Knight Errant: A Highland Passage Novel (4 page)

They arrived at the clearing, where he made a noise that drew his horse to him. That impressed Violet.

“Up you go,” he said.

“Do you think I'll obey like your horse?”

“No.” He looked angry. “Mistress—”

“Violet.”

He glanced up, averting his frustration. “I’m trying to help you, but I need you to trust me.”

Everything she saw in his gentle gray eyes told her that he was honorable, but she had made that mistake before. “I'm sorry. I can't.”

“Violet.”

But she did like the sound of her name when he said it.

He took hold of her shoulders. “Listen to me.”

Between the sound of her name when he said it and the warmth of his touch, he had her attention. She looked at him with her cool, corporate gaze, but faced with his earnest kindness, her veneer faltered.

He moved closer and spoke with a firm, even tone. “Let me help you.”

“What can you do that I can’t do for myself?”

“I can guard you with my life, and I will, if you’ll let me.”

Violet looked down to hide how he had broken through her defenses. Against her better judgment, she found herself trusting him. He lifted her chin. For his trouble, she managed a blank stare.

He spoke in a hushed tone. “Violet.”

How did he do that? Simply by saying her name, he made her heart skip a beat. And her eyes were now stinging with tears.
Oh, great—cry, why don’t you. That’ll teach him.

When he failed to continue, she did her best to sound impatient. “What?”

He leaned so close that she felt his warm breath on her cheek. “Will you allow me to help you?”

Violet lifted her eyes and looked squarely at him. With a sigh, she said, “Okay.”

He registered a fleeting moment of surprise at her acquiescence then nodded. “Good.”

Violet gave a firm nod but averted her eyes. Despite her best efforts, each time their eyes met, she felt as though he caught a glimpse of her heart, and that heart was too vulnerable right now to be glimpsed. For all of his talk about protecting her from his world, who would protect her from him?

The rest of the evening was taken up with a supper of bread and bannocks he had brought with him. He wouldn’t light a fire, lest they be discovered, so they ate in cold silence.

Unable to bear it any longer, Violet said, “So you visited New York in my time?”

“Aye.”

She waited, but he offered no more. “And ate pizza. What else did you do?”

“Two policemen stopped to talk with me. Someone, it seems, had seen me walk by and, for some reason, found my sword threatening, even though it was sheathed.”

Violet smiled. “So they called the police. Did they take you to jail?”

“No, but they did take my sword. Then they took me to a place called a shelter. It was run by a kirk, and they let me stay there and work.”

“For how long?”

Robert shrugged and combed his fingers through his hair. “Och, I dinnae ken. More than a fortnight, I believe.”

Violet leaned closer. “What made you return to your own time?”

“I went to a library.”

Violet smiled to imagine what a first visit to the library must have been like.

“Aye. I found a book there about Scotland that foretold the future—my future, your history. When I read what would happen in my time, I had to come back.”

Violet wished she had been a better history student. “What happened?”

“You lived part of it today. John Knox is leading the country into a religious reformation. And because of what happened today, there’s something I must do.”

Violet was curious, so when he didn’t elaborate, she said, “Well? What is it?”

Robert looked at the city with a faraway look in his eyes. Torn from his thoughts, he shook his head. “I cannae tell you.”

“Because then you'd have to kill me?”

Robert looked insulted. “What sort of man do you think I am?”

She laughed and patted his arm. “I was joking!” She thought she saw him flinch when she touched him, but it was so slight, she decided that she had imagined it. “Does it have something to do with those priests who attacked us?”

He took a moment to consider. “Perhaps. I cannae help but wonder if Henry had something to do with what happened today.”

Violet studied him. “But they were priests.”

“Aye, priests who want something I’ve got.” He shrugged off the thought. “Dinnae fear, lass. I’ll keep you safe.”

The fierce resolve in his eyes convinced her that he would. “Okay.” She couldn’t help but wonder over his dogged concern for her welfare, yet she had seen just how brutal a place this could be. Her typical response to stress was to make light of it, but his Scotland would prove her undoing. Although she had tried to block it out, visions of Henry’s death flashed before her like a series of horrific still images.

