Knight Errant: A Highland Passage Novel (3 page)

Violet clung to the saddle as Robert pulled an arrow from his quiver and turned to shoot at the oncoming riders.

“Leave it!” Robert cried to Henry.

Ignoring him, Henry slipped from his horse and grasped hold of the chalice. As he turned to put the chalice back in its sack, an arrow struck him in the back. His back arched as he gripped the saddle, gasping. He turned to face his attackers. With labored breathing, he reached toward them and opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came forth. He drew his sword and made a few feeble swipes and thrusts as the riders overtook him.

Robert leaned over Violet. “Stay down.”

She clung, trembling, to the saddle while Robert leapt to the ground, sword in hand. Only then did she notice that the two men wore black priests’ cassocks. One came at Robert with a dagger while the other swung a sword and sliced Henry's neck from ear to ear. Violet tried not to gasp as blood sprayed the swordsman.

The two men then leapt onto their horses and rode away, leaving Violet watching them, stunned. A man had just been brutally killed before her. What sort of a world had she come to if that was the norm?

“Are you all right?” Robert asked softly.

She nodded, although she was as far from all right as she had ever been.

“Take Henry's horse.”

Violet stared at him in disbelief.

Robert waved her toward the horse. “Go on.”

“You want me to ride that?”

Robert sheathed his sword and looked at her. “Aye.”

“By myself?”

He drew back, frowning. “Do you not ken how to ride?”

“No.” She saw his disappointment.

“You'll catch on.”

“No, I won't.”

“I can teach you.”

Violet shook her head.

Robert studied her for a moment. “First cliffs, now horses; you're a skittish lass, aren't you?”

While she did not appreciate his characterization of her, there wasn’t much she could say to rebut it. He left her searching for words and went over to Henry’s horse. He said something too quiet to hear and gave it a smack on the rump to send it back toward the friary.

Violet said, “Henry died for those treasures.”

“Aye, and that's one person too many. Let them have their bag of trinkets. I'll not die for them, and neither will you.” He took her arm and led her to his horse. Without a word, he helped her up then mounted behind her and rode toward the hills.

Violet's head swam for a moment, and she swayed. Robert must have felt it, for he put one arm about her waist and held her against him. He was stable and sure, neither of which she was. Perhaps, for now, it was enough that they were alive and riding into the cool, bracing mist.

CROSS PURPOSES

A
small stream wended down a cleft in the hills. They stopped to give the horse water, food, and some rest. Exhausted, Violet drank some water and, in lieu of a highway rest stop, found a tree she could hide behind to take care of her personal needs. After the morning she’d had, what did niceties like plumbing matter?

At this point, she wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t in the midst of some sort of psychotic break. Yes, Jack had hurt her—a lot, truth be told—but was it enough to cause this? Perhaps she was subliminally killing off substitute versions of Jack to internally vent her rage over being betrayed? Violet tended to overthink things.

She returned to the clearing to find Robert's horse contentedly eating, but no Robert in sight. Violet lay down on a patch of soft grass and breathed in its sweet scent. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and blocked out the world. She had always slept well under stress. It was her way of coping. She dozed until the grass stirred beside her. She opened her eyes to find Robert seated nearby and studying her.

She sat up abruptly and pushed thick brown waves of hair from her face. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long.” He looked away quickly, as though he hadn’t been watching her. She started to stand, but he touched her arm to stop her. “Rest. We must bide here for a time.” Violet wanted to ask why, but he spoke before she had the chance. “We’ll hide here for the night then head south, passing Perth, in the morning.”

“Passing Perth?”

“Aye.”

“You know, I have been racking my brain trying to think of where that is. Do you mean Perth Amboy? New Jersey?”

He grimaced and gave his head a slight shake. “Scotland.”

“Scotland?”

“Aye.” He tilted his head and looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

She was inclined to agree with him, for how could that be? Of course she had noticed his Scottish accent, but it wasn’t so unusual to hear a variety of accents in the New York area. But there was no Perth in this part of New York, and nothing that she had experienced here could have happened at home.

