with his well-toned, iron-muscled frame. Wrapped in tight chausses, William’s powerful legs stretched against his thigh-length hauberk and surcoat with every stride.

  When he caught Eva’s eye, a slight smile turned up one corner of his mouth, his crystal blue eyes sparkling with the flicker of the aisle candles nested in their tall, iron stands. In truth, William Wallace could make Eva melt merely with a look and today was no different. She drew a hand over her heart to stifle its rapid pounding.

  No one knew why the mystic powers behind the ancient medallion chose her, pulling Eva from the twenty-first century ruins of Fail Monastery through some sort of time warp where Wallace rescued her from nearly being murdered by the sharp point of an English sword. Since arriving in the midst of a battle between the English and the Scots, three things had guided her decisions. First: as a historical journalist, she religiously chronicled all of the events she witnesse
d. The second: she could not change past events. If she attempted anything to materially change the past, her time in William’s arms would come to an abrupt end. And finally, Eva refused to lie to William, which always seemed to land her in more sticky situations than she ever would have dreamed possible.

  But none of that mattered right now. The only man in the thirteenth century or the twenty-first, for that matter, who could rock her world just strode past and gave her a sexy wink.

  “Goodness, Andrew grows paler by the day,” said Lady Murray from behind.

  Eva’s elation immediately ebbed when she turned and regarded her friend’s worried mien. Sir Andrew was injured by a crossbow arrow to the shoulder during the Battle of Stirling Bridge and had suffered since. Worse, the bairn in his wife’s pregnant belly had begun to show. If only Eva could do something to help him—help the pair of them. She patted Lady Christina’s arm. “Today is momentous for him.”

  “Aye, I am ever so proud.”

  “As you should be.” Eva stepped into the aisle and grasped Christina’s hand. “Come, let’s join them.”

  At five-foot eleven, Eva could see over most heads which made it easy for her to pull the petite woman through the throng. Once they squeezed out the thick double doors of the church, she spotted William surrounded by men dressed in more velvet than it would take to stitch together a set of curtains for a theater. She led the gentlewoman off to the side, away from the stream of foot traffic. “Perhaps we should wait here.”

  The lady smoothed her hands over her silk wimple and nodded. “Verra well.”

  Lord Comyn stepped to Eva’s right and folded his arms. “What’s in your purse, lassie?”

  “Pardon?” Eva feigned an exasperated expression. “I have no idea to what you are referring.”

  He smirked. “Och aye, ye do. And whatever it is, I’ve every suspicion ’tisn’t something meant for a house of God.”

  Eva’s chin ticked up. “Are you threatening me, m’lord?”

  Scoffing, he gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Heaven forbid someone threaten William Wallace’s woman.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she glared at him for a moment. Even if he’d seen her take the pictures, he wouldn’t have a clue what she was up to. And she’d turned the flash off. He had absolutely no grounds on which to make any accusations. With a dismissive nod she turned her attention back to Christina.

  “But—” Comyn stepped closer, making the hackles on the back of Eva’s neck stand on end. “One day that big fella will fall out of favor and then a pretty lassie such as yourself willna be so smug.”

  “I beg your pardon, Lord Comyn?” Lady Murray threw her shoulders back. “Ye overinflate your station. Regardless of your noble birth, Miss Eva is the daughter of a knight, and I daresay she ought not be spoken to like a mere commoner.”

  “Not to worry.” Eva flashed a wry grin. “I am very comfortable being identified as among the loyal servants of Scotland. Unlike some high-ranking gentry present whose questionable actions have proved their very hypocrisy, and their willingness to change allegiances on a whim only to protect their personal wealth.”

  “Is all well here?” William’s deep voice rumbled as he climbed the steps toward them, a wary glint in his eyes.

  “Ye’d best put a leash on your barb-tongued wench.” Adjusting his collar, Lord Comyn stretched his neck and strode off.

  With a gasp, Lady Christina drew a hand to her chest. “How discourteous.”

  Wrapping his fingers around the hilt of his dirk, William’s gaze shot to Eva.

  “He’s not worth your ire.” She grabbed William’s arm with an apologetic cringe. “It’s nothing. I baited him, is all. Told him I’d rather mingle with the commoners than a mob of noble hypocrites.”

  Tense as a lion ready to pounce, William glared at Comyn’s retreating form. As the Lord of Badenoch was swallowed by the crowd, Wallace let out a heavy exhale, relaxed his grip and regarded her. “Och, lassie, there’s never a want for a bit o’ excitement when ye’re about.” He placed his palm in the small of her back and turned his lips to her ear. “But regardless, if we werena celebrating with half of Scotland’s nobles, I’d challenge the sputtering hog to a lesson in chivalry.”

  Grinning, Eva leaned into him as they proceeded toward the path to Selkirk Castle. “Aye?” she teased. “A man as reed-thin as Lord Comyn would give you no sport whatsoever.” Her inflection of Auld Scots phrases became stronger by the day.

  Sir Andrew joined them. “Trouble with the Lord of Badenoch?”