Abruptly, Robert got up and went to his horse. “We'd best get some sleep.”

He had one blanket, and he gave it to her. Violet offered to share it.

He looked sternly at her and said, “No, it wouldnae be proper.”

“It’s just a blanket. I wasn’t offering to share anything else.” Violet's annoyance was lost in the gray twilight mist.

“Good night.” With that, Robert walked a good dozen paces away—no doubt to avoid her dreaded womanly wiles—and lay down and slept almost immediately.

She grew to resent that over the next several hours, when sleep didn’t come as easily to her. As she lay awake, thoughts of Jack came back to haunt her.
Six months of my life wasted.
She had seen signs that things weren’t right, but she had dismissed them as nothing to worry about because that was what she wanted to believe. The late nights “working,” the hushed phone calls he told her were business. Women hovered like moths about him, and he made no pretense of not noticing them. With the flash of his smile or a glance, they were dazzled—as Violet had been. At the same time, he had grown more demanding of her, claiming she didn’t love him. Nothing she gave him was ever enough, but she tried with what love she could offer.

The whole thing between them had flared up so fast, and from the start, it was thrilling and hot. But even back then, he confused her. She’d tamped down her doubts and gone on because she thought they were falling in love. All relationships went through the strain of learning about one another and finding out how to make two lives work in sync. She thought they would find their way through. When her business trip came, she was partly relieved for the break. It gave her time to think and conclude that some changes were needed. Still, she believed they could work it all out. And then she came home.

For all of his fire and passion, Jack's heart was a shell made of ashes. One touch, and it crumbled to dust, leaving her feeling bitter and used—and yet wiser. She now knew the difference between lust and love.

“So that happened,” she whispered to herself. “But it won't happen ever again.”

All she wanted was to be home. She longed to curl up in a blanket on her bed—no, on her sofa. She wouldn’t touch that bed. She would order a new bed, and when it was delivered, she would pay the delivery men whatever it took to make that old bed disappear. So back to her sofa. She would curl up with her favorite down pillow and cry—which she couldn’t seem to do now.

A snort startled her. Was Sir Robert snoring? Violet smiled. Well, so much for Prince—or Sir, rather—Charming. Talk about tragic flaws. And his nose was a little bit crooked—probably broken in battle while gallantly wielding a weapon against some villainous foe. She smiled yet again. What was it about him that made her do that—and a little too often? She sighed. There was no use in wondering, because she would be leaving for home at her next opportunity—which was when? She could see Perth from here, and she knew where the cave was. In spite of his chivalrous offer of help, she could be home much sooner if she went back to the cave on her own. Why tag along after Robert on his noble knight’s mission, or whatever it was he seemed bound to do before he would take her to the cave? He could save mankind without her. Sure, the climb would be rough, thanks to her fear of heights. It's an irrational fear, she reminded herself. Yet it seemed natural enough, when the cave was hundreds of feet above the ground, to feel certain reluctance toward going from one to the other. She took a breath and exhaled.
If this is what I have to do to go home, then I'll do it.

Violet stood and set out for the cave. She thought of the dress Robert had, well, stolen for her. For an instant, she thought about going back for it, but even if she managed to get it without waking Robert, the thick folds of fabric would hinder her climbing. After that, she would have no need of it. It was dark anyway. No one would see her. So she continued, leaving behind the gown. And Robert.

A MATTER OF CHIVALRY

R
obert opened his eyes. At first he thought Violet was going a discreet distance away to relieve herself, but the footsteps continued. Wincing, he sat up and wearily watched her, the full moon lighting her way. A moment passed as he thought about letting her go. She had become a distraction from the mission he had sworn to fulfill. Yet he had promised to protect her, and he was a man of honor—not that she cared about that. She wanted no help. That much was clear. But she had no idea what hazards loomed for her.