Even if there were a rational explanation for her being in Scotland, this couldn’t be the Scotland she had visited once. She thought back through all she had seen today. Not once had she seen a car or lights. Everyone had been dressed as though they had jumped out of the past—or she had jumped into it. As the idea sank in, Robert met her confused look with a calm she couldn’t share. Nor could she find words to make sense of it. She had gone beyond shock and felt numb inside.

Robert said, “There is a story that is told around fires on dark nights about a cave overlooking the river that is known as the Dragon Hole. There a dragon once lived. He terrorized the people below until one day a monk named St. Serf went to slay him. He climbed into the cave and confronted the powerful dragon. Praying to God, he was given the power to slay it. As the dragon died, a stone fell from the dragon's forehead. There it lay in the back of the cave for generations, until one day a man named Jamie Keddie happened upon it. He touched the stone and vanished.”

“And your point?” Violet said dryly. When he did not answer, she looked at him. His expression pierced her veneer. She looked away, hoping to hide it.

Robert said, “I’ve been inside that cave, and it took me to your New York.”

“You're as crazy as I am.”

“No, I'm not, and neither are you.”

Violet shook her head. She wouldn’t look at him for fear she might believe him.

He said, “I still long for the pizza.”

“Whose pizza?” Violet narrowed her eyes.

“Ray's.”

She grinned. Of all the things he might have said, that made as much sense as any. The city was peppered with pizzerias all claiming to be the original Ray’s. “But how did you get to New York?”

“'Tis a secret kept by the monks. I cannae say more, for I've taken a vow.”

Violet tried not to groan. “You're a monk?”

“I've spent my life preparing to be one.”

“Of course you have.” Violet hid her disappointment. He would have made such a perfect rebound guy, dammit. How much worse could this day get? “So you've taken a vow to become a monk.”

“No, not yet—just a vow of secrecy.”

“Well, that sounds very ‘tinfoil hat.’” When he failed to react, she said, “Illuminati? Skull and Bones? Knights Templar?”

At the mention of the latter, his eyes widened, but he quickly averted them.

Violet leaned forward. “Get. Out. You are not a Knight Templar!”

“No. I am simply a knight, but my father was a Templar.”

“Does that mean you're
Sir
Robert?”

He offered a humble shrug.

“But the Knights Templar disbanded back in—”

“1307,” he said without hesitation.

“And it's now—”

“1559.” Violet blinked slowly then stared at him until he added, “Today is the eleventh of May in the year of our Lord 1559.”

“And we're in—”

“Scotland.”

“1559 Scotland.” Violet stared toward Perth, unable to fathom what he had just told her.

He looked off into the distance. “My father was a Knight Templar in France. He did many brave and good deeds, but he committed one sin. He fell in love, and the Templars vow to be chaste. The woman he loved was a nun. When the Templars came under attack, my father chose his own penance, but before he did, he saw my mother safely on her way to a megalithic stone structure called a dolmen, which was known to the Templars to have the power to send people through time. With her safely embarked, he faced his accusers. Her journey brought her to the future in Perth, where she found her way to the Blackfriars Monastery. They took her in, and there I grew up.”

Violet reached out to touch him but withdrew her hand. “And your father—do you know what happened to him?”

“He was burned at the stake, along with more than fifty others.” Sir Robert eventually broke the long silence that followed. “And what of you? How did you find your way here?”

Violet's brow creased. “This morning, I caught an early flight home from a business trip to surprise my boyfriend, but he surprised me. He was in bed with some woman.”

“Och, the philandering knave! He’s a whoreson fit only for hell.” He hastened to add, “Forgive me. I spoke without thinking.”

“Oh, believe me, I've called him much worse.” She met his eyes and managed a weak smile that was gone the next moment. “So after that, I left and got caught in the rain. I guess I was struck by lightning. And here I am.” She took in a deep breath and exhaled with despair. “I just want to go home.”