  “That man is full of self-importance,” said Lady Christina, placing her palm atop her husband’s offered elbow—the one not in a sling.

  Sir Andrew sighed. “Agreed, but so are over half the gentry in our company.”

  “Well, he’s not worth a second thought.” With a sideways glance, Eva grinned at William. “Besides, this is a momentous occasion, too important to be filled with misgivings about jealous nobility. Tell me, what has Lord Scott ordered for your celebratory dinner?”

  “Anything but swan,” said William with a chuckle. “As I recall, ’tis not your favorite.”

  “Yuck.” Eva made a sour face. “It tastes like fishy mutton.”

  “That it does, though ye use the oddest words, Eva. Yuck?” Lady Christina peeked around her husband. “Wherever do ye come up with them?”

  William grasped Eva’s hand and squeezed. He was the only person in this century who knew the truth about her birthdate being in the year 1988, and even the fearless warrior still had trouble believing it. He needn’t worry, because she had no intention of revealing her secrets to anyone else. Momentarily, she strolled along the wooded path with her friends as if she belonged. “I traveled a great deal with my father. In my experience, I’d say sailors use the most colorful language.”

  William cringed. “Och, dunna tell me ye’ll soon be teaching Lady Murray to talk like a pirate.”

  The lady shook her finger. “Oh no. Miss Eva must spend a month or two with me and I’ll set her to rights.”

  As they moved toward Selkirk Castle, Eva rather liked the idea of spending time with Christina Murray and learning how to be a proper thirteenth-century lady…until her gut squeezed and sank to her toes. Damn. Thoughts of the future always had a way of dampening her enthusiasm.

  ***

  If anything, medieval nobility knew how to throw a party. The great hall hummed with music and laugher, dampened slightly by the landscape tapestries hanging from the thirty-foot walls. Heady smells of roasted lamb laced with port wine and fresh bread overwhelmed Eva’s senses, which had grown somewhat seasoned to many of the less savory odors of humanity deprived of frequent baths and deodorant. Regardless, the delicious aromas wafting from the kitchens in the cellar below made her hunger ravenous.

  The two newly appointed Guardians of Scotland had removed their armor and sat in the highest-ranking positions in the center of the great table on the dais. Eva wasn’t always invited to the high table, but this evening she sat beside William as his special guest and stuffed her face with medieval zealousness.

  William raised his goblet. “My regards to the host. Everything is delicious.”

  “That it is.” Eva tapped her goblet to William’s. “I’ll turn into a pumpkin if I keep feasting like this.”

  “Och, how many times do I have to tell ye to eat when the food’s aplenty? It’ll be winter soon and Scotland’s larders will grow bare afore the green shoots of the harvest again appear.”

  Eva hid her grin behind her goblet and sipped. How marvelous this man. He not only wanted her to put on a little weight, he expected it.

  He leaned closer. “Will ye dance with me this eve?”

  “You mean to waltz?” she chuckled.

  William grinned, tapping her ribs with his elbow. Good Lord, his smile could make a girl’s heart flutter. “I reckon Lady Stewart would collapse with a swooning spell if ye gave her another demonstration of your so-called dance from the Holy Land.”

  �
�Honestly?” The sip of wine nearly blew out Eva’s nose with her stifled laugh. “I thought they enjoyed our performance at Renfrew Castle.”

  “Mayhap for a novelty. Perhaps we should retain your newfangled waltz for behind closed doors.” He fingered her veil. “’Tis about time ye took part in a circle dance like a proper Scottish lassie.”

  “All right, then. Fortunately I now have tailored gowns long enough to hide my feet.”

  He waggled his brows. “A waltzing nymph such as ye should have no problem picking up a few simple antiquated dance steps.”

  “Antiquated?” Across the table, Lady Christina shook her eating knife, albeit delicately. “I’ll say there is nothing antiquated about the new court dances.” She leaned forward and waggled her eyebrows. “And Lord Scott said he brought in minstrels from Glasgow solely for this occasion.”

  “Well, then.” Eva sat taller. “I hope you will help me stumble along, for I haven’t had the opportunity to dance in eons.”

  The lady clapped her hands. “Oh, this will be fun.”

  Eva tipped up her goblet and drained the rest of her wine. She’d need a wee buzz to endure the next hour’s entertainment.

  ***

  Leading Eva to the dance floor, William’s feet skimmed the boards as if he floated slightly above it. Never in his seven and twenty years had he dreamed he’d be Scotland’s Guardian. So much had happened in the past year, it all seemed like a blur.

  He’d only set out to defend his Kingdom against anarchy—to be one of many who took up their swords. Enraged at Edward Plantagenet’s invasion of Scotland, William could no longer remain cloistered behind the walls of Dundee and pray. Both he and John Blair had been trained as Templar knights and, together, they swore an oath to protect the Kingdom and formed a militia.

  At first they fought the English interlopers with carefully planned raids, lying in wait for garrisons to pass. With a score of men, they acted like highwaymen and lived in a cave in Leglen Wood. It was then—only five or six months past that he’d rescued Miss Eva from an English swordsman.