Knight Errant: A Highland Passage Novel (6 page)

She kissed him.

FOR WANT OF A MAID

R
obert had kissed women before, and he had thoroughly enjoyed it, but this kiss was different. While he was taking his time to explore just how different it was, she pulled away.

“What’s this? Tears?” He lowered his brow. “And what next, will you clout me?” He smiled.

She glanced at him then cast her eyes downward. “No.”

Robert’s smiled dissolved. “Violet?”

She gave her head a slight shake, and the words poured out. “I’m sorry. I thought I was ready, but I’m not.”

“Ready?” He wanted to say it was only a kiss, but he would have been lying. From the start, he had known that his feelings for her were different from any he had known.

As she turned away to wipe her tears, Violet assumed a practical tone. “Even if I were ready, I’ll be going home soon. There’s no point in complicating things.”

Robert nodded, but he did not agree. She might make sense, but what was life worth without risks? Even so, it was her choice to make, and she clearly had made it. So he wouldn’t argue the point. Besides, he had things to do. Feelings for her would just get in the way. “Very well. We'll not complicate things.”

Her eyes darted up to meet his, but she looked away quickly. “It's better this way.”

With a grunt of agreement, he got up and fetched a blanket for her. “Get some sleep.” He tossed the blanket beside her.

A
FTER A MORNING
of riding on horseback with Violet nestled in his arms, Robert decided he had exercised enough self-control for not only a monk, but he ought to be canonized a saint. He had not once given in to the urge to put his lips, or his hands, anywhere he could reach. But although his conduct had been saintly, his thoughts had not been. He was still a man, after all.

Robert broke a silence that had stretched on for miles. “We must buy you a horse in Edinburgh.”

“I can’t ride. I’ve told you that.”

“I could teach you.”

Violet’s voice sounded strained. “I don’t want to learn.”

“But why?”

“I fell once, okay? And that fall on the bridge didn’t help either.” She sounded as though she was losing her patience. “Look, this was all your idea. I didn’t want to come, so it’s really not fair to blame me for tagging along.”

That was the last thing on his mind. Robert’s eyes trailed down the soft slope of her neck to her shoulders, and he shook his head. Tantalus had nothing on him. Up ahead was a burn where they would stop to water his horse and put Robert anywhere but within reach of Violet.

Once they were stopped, he pulled out the last of the bannocks and offered them to her. When they were both finished eating, he went to his horse and returned with a bundle.

“Put this on.” He dropped it beside her then walked away, sounding gruff. “We’ll be arriving in Edinburgh this afternoon. You’ll need to be properly dressed.”

He went to the burn for some water. When he returned, she was gone.

“Violet? Are you all right?” he called.

From behind some brambles, he heard, “I’m fine. Just give me a minute.”

Robert stood for a while by the horse, then he walked to a nearby tree and leaned, arms folded, waiting. A long while passed. “Are you almost ready?”

“Making progress.” Her voice sounded strained.

Robert sat on a log, growing impatient. When he could stand it no longer, he said, “Come, Violet. We must go now.”

Violet slowly emerged, her face flushed with frustration, clutching her bodice about her with one hand in back and two detached sleeves dangling from the other. Her eyes burned with frustration. “How do women get into these?”

Robert shook his head then dragged his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I dinnae ken. I suppose they have servants to help them.”

“Great. Well, let me know when mine gets here.”

Her hair fell in uncombed tangles over her shoulders. The wind caught her skirts, and the bodice was crooked. Robert wanted to smile, but her glaring eyes stopped him.

His eyes betrayed only a hint of amusement. “Would you like me to help you?”

“No.” She looked away long enough to roll her eyes. “But I haven’t much choice, have I?”

He went to her and turned her around. She had fastened a few of the bodice hooks at the waist, so all he needed to do was fasten the rest, which he started to do. His fingertips brushed her skin, soft as satin. She had no shift on underneath, for he’d taken none for her. His eyes swept over the trail of skin between the rows of unfastened hooks and eyes.

She turned partway around. “Is everything okay back there?”

