Knight Errant: A Highland Passage Novel (7 page)

“For years, people have speculated about the secrets of the Templars, never guessing that the greatest secret had naught to do with treasure or wealth. It was knowledge passed down through the ages.” He peered into Robert’s eyes. “They knew the secret of traveling through time.”

Robert shook his head. It was madness.

“What better way for the Templars to control the world than by being able to travel backward and forward through time? The Templar treasures were the least of it. Think of the power and influence they could exert.”

“And the scroll?” asked Robert.

“I don’t know all of its secrets, but I believe it could be a sort of map. I believe there must be stone structures scattered in key places throughout the world, and one of those places is the Dragon Hole outside of the city. Your mother appeared there and found her way to us from the year of our Lord 1307.”

Robert shook his head. It could not be true. But one morning, when the sun shone brightly, he set out for the cave and soon found himself hundreds of years in the future in a land called New York.

THE SECRET SCROLL

A
fter a night of fitful sleep in the monastery, Violet went to breakfast with the monks. She didn’t see Robert there, which left her more disappointed than she cared to admit. After breakfast, she went to his room. When he wasn’t there, she grew uneasy and went to the stables. His horse was gone. Growing concerned, she looked about and found a stable boy who couldn’t have been older than ten. He admitted that he had seen Robert ride away.

“When?”

“Before dawn, mistress.”

Violet looked at the horses with no small amount of fear. Knowing that she would be safe here, he had left her alone. What choice did she have? She could find him, which was highly unlikely, or she could stay and make a life with the monks, which was even less likely. If he didn’t return—and she doubted she would—there was no point in lingering here. She would have to ride back to the cave.

“Would you saddle a horse for me, please?” she asked.

With wide eyes, the boy said, “Oh, mistress, I cannae do that.”

“Yes, you can, and I need you to do it right now.”

He looked down. “I’m sorry. I cannae. He said—”

“Who?”

The boy lifted timid eyes. “Sir Robert. He told me I wasnae to let you near a horse.”

“Oh, did he?” That provoked Violet’s ire, but she tamped it down, for it wasn’t the boy’s fault. With forced calm, she said, “Did he say where he was going?”

The boy shook his head. “I’m sorry, mistress. I was mucking the stalls, and he paid me no heed when he left.”

She let out a frustrated cry. Robert had left her alone with no assurance that he’d return. The boy’s eyes opened wide with distress.

The sight tugged at her heart, for she knew she had caused it. “I'm sorry. What’s your name?”

“Will.”

She smiled softly. “I’m sorry, Will. You’ve been very nice, and I haven’t. Please forgive me.”

A smile bloomed on his face. “Oh, no, mistress. You’ve no need to be sorry.”

“Tell me, did he happen to say anything else?”

“No. Well, I think he said something about coming back tonight.” The boy frowned, still trying to remember.

Violet’s mouth hung agape at that key bit of information, until she remembered herself and gave him a warm smile. “Thank you, Will.”

A monk came around the corner and joined them. “May I help you, mistress?”

Violet shook her head. “No, I was just talking with Will.”

The monk nodded. “Well, when you’re finished, the lad has work to do.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry.”

The monk turned away, and she made a face that drew a smile from the boy.

She whispered, “Thank you.”

“Aye, mistress.”

She walked away, thinking only of where he could have gone. If she knew the area, she might be able to catch up with him, but she did not. Nor did she know how to saddle a horse, let alone ride off in search of him. With a sigh, Violet realized there was nothing she could do except wait. He was gone, and she was trapped, forced to wait for him to return—if he returned. For if he felt the need to leave her behind, he might have been expecting some danger. She was safer here, as was he without her—wherever he was. She hated to admit it, but he may have done the wisest thing. Her presence might have prompted him to protect her at the cost of his life.

And so, restless, Violet walked around the monastery grounds then went to her cell. It might have been nice if he had let her know what his plans were. How could he not know she would worry? But then, why should he keep her apprised of his actions? She was the one who had put distance between them. Was it fair to resent him for honoring her wishes? But he was out there somewhere, with the scroll that had some sort of value, and where there was value, there would always be people who wanted it for themselves.

