To Tempt a Knight (25 page)

Another rustle sounded behind him.

His hand slid to the hilt of his sword. He turned to look behind him once more.

Nothing moved. Nothing stirred. Even the wind had died down for the moment.

“Who are you to blame me?” A voice came from the tree to his left, but there was no one there.

Navarre frowned. “Show yourself.”

“I am everywhere, and I am nowhere,” the voice came again.

Fear brought a chill to his flesh. “De la Roche?” he asked in a near whisper. How could it be? The men had reported their leader dead. Drowned in the moat of Stonehyve Castle, or broken by the fall beneath those waters.

A ghost?

Navarre shook himself. He did not believe in such things. There was no danger here. He turned back around and continued down the rise of the hill.

A sting centered in his back. He arched against the pain, but it spread until it consumed him.

Two heartbeats later, he fell off his horse.

Dead.

Siobhan stared out over the ship’s edge, allowing the vigorous wind to brush her cheeks, to catch her hair and whirl it about her face. The wind, the water…She loved the sensations they carried and the newfound sense of freedom they brought to her.

Siobhan had never been on a ship before. It hadn’t taken but a moment for her to find her sea legs. She tipped her head back, up toward the rays of the afternoon sun. Vitality flowed through her, and joy.

She’d had three days to adjust to the idea of her father’s death. And though she’d thought she would never be happy again, instead she found she looked forward to each day with William. Each day held a surprise she had never counted on, the constancy of his love. He had yet to tell her the words, but his every look, his every touch spoke volumes.

Her hand drifted down to her abdomen, to the slight rise she would feel there soon. She was with child. The prospect suddenly didn’t seem so terrible. This wasn’t just any child she carried. It was William’s child. And she loved him.

Her gaze fixed in the distance where the sea met the sky, and some of her excitement faded. She couldn’t tell William about the child until he’d decided the path his life would take. One path led to the Templars. The other to her and her child.

The choice had to be William’s. She wouldn’t come between a man and his dreams. Not ever.

The symmetry between her own situation and that of her mother’s brought a tightness to her chest. Was this what her parents had had to face? After their joining, her father had chosen to return to the Templars. And her mother had remained behind, silently bearing the burden of raising a child alone. Her mother’s death had been an unforeseen variable that had brought her father back into Siobhan’s life.

Now that she knew the truth about her father, she could recall times in her past when she’d seen a deep sadness in his eyes, a longing she could do nothing about. He’d expressed feelings that had been stifled sometimes by their need to live in isolation. She’d known nothing else.

Because of her, her father had been forced to live in a state of limbo—stuck with her in the secular world, with his heart firmly in the religious past.

Siobhan gripped the edge of the railing. She could never do the same thing to William, baby or not. She would not sway him in any way. The decision he made had to come from his heart. And his heart alone.

With the Spear of Destiny clutched in one hand and his Templar tunic in the other, William stood before Archbishop Lamberton at the altar of Saint Giles’s Church in Edinburgh.

“So good to see you again, Sir William,” the archbishop said, smiling a greeting. “I’ve missed our long discussions since you left Edinburgh.”

“Important things drew me away.”

He nodded. “I am aware of your attempted journey to the Holy Land and the outcome of that battle. I prayed quite diligently for your safe return.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

“What brings you back to my altar?”

William cast a glance over his shoulder at Siobhan as she stood at the back of the church. Sunlight shone through the stained glass behind her, stroking her auburn hair with flame.

A pang of tenderness stirred within him. He knew what he wanted. He’d never been more certain of anything in his whole life.

“We have much to discuss,” William said, turning to face the holy man, who was dressed in a black cassock. The archbishop had a deeply creased, heavily jowled face, with clear and kind blue eyes.

