In the Kingdom's Name (Guardian of Scotland Book 2) (9 page)

“What can I do to assist?” Lady Christina asked.

Eva couldn’t even look the woman in the eye. Worse, she couldn’t think of any task to occupy her.
Andrew’s fate is in history’s hands
. “We need a miracle.” And she couldn’t endure Christina hovering over her along with William. “Perhaps if you go to the chapel, drop down on your knees and pray like you’ve never prayed before.”

“Yes, of course,” she said with a tremor in her voice. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Lady Christina whisked past and out the door.

“I’ll set to collecting all ye need,” William said as he followed the lady out.

Eva nodded. Taking in a stuttering breath, she moved to Andrew’s bedside. His face ghostly white, he looked cadaverous with sunken cheeks. “Sir Andrew?” When he didn’t move, she folded the linen sheet down to his waist. “I’m going to try to help you. See if I can remove the piece of lead left by the arrow,” she said as if he could hear.

Finding a pair of shears on the bedside table, she cut the bandage from his shoulder. With a gasp, she clapped her hand over her mouth and stared at the wound in horror. It was worse than she’d imagined. The entire shoulder was distorted with swelling, and she didn’t need to touch it to tell it was fevered. The swollen skin gleamed angry red. Worse, it stank like the castle middens fermenting in the hot sun. Puss oozed from the jagged hole where the arrow had entered over a month ago.

Eva swallowed against her revulsion, rubbing her fingers together. Cringing, she stepped toward him and scrunched her nose as she reached out to press her fingers around the grotesque wound.
If only I had a pair of latex gloves
.

But she didn’t.

She had no choice but to touch the repugnant, infected skin with her bare hands. Sickly bile burned her esophagus as she started at the outer edge of the swollen red ring, swirling her fingers as she felt for a sign of the lead tip she suspected might still be embedded in muscle.

Working her fingers completely around the hot, burning flesh, she came up with nothing. She stared at the puss weeping from the open wound and couldn’t bring herself to stick her finger in it. After taking in a deep breath, she picked up the damp cloth Lady Christina had been using to wipe his forehead. It wasn’t sterile, but Eva doubted that mattered at this stage.

Before she brushed the ooze, the door opened and William strode inside carrying an iron kettle filled with water. “I’ll just put this on the grill.”

Robbie followed with an armload of rags.

She beckoned the boy. “Put them at the foot of the bed, then you’d best go.”

“Aye, Miss Eva.” The lad’s face scrunched as if sickened by the stench. “Do ye need anything else, Willy?”

William kneeled beside the hearth and set the pot on the iron grill above the fire. “Nay, be off with ye.”

Eva tossed the wet rag aside. “Is the water hot?”

“Warm,” he said over his shoulder. “Couldna carry it up here if it was scalding.”

“Did you bring the whisky and the knife?”

“Aye.” William stood and pulled a very small knife from inside his sleeve.

Eva peered closer. It looked like a scalpel. “Where did you find that?”

“’Tis a bloodletting lancet.”

With her pincer fingers she took the thing and examined it. “It’s sharp?”

“Like a razor.” He pulled a second knife from his belt—a good sized dagger. “But if that one’s too small, I’ve another.”

Eva shirked from the sharp point. “Let’s try the lancet first.”

William replaced the knife in his belt, reached to his back and pulled out a flagon. “Here’s your spirit.”

Eva took the whisky and poured a bit into a cup, and then rested the lancet inside.

“I was wondering why ye wanted a wee tot,” William hummed.

“It isn’t for me.” She gestured to the cup. “I needed it to act as a sterilizing agent.”

“Ye see.” He shook his pointer finger under her nose. “I never heard the term sterilizing afore I met ye.”

Taking a clean cloth, she doused it with whisky and pulled it taut around her fingers. She held her breath and pushed against the eye of the wound. Yellow puss surged forth as she applied more pressure and swirled her fingers in a circular pattern. Eva clamped her lips taut to keep from retching.

“What are ye doing?”

Aside from trying not to puke all over Sir Andrew?
“Seeing if I can locate the piece of lead,” she said soberly. “He’s awfully swollen.” Feeling nothing, she pressed harder. Then she found it—something hard at least. With a quick inhale, she used one finger to rub deep. Embedded in the tissue she’d found a hard lump no bigger than the tip of her pinky finger. “Give me a pen.”

