The Knight

CHAPTER ONE




Douglas, South Lanarkshire, Scotland, February 1311



Hush ye, hush ye, little pet ye,

Hush ye, hush ye, do not fret ye,

The Black Douglas shall not get ye.

—Sir Walter Scott, Tales of a Grandfather





James was coming home! Joanna Dicson waited anxiously beside the big rock atop Pagie Hill. Spread out below her, clustered on the banks of the river, was the village of Douglas. To the north on the far side of the riverbank, she could make out the towers of Douglas Castle—or, as the English who now garrisoned the castle called it, “the dangerous castle of Douglas.” To the west were her father’s lands of Hazelside, and to the east…

To the east was James!

Her smile fell. At least she thought he would be coming from the East. Although James waged his campaign against the English from a base in the forests west of Selkirk, she’d heard rumors of his being in the North recently with King Robert the Bruce as a member of his personal guard. He was so important now, and she was so proud of him. But it had been so long since she’d seen him—nearly three months since James had last returned to his ancestral stronghold to harry the English who held his castle—she couldn’t be certain of his whereabouts.

When her father had told her James was rumored to be in the area, she’d raced up the hill to the place they’d always met, knowing he would look for her there as soon as he arrived. Tears of happiness blurred her vision. She couldn’t wait to see him. They had so much to talk about. Her heart swelled with emotion. He was going to be so happy.

How long had she been waiting? An hour, maybe two? It would be midday soon.

The snap of a twig behind her made her heart jump. She spun around excitedly. Finally! “You’re—”

Here. Except he wasn’t. It wasn’t James. The rush of emotion that had surged through her so suddenly came crashing down.

The man who approached shook his head in mock chagrin. “Sorry to disappoint you, Jo. It’s just me.” One corner of his mouth curved in a wry smile. “Good thing I’m not one of those English soldiers of yours; the look of disappointment on your face would have plunged a dirk right through my heart.”

Joanna felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “They aren’t my English soldiers, Thommy. You know I do nothing to encourage them.”

The man she’d known since childhood, who was closer to her than any brother, looked at her with amusement twinkling in his dark blue gaze. “Lass, just standing there you encourage them. Who’d have thought such a funny-looking thing would turn out to be one of the prettiest lasses in Lanarkshire?”

“Funny looking?” She feigned outrage but couldn’t help laughing, knowing it was true. Her too-big eyes and mouth had looked awkward on a small face. “You’re one to talk. I don’t think I saw you without soot on your face for the first dozen years of your life.” She gave him a playful shove, and then frowned when he didn’t budge an inch. Already one of the tallest men in the village, Thom was on his way to being one of the strongest—not surprising since his father was the village blacksmith. She gave his chest another poke. “Good gracious, Thommy, you’re about as hard as one of those cliffs you are always climbing. If you grow any bigger, you might find yourself holding a sword and not a hammer.”

A shadow crossed his face. “Actually, that’s why I came to find you.”

Her brows drew together. “How did you find me?”

He shrugged. “Douglas is coming; where else would you be?”

She ignored the wry edge to his voice that almost bordered on sarcasm. “It’s true?” She pounced on him excitedly. “Have you seen him?”

He shook his head. “Nay, but Park Castle was fairly abuzz with whispers of his imminent—or should I say eminent—arrival.”

This time there was no mistaking his sarcasm. Thom made no secret of his disapproval of his former childhood companion and the man most in Scotland regarded as a hero, “Good Sir James,” who fought to rid Scotland of its English oppressors. But it wasn’t James’s politics or his methods that Thom objected to, it was his relationship with her.

Thom just didn’t understand.

Something else in his voice, however, had caught her attention. “You saw Beth—I mean Lady Elizabeth?”

James’s younger sister had recently returned to Scotland and was currently residing at the old Park Castle, since the English had garrisoned Douglas Castle. The four of them had been inseparable in their youth—before the war had sent James to battle and Elizabeth to France for safety.

He didn’t answer, but the slight tightening around his mouth answered her question. “I’m leaving, Jo. It’s been arranged. I’ve come to say good-bye.”