Free Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1) by Amy Jarecki Page A

for Miss Eva and find her some bedclothes.” He panned his gaze across the faces of his men. “The lass is under my protection. If anyone dare lay a hand on her, he’ll answer to me.”
    She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with firelight—yet they expressed undue sadness—the same grief clamping his heart like a vise. “Thank you.”
    Blast it. Why does she have to be so damned bonny? “Ye should have gone on posing as a lad. Now ye’ll have half the men wanting to court ye.”
    She brushed her hands over her skirts. “As I recall, it was you who insisted I don a gown.”
    “Aye, but ye didna tell me how fetching ye’d look.”
    She drew a hand over her mouth as if stifling a grin. “I could use a bath, a comb and something with which to clean my teeth. Only then will I be somewhat presentable.”
    “Bah.” William sat in Robbie’s place. “I’ve been thinking.”
    “Oh?” Those damnable red eyebrows arched.
    He’d started, so he might as well blurt out what he’d come over to say. “Ye should remain at Ellerslie until I can find a place for ye. Ye’ll have Uncle Reginald’s protection—and ye’ll not starve.”
    She looked at him with a pointed stare. “Are you staying?”
    “Nay, lass. Not while my father’s murderer runs free.”
    “But I’m here to write your story.” She crossed her defiant arms—far too self-assured for a woman. “I’m certain of it. How can I observe if I am tucked away on a croft?”
    Oh no, he wasn’t about to let a wench gain the upper hand. “As I said afore, no woman should be riding with a mob of rebels.”
    She had the gall to raise her chin and look him in the eye. “What about a lad?”
    “Och, ye dunna make a convincing lad, especially with the way ye squeal.” He leaned in to her and lowered his voice. “If the times were different, I’d court ye myself.”
    Eva’s gaze softened and drifted down his body, the tip of her tongue moistening the corner of her mouth. “If only we weren’t worlds apart.”

Chapter Seven
     
     
    Eva awoke with a start. Chilled to the bone, her hip had pushed a hole through the straw and ground into the packed earth beneath the pallet Robbie had fashioned. Positive she had a bruise, she rubbed the sore spot and sat up. Shrouded in midnight hues, she could barely see the stall gate. Of all the conveniences in the modern world, she missed electricity the most—then running water, a mattress, her car, men without knives and swords strapped to their bodies…the list went on.
    The blanket dropped to her waist and she added central heating to the litany.
    She pulled a bit of straw from her hair and stifled a sneeze. Lord, she thought she’d had it rough living in a caravan at the dig site? What she wouldn’t give for a night on that foam mattress without barn smells tickling her nose.
    She startled when a lamenting noise came from near the stall’s gate. Initially, it didn’t sound human. But gradually the deep wail grew louder. Eva leaned toward it. Someone’s trying not to cry .
    Crawling to the gate, she unfastened the hook. The blasted thing swung back. Before she could skitter aside, a man fell into her, so large Eva crashed to her back, sprawling on the dirt floor.
    “Jeez.”
    An eerie ray of light shone into the stall.
    “William?”
    He quickly sat up and swiped his hand across his eyes. “Forgive me. I did not intend to wake ye.” Ever the guardian, he’d been watching her door.
    “No, I was awake.” Eva kneeled beside him. “I have nightmares and wake up in a sweat nearly every night.” Rocking forward, she peered down the corridor. Good, no one had seen them.
    He squared his shoulders. “Ye as well?”
    “Aye,” she said, settling more into her native brogue, which was still a far cry from Auld Scots. “I’m haunted by knives and swords.”
    He dragged his fingers through his hair. “And I am haunted by all the faces of the weak and dying.”
    She shuddered. “I don’t know which is