L
ATE AFTERNOON SUN
filtered in through her small window. Violet bolted upright on her cot, disoriented. She had dozed off. The events of the past two days had caught up with her. But what had woken her was a commotion of scraping feet and bumps on the wall from Robert’s cell. She was on her way to the door when someone knocked on it. She opened the door to find one of the monks with an urgent expression.

“I’ve been sent to fetch you,” he said.

She followed him next door to find Robert on the cot, leaning back against the wall and barely conscious.

“What’s happened?” Violet rushed toward him, but the monk who had fetched her held her back.

A second monk held Robert while he vomited into a pail. “He was attacked riding out of the city.”

“It was only a scratch,” Robert protested.

“Aye, but your skin’s cool and clammy, and your heart’s racing.” The monk turned to Violet. “The blade must have been poisoned. They waited until he was out of the city to strike.” The monk helped Robert lie down on his pillow.

Robert struggled to breathe. Violet broke free of the monk holding her shoulders and went to Robert’s side.

“My quiver. Where is it?” he said between breaths.

“Where’s the quiver?” Violet looked from one monk to the other.

The one by the door nodded toward the bed. Violet looked underneath it.

“He has no use for it now,” said the second monk as he wiped Robert’s brow.

Violet tossed him a burning look then put the quiver under Robert’s blanket. “It’s here, right beside you.”

Relieved, Robert let his eyes close.

The monk shrugged impatiently. “A shopkeeper found it beside him.”

His words ended abruptly when Robert grabbed the pail and was violently ill.

When he could speak, Robert said, “Violet.” He searched about until his eyes settled on her. “You’re safe.”

Violet grasped his hand and sat beside him, confused. “Yes, I’ve been here all day, safe and sound.”

Robert sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. “I was worried about you.”

“About me?”

He grasped her hand weakly. “After they attacked me, I thought they might have done something to hurt you too.”

The monk beside Violet said, “Nae doubt they were expecting you to collapse well past the city.”

“I came back for Violet.”

Violet shook her head. “I’m safe. Please don’t worry about me.”

Robert pulled her close enough to whisper into her ear, “Be on your guard, lass. You may not be safe here. As soon as I’m able, we’re leaving. Be ready. Until then, you’re no safer than I.” With a cautious look, he released her to sit back up. He tried to get up but leaned back again.

Violet dabbed a cool, damp cloth on his forehead. “Rest now. We’ll talk later.”

His eyes closed.

One of the monks touched her shoulder and beckoned for her to follow him. In the corridor outside Robert’s room, he spoke in hushed tones. “He must have kent he was poisoned and come back for help. He slid off his horse in a close outside a shop, where the shopkeeper found him and sent word to us.”

Violet spoke softly. “Will he recover?”

“I dinnae ken. It is up to God now.”

God was fine, but she wouldn’t mind bringing in a modern doctor for a consult. But that couldn’t be, so she went back inside and sat beside Robert while he slept. He was fitful. She blotted beads of sweat from his forehead. The monks went to supper and left her to tend to him, provided a monk remained with them for the sake of propriety, or so she assumed. After what Robert had said, she doubted the motives of everyone around them.

Violet Quinn was a practical woman. As an accountant, she did her best work with numbers and logical patterns. There was an inherent order to numbers that could always be relied upon. They could be managed and balanced until everything fell into place. She liked order in her life. That wasn’t to say that she had no feelings, but she always felt best when her emotions were under control. But now she had lost all control. She found herself in a place where nothing made sense. Her journey through time had disrupted her sense of balance—both physical and emotional—and with what little remained, Sir Robert de Mallay had finished the job. He made everything else seem unimportant, which was why she needed more distance between them. She needed her head clear to think. But he was sick and in need of her help. He trusted her, and she wouldn’t let him down.