“Aye, lass.” His sad gaze somehow comforted her until she suspected that his sympathy was caused by something he was withholding.

She said firmly, “I have to go back.”

With a slow nod, he said, “Aye, but we cannae go back there—not now.”

Violet wanted to cry. She ached so much that the weight of it kept her tears from flowing. She thought about going alone to the cave—and she would if she had to—but she was afraid of heights. Planes and bridges didn’t bother her, but she had never climbed up so high and so close to the edge. One misplaced step could send her tumbling hundreds of feet to her death. So the truth was, she was hoping that Robert would help her as he had before.

With a deep breath, she assumed her usual false air of assurance that always served her well at the office. “You've been more than kind, but there's no reason for you to come with me. I'll manage alone.”

He looked into her eyes. “I cannae let you go alone either—not now. But I will see that you get there when it’s safe to do so.”

His honest gaze lingered for only a moment, but she felt its effect nonetheless. Life in this time was so harsh one moment, with swords cutting through air and flesh. And yet, in the next moment, people—well, Robert—reached out with a desire to help her that both warmed her and made her uncomfortable. She had trust issues. She could thank Jack for that.

Robert turned away and looked quietly over the city below and the fields beyond. Violet followed his gaze. Setting aside everything that had happened today—and that was a lot—she felt a moment of peace. Robert's calm strength and confidence made her feel as though she could afford a moment or two to regroup.

He glanced at her. “I ken how you must feel, for when I traveled to your time, I had to fend for myself. It was exciting, confusing, and sometimes fearsome. I would not wish that on you.”

“More fearsome than having a man coming at you with a sword?”

“Ah, I understand swords, but your world was so different. Simply crossing the street was a life-threatening ordeal. There were dangers there far worse than swords.”

Violet thought of him wandering through parts of Manhattan. Dressed as he was, he would have been quite a target.

Robert said, “If you had been there with me, I would have trusted you.”

Violet thought about what it would have been like if she had known him then. She would have stayed close beside him to explain things he wouldn’t understand. She lifted her eyes, and those gray eyes drew her in.

“Now I am here with you. Please allow me to keep you safe from harm,” he said.

He didn’t look as though he was trying to persuade her for his own purposes. That was what troubled her. Was he honestly making an offer of help out of kindness? She couldn’t fully believe that.

Violet said, “All I want is to go home and curl up on the couch with a book—and maybe a glass of wine—and a fire in the fireplace. I just want to feel safe.”

“And I want that for you.”

Damn, if he didn't have a gift for making her want to trust him. But that was her weakness. As smart as she was, she believed the best about people. Yet only that morning, she’d had yet another reminder that people didn’t always deserve her faith. She shook her head but could form no more words.

To her surprise, he got up and left her. He just walked into the thicket of trees and leaned his back against a trunk. After she accepted the fact that the conversation was over, she got up and walked in the other direction, which happened to be toward the city. Oh, she got it. Message received. He had made an offer of help out of duty, and now that duty was discharged. She was on her own. She didn’t fault him. She had pushed her luck to the limit. In fact, she respected him for it. But it was time for her to move on and take care of herself. Yes, she was scared of the climb, but she would scale that wall by sheer will.

“Violet!”

“Don't give in,” she said to herself. She had had it with men and emotion. She called, “I’ll be fine.”

Without looking back, she kept walking away. She expected him to argue the point, for it would have been a good one; she was in no way prepared to go anywhere by herself. But instead, he caught up with her and grabbed her arm with a force that spun her around and into his arms. He held her, first with the same strength she had seen him display when he wielded his sword, then it softened into an embrace, and his hands slipped over her back. One hand cradled her head then moved to her cheek. Violet lifted her face. He stared at her, bewildered, then shifted his weight. He grabbed hold of her shoulders and stepped back.

Feeling a bit disconcerted herself, she looked at him with a nervous smile. “You don't really fit the monk profile, do you?”

He displayed no reaction, except to give her a hard, lingering look. Abruptly, he took her wrist and pulled her back toward his horse. “We're leaving.”