Brought back from his reverie, he said, “Aye. I’m just trying to—”
Do something other than touch your bare skin.
“I'm trying to line up the hooks with the eyes. Ah, here we are.” He worked quickly to fasten her up before he succumbed to an opposite urge. “There.” He turned her about. “Now for the sleeves.” With those tied in place, he stepped backward to appraise his work.

When he failed to utter a word, Violet gave him a questioning look. “Well?”

With a perfunctory nod, he said, “Fine.” She looked beguiling—more so than was good for either of them. “See what you can do with that hair,” he muttered as he turned and went to his horse.

“Do with it? Like what?”

He waved his wrist. “Confine it somehow.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes. They had agreed to keep their feelings in check, and his clearly were not. He tried to force his thoughts elsewhere and failed.
The unfastened bodice. The soft skin inside it.
They would dispose of the dress as soon as they reached Edinburgh. Not only was it too enticing on her but it was red, which, under the sumptuary laws, should only be worn by the upper classes. Even if he could pass her off as a foreign aristocrat, as bonny as she looked, she would draw too much attention. They needed to blend in, so that would not do. As soon as he could, he would get her something else to wear—something shapeless and drab would be nice. But no clothing was plain enough to quell what he felt for her at the moment.

T
RUE TO HIS PLAN
, their first stop after arriving in Edinburgh was a shop just off the High Street, where Robert bought Violet some clothing, complete with proper undergarments and a bodice that laced up the front, so she could dress herself without his help. He could not very well leave her outside while he shopped, so he told the shopkeeper that Violet was mute to avoid exposing her telltale modern American speech. He claimed the clothes were for a servant and was thankful the shop owner was discreet enough not to ask why he hadn’t sent the servant to fetch her own clothing.

They made their way next to the Blackfriars Monastery, where they were taken in. A monk escorted them to rooms they referred to as cells. They had missed supper but were brought porridge to eat in their cells. After making quick work of the porridge, Robert lay on his cot. He was exhausted and hoping to rest, but thoughts of Violet on the other side of the wall interfered with his plans. As dusk settled, a monk came to escort him to vespers. They stopped at Violet's cell, and she emerged dressed in her new peasant clothing of muted earth hues.

When Robert stared for far too long, she touched her shoulders and looked down to smooth out her skirts. “Have I done something wrong? Do I look all right?”

“Aye,” he said gruffly and walked away.

“Gee, thanks,” she muttered.

Once vespers began, Robert found himself soothed by the music, at home in the familiar routine, until he saw Violet looking at him with a look he couldn’t quite decipher. He leaned closer.

“I’m not Catholic,” she whispered. “What do I do?”

He leaned close to her ear. “Follow me.”

That forced him to be aware of her for the purpose of easing her discomfort, thus increasing his. She watched him and followed his lead, kneeling and standing whenever he did, and when it was over, she touched his arm lightly and thanked him.

After that, they were parted. One monk led her to her cell while another led Robert away. The abbot had summoned him.

T
HE ABBOT HAD
delicate features and a quiet manner that put Robert at ease. A well-traveled man, the abbot now sounded more English than Scottish. He had just offered Robert a seat when a quiet knock at the door interrupted their light conversation. A monk brought in Robert’s quiver containing the scroll and handed it to the abbot, who ignored a sharp look from Robert and turned it over, examining it.

“When I was in Perth, a young nun lived at the Blackfriars Monastery. Sister Claudine.” The abbot paused, almost smiling. He looked at Robert and went on. “She worked in the garden, and she would talk with the monks while they worked. One monk, in particular, found himself drawn to her. He supposed she was lonely and needed a friend, which he was glad to be. But when he spied her behind a tree, being sick, he worried. Some days later, on a warm afternoon, she suffered a fainting spell. The monk rushed to her aid. As he helped her up, he put his arms about her waist, and there was no doubt that she was with child. Then she confided in him, telling this story.

“Long ago, in the days of the Templars, a young knight broke his vow to be chaste, and the woman he loved was a nun who had taken a vow of her own. Overcome by their love, they gave in to their desires.

“When King Philip IV rounded up Templars for execution, many scattered. But the knight wouldn’t leave his beloved behind, so he stayed with her, risking his life. The other Templars took all of the treasures with them, except for one item. They had overlooked a linen scroll that lay in the chapel behind the altar. It held secrets, that much the knight knew, although he didn’t know how to read it. But he knew one thing: the scroll had to be kept from King Philip. To do that, the monk would have to leave and return later to his love.