“Indeed we have,” he said with a touch of awe as his gaze shifted between William’s face and the Spear. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Aye. The Longinus Spear, the Spear of Destiny, the Holy Lance. Call it what you will. The Templars have kept this artifact hidden for many years. It’s time to send it home. And although the pope may see me as a criminal, I still hold the Church in the highest esteem. I want the Spear returned to Rome, where the Vatican can oversee its care and protection.”

The archbishop’s jaw slackened. “You found the Templar treasure.”

William smiled. “All of it.”

“And you need my help because…?”

“I trust you more than any other to see to the Spear’s safe return.”

“You honor me, William.” His brow creased as his gaze searched William’s face. “There is more to your story than you are telling me. In your eyes I see more happiness than I’ve witnessed in many a year. But sorrow still lingers there as well.”

William released a soft, almost inaudible sigh. In the
five years that he’d spent at court, he’d visited his friend the archbishop on a weekly basis. “You could always read me better than anyone else.”

“I doubt that still holds true.”

At the archbishop’s laughter, William smiled.

“Is Siobhan the reason for your happiness?” the holy man asked, his gaze seeking her out at the back of the church.

William nodded.

“What do you desire?” the archbishop asked, returning his gaze to William.

He held out his Templar tunic. “To renounce my vows to the Templars.”

The archbishop nodded and a look of understanding filled his gentle eyes. “Your vows are as a lay monk, William. Abandoning them does not mean you are abandoning our Lord. If you choose to follow another path, another vocation, then I’ll make certain you are free to do so.”

William drew a slow, steady breath. “I want that very much.”

The archbishop accepted William’s tunic. “What about the treasure? It must be moved if it has been discovered. Does Sir John Fraser know that you’ve found his storehouse?”

Deep regret washed over William. “Sir John is dead at the hands of Pierre de la Roche. The man used the Spear to send him to his eternal reward.”

The archbishop genuflected. “My most sincere regrets. Sir John was a very good man.”

William motioned to Siobhan with his head. “She is his only daughter.”

The archbishop’s gaze moved beyond William to Siobhan. “The last time I saw her, she was a wee babe in
arms.” He sighed heavily. “Is there anything I can do to assist you?”

“Marry us?”

The archbishop’s eyes went wide, then laughter filled the church.

Siobhan twisted toward the altar, her expression uncertain.

“Consider your request fulfilled, my son.” The holy man’s smile increased. “When do I get to meet your lovely bride?”

William could feel heat rise to his face. “As soon as I ask her to be my wife.” He held out the Spear to the archbishop. “Meanwhile, take this into your care.”

The archbishop accepted the Spear. “’Tis an honor I do not take lightly.”

William released a heavy breath, suddenly relieved to have the responsibility of the Spear out of his hands. He had more important tasks to deal with. “Wait here. I shall be but a moment.”

The archbishop nodded. “Anything for your happiness, my friend.”

Siobhan nervously smoothed the gently used midnight blue velvet dress William had purchased for her earlier this morning. As he strode down the long church aisle after speaking with the archbishop alone, a radiant smile lit his face. Gone were the lines of strain. Rugged power marked each step as he drew near.

Dressed in a wine-colored velvet tunic, dark trews and black boots, the sight of him brought warmth to the core of her being. There was an intensity and excitement in his expression that had never been there before. She felt herself melting as he stopped before her and took her hands in his.

“’Tis done,” he said, his voice soft.

“This is truly what you want, to be a Templar no more?”

He nodded. “In my heart I’ll always be a Templar, Siobhan. I’ve been a warrior all my life. I cannot break away from what has formed me into the man I am today. But I no longer have formal ties to the Templar Order. And I feel at peace with that decision.”

His hands moved up to cup her shoulders. “I want other things.”

She swallowed to ease the tautness in her throat. “What do you want, William?”

“You tempt me so,” he breathed as he brushed her hair away from her cheek, his fingers lingering on the curve of her neck. “I don’t let my guard down easily. I haven’t let anyone into my life in a long time. But somehow you slipped into my heart and soul. When we made love in the Templar treasure room, I knew you were the one—the one I would love forever.”