“Pardon?”

Pens don’t exist you dolt
. While holding her finger on the spot, Eva shook her free palm. “A bit of charcoal—anything with which I can make a mark.”

William grabbed a stick of charcoal from the hearth and brought it over. “Did ye locate the arrow tip?”

“I think so.” She made an “X”. Thank goodness, she’d probed first because the tip was about a half inch below the open wound. She picked up the flagon. “This will prevent infection.” She looked at the puss. “I mean further infection.”

William grumbled under his breath. “Ye pour that directly on and it’ll hurt like Hades’ fire.”

He’s not wrong there
. “Fortunately, Sir Andrew’s unconscious.” She drizzled about a thimble full of whisky directly on the wound and watched it coagulate with the ooze. Then she added a bit more.

With an earsplitting bellow, Andrew’s eyes flew open. Flinging his hands up, he gaped at her as if she’d run William’s knife across his throat.

Eva clutched the flagon to her chest and skittered backward. “It-it-it’s okay.”

Andrew’s arms dropped and his eyes slowly rolled back until his lids closed. Together they watched for a moment until the knight’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

Letting out a stuttered exhale, Eva’s shoulders dropped. “I didn’t think he’d wake.” When she blinked, an image of Professor Walter Tennant with his thick glasses and wiry, grey-streaked hair flashed through her mind, but only for a fleeting second.

William pointed to the flagon. “Ye’d wake the dead pouring whisky on an open wound that size.”

“Well, I don’t have any other options.” She shrugged, blocking the professor from her mind as she picked up another cloth from the foot of the bed. “I’ll need you to sop up the blood and keep it dry so I can see inside.”

He took the cloth. “Verra well.”

Her fingers trembled as Eva pulled the lancet from the cup and held it up. “No matter what happens, I love you.” She did—probably not the best time to declare it. God, she wanted to throw her arms around William’s neck and tell him never to grow angry with her again. Plead with him not to make her do something they would both regret, but from the hard line of his jaw, she knew, whatever the cost, she must prove the extent of her love.

William pursed his lips and nodded. His action spoke volumes—aye, he loved her, but desperately needed a miracle to save his dying friend. Stepping to the very edge of the bed she bent down and placed the razor-sharp edge against Andrew’s flesh. The medallion flashed hot like a branding iron scorching her skin.

The lancet dropped from Eva’s hand and clattered to the floor. An agonizing rush of air filled her ears as blackness consumed her mind.

***

William bent down to retrieve the lancet. A brisk breeze swept past his face and a shudder slithered up his spine. Shaking off his trepidation, he straightened and held out the tiny knife.

Gooseflesh crawled across his skin.

Gasping, he blinked in disbelief.

Eva had vanished—in the matter of a heartbeat.

There’d been no footsteps.

The door hadn’t sounded.

His gut clamped and twisted.

God in heaven, what have I done?

“Holy
fucking
shit!” Eva rubbed her hands over her face and pressed against her temples. Blinking rapidly, her mind caught up with her body as she sucked in consecutive shallow breaths.

An intense, grating voice spoke loudly with affected importance. Eva turned toward the sound.
A television?

She spun the other way. “Walter?”

The professor sat on the couch, gaping as if he were as stunned as she. Through an open door, papers rustled and a chair scraped across the floor.

“Eva?” asked Chrissy, one of Walter Tennant’s students. She stepped into the living room and leaned against the door jamb. “Where the hell did you come from?”

Walter flicked his wrist at the undergrad. “Please give us a moment. I need a word with Miss MacKay.”

Chrissy coughed out a grunt and backed into what looked like an office and closed the door. Thank God. All Eva needed was a nosy student finding out about the medallion and time travel.

Walter motioned with his head. “She’s doing some research for me.”

Eva shrugged. It wasn’t any of her business why a fifty-something man would shack up with twenty-year-old student. Thank God they weren’t naked when she arrived. Eva bit her lip, realizing she’d never set foot in the room before. “Where the hell am I?”

“My flat in Glasgow.”

“What about the dig? Where’s my stuff? What happened to the tent…and where’s my car?” Her head shook as she glared at Tennant. “Fuck! This can’t end. Not. Now.”