To his credit, Robert had been quick to receive the message that they would be no more than travel companions. It was Violet who couldn’t seem to live with her decision. Something inside her came to life in his presence. The sound of his voice drew her notice to the exclusion of others, and when he was in sight, every gesture, no matter how slight, enthralled her, for it was all part of him. She couldn’t get enough of his presence, or touch, or the way that he listened and respected her wishes—such as when she asked him to leave her alone. Well, he hadn’t done so well with that, but no one was perfect.

Violet whispered his name. She lifted his hand to her cheek. “Come back.”

A soft sound came from his throat. She looked up. His eyelashes flickered then closed. Violet brushed the damp hair from his forehead then blew softly on his feverish brow.

They were never alone. She had tried to persuade the monks to go on with their usual duties, but the issue was nonnegotiable. Despite that, she wouldn’t leave his side. So a monk sat in the chair, and she sat on the floor beside Robert’s cot.

In the gray haze before dawn, she succumbed to her feelings. How could she deny that she cared? She had pushed him away because of her feelings for him, and it had worked. She had regained a sense of control over her emotions but at what cost? Would she miss out on a chance—perhaps her only one—to know love? No matter how short, this time could have been theirs. The thought brought tears to her eyes. She had wept when Jack had betrayed her, which was more than he had ever deserved. But this man deserved her tears and more. Her heart was so full of him that she could no longer hide from the truth. With a soft smile, she whispered his name.

“Don’t leave me.” She laid her head on the edge of his bed, and she wept.

A hand touched her head. Violet looked up to find Robert watching her. She clutched his hand and kissed it then rose to her knees and touched his forehead and face. Smiling through her tears, she looked at the monk then back at Robert, whose gaze rested on her.

“You’ve come back!” she said.

He tried to smile. “Are you weeping for me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” But she knew the relief in her eyes belied her words.

He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. She held his hand to her cheek, gazing into his eyes with unguarded affection. The corner of his mouth turned up a bit, then his eyes closed and he went back to sleep.

Monks came in and out through the day, checking on Robert as he slept, then speaking outside the room in hushed tones. At first Violet paid them no heed, caring little about their medical opinions—except to be ready to step in if they thought about doing something like bleeding him. But with increasing concern, she noticed their talk growing quieter, more urgent, and more secretive. Something was wrong, and whatever it was, they were not telling her.

When Robert woke next, one of the monks brushed past her and sat beside him. He spoke in tones too quiet for Violet to hear.

When he had left, Robert looked at Violet and forced a weak smile. “Would you fancy a walk?”

“You can barely sit up.” The fact that he even suggested it made her question how lucid he was.

His eyes narrowed. “A walk in the courtyard would do me good.” He slung the quiver containing the scroll over his shoulder. It hadn’t left his side since he had returned.

When he struggled to rise, Violet leaned down and whispered, “Have you lost your mind?” She took hold of his arm and helped pull him up.

Once standing, he smiled, leaned close, and spoke quietly. “We cannae talk here. Help me walk outside.”

They passed two monks and walked through a stone arch to the courtyard. Violet helped ease him onto a stone bench.

“We must leave here tonight,” he said.

Violet shook her head. “No, you’re not strong enough yet.”

He whispered, “But I will be alive—as will you. If we stay, neither of us will be for long.”

Her eyes opened wide. Robert chuckled and cast a furtive glance toward a monk who was looking their way.

“Smile,” Robert said. “Now lean over and whisper to me.”

Violet did as she was asked. “You are scaring the crap out of me.”

Robert laughed with what looked like genuine enjoyment, then he said softly, “I’m quite sure Henry knew the two men who attacked us and killed him.”

“How do you know that?”

“After we arrived, two monks were sent to Perth to give Henry a proper burial. They found him where we’d left him, his throat cut ear-to-ear. But before they arrived, someone had gone back and cut off his hands and his feet.”

“Why?”

“’Tis a Jesuit act against those who have betrayed them,” Robert said.

“Henry?”

“Aye. He may have been planted to spy, or to find something they want.”

Violet nodded. “Like the scroll.”