The breath stilled in her chest as the words she’d longed to hear wrapped around her heart. She opened her mouth to respond, but he brought a finger to her lips, stalling her.

“I asked you before, when I wasn’t free to do so. But today I stand before you an unencumbered man.” He paused. “You would make me the happiest man in the world if you would wed me, here in this church, today.”

Emotion swelled inside her. “Yes,” she responded without hesitation.

“You agree?”

She nodded, no longer trusting her voice.

He captured her lips in a kiss that stole her breath and left her longing for more. “I love you,” she responded when she was able, tracing her fingers over the sculpted muscle beneath his velvet tunic. His heart
hammered beneath her touch. She was blissfully content to know a part of that heart belonged to her now.

William slipped his arm around Siobhan’s waist. “You’re trembling,” he noted as he guided his bride up the long aisle toward the holy man who would wed them. “There is nothing to fear,
ma chérie
.” He smiled down at her. “After you’ve braved the wilds of Scotland, torture and battles with de la Roche, marriage to me cannot be so terrible.”

“It is not fear,” Siobhan admitted. “I truly don’t know why I feel suddenly so at ease.”

He paused. “Are you uncertain about this marriage? If you feel I am rushing things—”

“I have never been more certain of anything in my life,” she said, her tone fierce.

“Then what is it?” he asked, concern filling his sherry-colored eyes.

She worried her lower lip. “I am saddened my father could not be here with me.”

“He is here with us.” An understanding smile returned to William’s lips. “He’s in our hearts. He’s in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the stained glass. He’s in the silence that fills the church.”

A mixture of warm sunlight and shadow created a mosaic on the marble aisle before her. The scent of flowers, incense and candles permeated her senses in a heady mix. And from high above, a bell tolled the hour.

“You’re right. He is here with us.” Siobhan smiled into William’s eyes, suddenly filled with a sense of joy unlike any she had ever experienced.

This brave, strong, independent man would soon be her husband. She knew from their experiences over the past days that life wouldn’t always be perfect, that they’d have their challenges. She’d learned that life and love were a series of peaks and valleys, euphoria and pain. But in the end, it was the constancy of love that mattered.

“You’re the only man for me, Sir William Keith of Stonehyve. I shall be yours every day for the rest of my life.”

“Treasure.” He leaned forward and brushed her temple with his lips. “You’re the only treasure I need.”

Stonehyve Castle, Scotland

April 1332

Siobhan found herself at the gates of the kirk yard of Stonehyve Castle. She couldn’t keep herself from visiting her father’s grave, not today. Her father had died one year ago this day.

She threw open the gates, reveling in the pungent scent of the sea as it swept in with the rising of the tide. Over the past year she had come to love the smell of the ocean, just as she’d come to cherish her new life as mistress of the castle. William had also embraced his new life. Beneath his command, the castle and all its residents had flourished.

The most welcome addition to the castle she held cradled in her arms. “We’re going to meet your grandfather,” Siobhan explained to the four-month-old child, who seemed more interested in the tartan cloth Siobhan had wrapped around her than in the scenery.

Siobhan chuckled as she picked her way across the grave sites. At her father’s resting place, she stumbled. Where only a week ago there had been a simple wooden grave marker, now rested a life-size reclining figure carved in stone. It lay next to the monuments of William’s mother and father, which their staff had commissioned years earlier.

Instead of the sorrow she expected to feel at the sight of the newly capped year-old grave, joy bubbled up. Siobhan bent down beside the image of her father’s face. She
traced her fingers across the strong, noble jaw that the artist had captured from the days of his young adulthood, not at the time of his death. “Maggie, meet your grandfather,” Siobhan said to her daughter, her words thick with emotion.

William was responsible for this precious gift.

“Do you like it?” a familiar voice called from behind.

Siobhan turned to face William. “What a lovely surprise.”