The professor shook his palms. “Slow down. One thing at a time.”

With a huff, Eva clamped her fists to her hips and tapped her foot.

Looking over the top of his inordinately thick lenses, Walter cleared his throat. “First of all, it’s November. The dig ended two months ago. Your things are safe. Your car is in the garage below and your suitcase and attaché are in my spare room.”

She turned in a circle. “How did I end up here?”

“I’ve no idea.”

She reflected back to the moment she was about to make the incision in Andrew’s shoulder. “I pictured your face. That must be it. The same thing happened the last time I was hurled back to the…” She looked toward the office and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Twenty-first century.”

“I never expected you to be gone for this long. What in God’s name has been happening?”

“Too much. I need to go back. All my scrolls are still there. This is the absolute worst time to leave William.”

He inclined his head and held up a finger. “Now come lass, you cannot spew a string of ambiguities and expect me to sit back and let it pass. What. Have. You been up to?”

With an exasperated sigh, she looked to the ceiling. “The last thing I remember, I was trying to remove a lead arrow tip from Andrew Murray’s shoulder.”

“Murray? Well, undoubtedly that’s what sent you back. The history books are very clear as to the timing of his death.”

“Don’t you think I know? But William was adamant I try to do something to save him. He even accused me of withholding information about a cure.”

The professor crossed his arms. “Didn’t you? I mean, you knew you could do nothing to change the past. I would think you would have avoided helping Sir Andrew at all costs.”

Eva groaned. “And William suspected me of doing just that. I tried to help as much as I could. I told Brother Bartholomew to keep the wound clean, though I suspected Sir Andrew was suffering from lead poisoning.”

“Fascinating.” Walter beamed as if the world hadn’t just collapsed. “We all know he died from wounds incurred at the Battle of Stirling Bridge, but how did you arrive at lead poisoning?”

“He was shot in the shoulder with a crossbow arrow and a bit of the tip broke off.”

“And you were about to remove it because Wallace didn’t want to lose his friend?”

“Sir Andrew was more than that.” Eva threw out her hands. “He was William’s ticket into the gentry. You wouldn’t believe all the backstabbing that goes on between the nobles.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Walter chuckled. “That’s exactly why Scotland ended up in such a mess in the first place. The nobles would have preferred to fight each other for the throne than fight for King John.”

Eva combed her fingers through her hair. “I have to go back to Fail. If I drive there, can you pick up my car?”

The professor had the gall to slip his stockinged feet onto the footstool. “Do you honestly believe the forces behind the medallion will allow you to travel again?”

“I did nothing wrong.” She stamped her foot. “By the looks of Sir Andrew this morning, he wouldn’t have lived even if I did successfully remove the lead.”

“But how do you know for certain?” Goddammit, did the man have to look so smug, comfortably sitting in his lounger?

She narrowed her gaze and balled her fists. Lord she wanted to throttle him. “I don’t.”

“Wasn’t Sir Andrew a young, virile man? Someone who might recover from the brink of death?”

Eva threw up her hands. “I suppose there was a remote possibility that he would have survived, but that doesn’t allay the fact that I must try to return.”

Walter sat back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Well, not before you have a word with your mother.”

“Pardon me?” She glared at him. “I am twenty-seven years old, and I’ll not be listening to a college professor tell me I ought to call my mother.”

“If you want your keys, you will. The woman has been growing quite irritated. I’m afraid she and your father are on the brink of notifying the Royal Marines. Lord knows I’ve been putting them off, but with every phone call your mother becomes less understanding.”

“Ugh.” Eva rubbed the needling knot in her neck. “Bloody hell.” She dug in her pocket for her mobile phone and pushed the “on” button.

Nothing.

“This is dead. Can I use yours?”

Walter unclasped his phone from his belt. “Go in the spare room—down the hall, last door on the right.”

Eva did as asked and found her gear neatly stowed in a corner. Before dialing, she pulled her charger out of her briefcase and plugged in her smartphone to start it charging. She watched it illuminate while she dialed her mother on Walter’s phone, almost shocked she remembered the number after being in a time warp for six months.

The phone didn’t even ring once when her mother picked up. “Hello?”

“Mum?”