“Faced with losing her knight, the nun agreed to leave with him and begin a life together. But as they were preparing to flee, the king’s men broke in. The knight wouldn’t leave without the scroll, so he went back to the altar to retrieve it. He had hidden it inside a quiver to protect it from harm. He was on his way out of the chapel when the king’s men saw him and called out. He stopped in the doorway and, unseen, gave the quiver to Sister Claudine.

“‘If anything happens to me, keep this safe,’ he told her. ‘It belongs to the Templars. Return it to them when you're able.’

“The footsteps of the king's men drew near. The knight opened a wooden panel in the wall, revealing a secret passage leading out of the monastery. With haste, he guided her into the passageway. ‘Go to the dolmen where we used to meet, and wait for me there.’

“She turned back to him. ‘Not without you.’

“He fixed his eyes upon her and closed the passageway panel as the king’s men entered the room.

“She did as he told her and went to the dolmen, but he never arrived to join her. One morning, she awoke in the brilliant sunlight to find herself in a cave outside Perth, more than two hundred years later. She found her way to the Blackfriars Monastery in Perth, where she was taken in.

“On a rare cloudless night, stars peppered a sky of black velvet. Nearly lost in their midst was the faint silver curve of the moon. As Sister Claudine looked up and dreamt of the knight she had lost, she felt a twinge of pain, but it left just as quickly. When the pain kept returning, she walked down the corridor and found her friend, the monk. She spoke softly to him. He took her back to her cell. Once there, she showed him the scroll and asked him to keep it safe for her child if anything happened to her. He dismissed her pleas as the ravings of a woman in pain. She made him promise to safeguard the only legacy she had to give to her child. She said if anything threatened the scroll, it was to be taken to Roslin. The Earl of St. Clair would know what to do.”

Robert went to the window and looked out while he tamped down his emotions.

The abbot went on. “In the quiet hours before dawn, after the stars in the night sky had faded from view, she gave birth to a son. She did not live to see the sun rise. You know this story?”

With a backward glance toward the abbot, Robert said, “Aye. Brother Thomas has told it to me.”

The abbot fixed his eyes on the scroll coiled inside the quiver. “Shortly after your birth, the scroll disappeared. I had not seen it since, until now. It was her wish for us to raise you, which we have done. The Blackfriars have watched over you and will continue to do so. You are not alone.”

Robert turned from the window.

“Have you looked at it?” Father Abbot reached inside as though he might remove the scroll, but he glanced up at Robert and stopped.

“Once.” Before going on, Robert extended his hand with a questioning look, and the abbot handed the quiver to him. “But I didnae ken what it meant, nor was I ever supposed to. I'm to pass the scroll on. I'm no more than a messenger, really.” He met the Abbot’s knowing gaze as he slung it over his shoulder. “I’m on my way to deliver it.”

“Ah, well, I’ll not keep you. May God speed you on your way, lad.” He clasped Robert’s hand.

“Thank you, Father Abbot.”

Once back in his cell, Robert thought of the abbot’s story, which he had heard before. But there was more to it than the abbot had told him.

A
FTER
R
OBERT HAD RETURNED
from his days of rebellion in Perth, he had confronted Brother Thomas about the false relics, and Thomas admitted to what Robert had seen.

“I am not proud of it, lad, but we need the funds for God’s work.”

“Could God not provide the funds for you?”

“God gives us the ability to provide for ourselves.”

“By lying and cheating?” Robert asked.

“To accomplish God's work.”

They argued in circles for the rest of the evening. In the end, Brother Thomas agreed, to a point, but he said it was the way of the world. If they did it to serve God, then what was the harm? But Robert’s faith was harmed, and it would never again be the same.

As the months passed, they put their disagreement aside and grew closer again. One day, Robert was helping Thomas dust the relics. When they were finished, Brother Thomas told Robert to sit down. He proceeded to tell Robert a fanciful story about travel through time. He had always told Robert his mother had come from another place and time, but Robert had dismissed it as a tale meant to make a lonely young child feel better.