He folded the two of them in his arms. He placed a kiss upon his daughter’s head before he turned to Siobhan. His kiss for her was slow and gentle, setting her heart and soul aflutter.

He pulled back with a beaming smile, knowing the effect he had over her. “I wanted to do something special for you, something that would remind you of the man your father was, and give our dear little Margaret at least a small understanding of who her grandparents were.”

Margaret cooed in response, reaching toward the effigies of his parents. Captured forever in stone, Sir Philip and Lady Eda Keith lay next to each other, their bodies close, eternally in love and at peace in each other’s arms.

“I can think of no better way to leave this world than in the arms of the man you love.”

“There are other statues I commissioned. Would you like to see them?”

Siobhan glanced around the kirk yard. Nothing else had changed.

“They’re not here.” William took the baby from Siobhan’s arms and led her out of the kirk yard, through the bailey and to the courtyard that overlooked the ocean at the back of the keep. Throughout the past year, William had spent much of his time directing the changes to the formalized gardens. Now she understood why.

In the center of the courtyard rose an urn similar to
the one they had seen in the Templar treasure chamber. Flames danced in the metalurn, lending life and motion to the groupings of life-sized statues that stood at each of the courtyard’s four corners.

“I left the Brotherhood behind, but I didn’t leave my brothers. I placed them here so they could look out over the waters of the Atlantic and into forever.” William guided her to one corner.

“Siobhan, this is Sir James Douglas, our leader. Beside him are Sir Walter Logan and Robert Logan of Restalrig.”

“These are the men who fought with you in the Battle of Teba.”

He nodded. “Over here we have Sir William Borthwick, Sir Kenneth Moir, Sir Alan Cathcart, and Mistress Brianna Sinclair.”

“A woman?”

“Aye, and a brave one at that.”

“How did she end up traveling with a Templar army?”

“That is a story in itself,” he said with a laugh as they continued to the far corner of the courtyard. “Allow me to introduce Sir William Sinclair and his brother, John Sinclair of Rosslyn.”

“Do the statues resemble the men and women you fought with?” she asked, curious as to how their images had been captured.

William nodded. “The death masks Simon and I made before their burials captured every detail. For those still living, I relied on past portraits.”

Siobhan smiled up at the two Sinclair brothers. “We must invite all their families to come see this tribute you’ve given them.”

William took her hand and walked with her to the final corner. He stopped before the two statues there. “Sir Simon Lockhart of Lee, and myself.”

Siobhan remained silent as she stared at the lifelike images of Simon and her husband. Despite her attempt to keep her emotions in check, tears came to her eyes and slid silently down her cheeks.

“Does this upset you?” William asked as he pulled her against the hard length of his body.

“Nay, my love. I’m touched by their bravery.” Looking up at him, she lifted her hand to his face and stroked his cheek. There was so much to this complex man she’d married. “You loved them all, didn’t you?”

“Aye.”

“Of these eleven, who is still alive?”

“Simon and Brother Kenneth you know, Sir William Borthwick and Brianna Sinclair. Alan Cathcart remains a mystery. His body was never found.”

Siobhan closed her eyes. The statues were so poignant. William was everything to her, everything she’d ever dreamed of and more, yet if something was missing from his life, if he’d rather be with the Templars…

He touched her chin and forced her to look up at him. “I know what you’re thinking, Siobhan. The answer is nay. I wouldn’t trade one moment of my life with you and Margaret to be a Templar again.”

“Just as I wanted to give our daughter a reminder of who her grandparents were, I needed to immortalize the Brotherhood to help me honor the past, both yours and mine.”

Staring into his eyes, she suddenly understood. For him, the statues meant it was time to move forward with life, to let go of the past. For in his eyes she saw love, and hope, but there was something else there as well. A part of himself that had been a Templar, a part of himself he would never let go. The adventurer.

And that is when Siobhan knew the truth: the adventure of her life had only just begun.