“Eva? Oh my God! Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? I’ve left messages for you day and night. Your father and I have been beside ourselves thinking the worst of Professor Tennant…”

Eva glanced at her mobile while Mother continued her rant.
Only a thousand fifty-three voice messages?
Otherwise, the thing was still going through the gyrations of updating unread texts and e-mails.

She tuned back into Mum’s rant. “…how could you have gone for so long without calling? I taught you to respect your parents. I should—”

After taking in a deep breath, Eva interrupted, “Sorry. I’m fine, in good health, wonderful, actually. How are you and Dad?”

“Pardon? You sound as if you’ve been away for a weekend holiday, and—”

“I know it’s been a long time, but I literally have not been near a phone or a post office or a computer for that matter.”

“For heaven’s sakes, have you been on the
moon
? I have a mind to hop on a plane and fly to Scotland right now. Regardless that your father will be entertaining the Russian ambassador,
you
need me more.” Eva’s parents lived in Washington DC.

“No. Mother, please do
not
fly here. I am perfectly fine and I doubt I’ll be around when you arrive.”

“You mean to say you will be off again? What? Are you working for MI6? Oh my God, save us. Have you…have you become a
spy
?” Mother’s voice ratcheted up with her every word. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”

It would have been easy for Eva to say yes, but she abhorred lying, even when Mum played the hysterical card. “No. It’s a journalism job. I’m researching a story undercover…it may take a year…maybe longer.”

“Undercover? I knew it all along. You
are
putting yourself in danger. I shoul—”

“No! You aren’t listening to me. I am perfectly safe.” Eva believed that to her toes. She’d convinced herself she would be hurled back to her time if any medieval zealot ever tried to kill her. That’s what happened when Professor Tennant fell through the
time warp
…though he’d never been able to accomplish time traveling again. But Eva had. “The only problem is I am unable to make contact with you or anyone else while I’m there.”

“This is ludicrous. No contact at all? What you’re doing
must
be dangerous. If nothing else, give me the name of the outfit you are working for and I’ll have your father investigate. You know your father has contacts in high places in London—”

“Jeez, Mum. How can I make you understand?” Eva clenched her fist. “There is
no
threat and there is
nothing
for Dad to concern himself with.” Eva’s father, Sir David MacKay was the UK Ambassador to the United States and if he leaked a scandal, it would make the headlines of every newspaper between Washington DC and Edinburgh—not to mention the bloodbath by television.

Mother huffed on the other end of the phone. “I don’t like this.”

“I’m sorry you’re worried. But I’m happy and doing something that makes me feel alive for the first time since Steve’s death. Finally I’ve been able to move on with my life. Please, just give me a little time. Don’t you want me to be happy?” Gritting her teeth, Eva held her breath for a long pause.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Mum’s tone completely changed. At last. “I’ve only been thinking of you—of your safety. Of course I want nothing more than to see you happy.”

Eva grabbed the carrot and fast. “Good. Then it’s settled. When I return, I’ll fly to the embassy and we’ll have a wonderful reunion.”

By the time she clicked off, Eva had her Mum’s hysterics under control.
Maybe I should write a few ambiguous letters for Professor Tennant to send from time to time so that doesn’t happen again
. But she had no time to lose. Opening the door she headed for the loo.

The water ran before Chrissy stepped out the door.

Great
.

“So, what’s going on?” the cute, brown-haired girl asked, planting a sassy hand on her hip.

Eva looked toward the living room with a shrug. “What does Tennant say?”

“Same thing I just heard you tell your mum.”

“You were listening in?” Now Eva knew she needed to watch her back whenever Chrissy was around.

“How else would I find out? Prof Tennant doesn’t tell me anything. One day you were working with us on the dig. Then you unearthed William Wallace’s seal and disappeared—and the professor seemed to think nothing was wrong. It’s just weird.”

Eva pushed past the lass and grabbed the doorknob. “I can only tell you what I told Mum. I’ll spill the beans after I’m done and not before.”

“Come on. At least tell me why you’re dressed like that?” Chrissy pinched Eva’s sleeve and rubbed the wool between her fingers. “It looks so authentic.”

“It’s part of my disguise. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Eva shut the door and turned the lock. As soon as she finished taking care of her bodily needs, she’d head straight for the ruins of Fail Monastery.