Minutes later, he was on horseback, taking his time descending toward the city. There was no need to hurry. He knew where she was going, and he could still see her shadowy figure in the moonlight. Dressed in her modern attire, she was certain to draw notice. Who else would look after her, let alone understand her, as he could? He was duty-bound to keep safe this young woman from the future. This very appealing young woman, thought the monk. Would-be monk.

In truth, Robert had struggled for years over women—or rather, the prospect of living without them. Raised in a monastery, he had experienced no other life but that of a monk. Until left for battle, he had known little of the world outside the friary. When he had walked among women at market, he had stolen glances and admired their soft skin and womanly curves. He wondered just how those curves would feel to his fingers or pressed against him. He had wondered so much that he frequently took to his knees out of penance. But it did not stop him. That was the one thing that made him doubt whether he could ever vow to be a chaste monk. Still, they were doing God's work, and he had been chosen to carry it on. That was why he was there, they told him. And Robert strove to be worthy.

One spring evening, he had happened to see Brother Thomas emerge from a crypt under the chapel. He carried what looked like a portion of a human skeleton in his hand. Curious, Robert followed him into the workshop where Brother Thomas attended to the holy treasures and relics. Robert watched through a crack between the door hinges as Brother Thomas placed the bone inside a silver reliquary lined with red satin. As the monk turned to leave, Robert stepped behind a pillar. Brother Thomas's robe swished as he passed by.

The following Sunday, Brother Thomas presented the reliquary and its contents—a so-called ancient bone from a saint—to a wealthy benefactor. Robert didn’t hear the name of the saint. All he heard was Brother Thomas's lie ringing in his ears. He left the chapel early and went into the city, away from the lies. Until then Robert had sinned without intent, and it was followed by nagging remorse. But the monks he had always looked up to had deliberately lied without shame. Their lives, Robert's included, were built on those lies, trading false relics for true riches, and all in God's name. Feeling betrayed, his faith shaken, Robert ran away.

Tall, strapping lad that he was, it wasn’t long before he found work in a tavern. There he came to know all about life—and the tavern keeper's daughter. On the first day, he set down a cask, and she smiled at him with a warmth that distracted him from his chores. On the second day, he smiled back. On the third day, she taught him the ways of the world on a bed of fresh hay in the loft of the byre. For days after that, they stole burning glances and found moments and places to release their deep longing. It was bliss.

But one morning, the tavern keeper’s daughter was gone. She returned in the evening a bride. He had heard talk of a wedding, but not knowing whose, he had paid no heed. All along, she had been promised in marriage to a neighboring shopkeeper—an older man who didn’t deserve her. And now she was his. Dressed in a fine gown with rings on her fingers, she caught Robert's gaze for a moment. Then she turned to her husband and gave him the smile that used to be Robert's, and that was the end of it. Robert had once more been betrayed.

The next morning, he returned to Blackfriars.

N
OW HE WAS FOLLOWING
a woman because he had been fool enough to promise to protect her. And why? Because he was a chivalrous knight? Perhaps, but also because of her soft aqua eyes and thick hair he could tangle his fingers within as he breathed in its scent. He could only imagine how her skin would feel against his on a soft bed of hay—God's wounds! When would he learn?

Having closed the distance between them, he arrived at the bridge that crossed over the River Tay. She was halfway across when two men drew close behind her on either side.

Robert approached her on horseback. “Mistress Quinn.”

“Sir Robert!” She looked surprised to see him, but she seemed even more startled to find that two men had joined her.

The taller one gripped her arm. “Step aside, sir. We are taking this indecorous wench to the tollbooth, where she belongs.”

“For what?” Violet tried to yank her arm free, but the shorter one grabbed her other arm and held on.

“I'm afraid you're mistaken.” With one sweeping motion, Robert extended his sword until it touched the taller man's neck.

The man’s companion pulled out a dirk, which Robert intercepted with his foot. His kick made the dirk fly into the water, nicking the short man’s cheek on the way. He cried out, holding his face. The taller man thrust his dirk forward, but Robert turned just in time to slice through the man's sleeve and leave a gash in his arm.