Soul of a Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Arch Through Time Book 13)

by Katy Baker

  She flushed. Why did he have to look at her like that? It made her tongue tie itself in knots and her thoughts go flying right out of her head.

  “So,” she said, trying to think of something to say. “You managed to discuss what you needed with the laird?”

  Callum’s gaze darkened, his smile faltering. “Aye.”

  “I take it from your expression it didn’t go well?”

  “Ye could say that.”

  He grabbed his tankard and raised it to his lips. Sophie again noticed the tattoo of a bird of prey on the inside of his wrist. Glancing over at Laird MacKay, she realized he had an identical one on the inside of his wrist too.

  “What is that?” she asked, pointing at the tattoo. “You and Laird MacKay have the same one. Does it symbolize something?”

  “Not really,” he said gruffly. “Just something my father instigated. A sign of the friendship between our two houses.”

  Sophie could tell he was lying. Elspeth had mentioned something about an ‘order’. Did the tattoo have something to do with that? It was clear, however, that Callum didn’t want to discuss it so she changed the subject.

  “Elspeth said she’s known you since you were a baby.”

  “Aye. Like I said, our families have been friends and allies for generations.”

  “I wonder what you were like as a baby?” she said with a smile. “Were you an adorable cherub? Or a screaming brat?”

  Callum’s eyebrows rose. “An adorable cherub, of course! How could ye think otherwise?”

  Sophie laughed and found herself beginning to relax. Something about Callum’s presence put her at ease.

  “What else has Elspeth been telling ye?” he asked. “Nay doubt ye already know the comings and goings of everyone within a fifty-mile radius.”

  Sophie pursed her lips. “Let’s see. I know the crofter up on the hill has been out of action for a week now because of his bunions. And that the miller down in the valley was seen going into a widow’s house whilst his wife was at church. Oh, and that the blacksmith’s guild are complaining that the iron ore shipments have been very poor of late.”

  It was Callum’s turn to laugh. “Aye, that sounds about right.” He raised his goblet to his lips and took a drink, watching her over its rim. His expression suddenly turned serious.

  “So tell me, lass,” he said. “What really brings ye to Scotland?”

  Sophie winced, taking a sip from her goblet to cover her sudden panic. What could she say? A crazy old woman sent me back in time?

  Forcing herself to meet his eyes she decided that keeping as close to the truth as possible was the best course. “I’ve come here to trace my ancestry.”

  Callum studied her for a moment, assessing. “And that’s why ye were at St Barnabas’s chapel?”

  “Yes.” She considered her next words carefully, wondering how much she should reveal about Irene MacAskill. “There is a woman I need to find. I think she might be able to help me discover what I need to know.”

  “I see. Does this woman have a name? Maybe I know her.”

  Sophie opened her mouth to speak but before she could answer the doors burst open and an army of serving staff came hurrying in. They served Murdoch and Elspeth first as the lord and lady of the castle, before moving onto everyone else. Sophie found herself staring down at a platter of roasted meat and vegetables which smelled delicious. One of the serving staff poured her a goblet of wine which she took gratefully, taking a sip and finding it much nicer than she’d expected.

  “Whoever this woman is,” Callum said, continuing their conversation. “I’m sure Murdoch and Elspeth will help ye to find her. They have offered ye the hospitality of Dun Garnon for as long as ye wish it.”

  Sophie glanced at him sharply. “What do you mean? What about you?”

  “I’ll be departing in the morning.”

  A jolt of shock went right through her. “You’re...you’re leaving?”

  “Aye.”

  “And you’re leaving me behind?” She’d assumed Callum would be staying here too and the thought of him leaving made her insides churn. He was the only familiar thing in this strange and frightening world.

  “Aye. It’s far safer here with Elspeth and Murdoch than riding through the countryside with me.”

  “Of course.” She choked out the words. After all, Callum owed her nothing. He’d gotten her to safety here at Dun Garnon. What more did she expect?

  It doesn’t matter, she told herself as she began picking at her food. You can just as easily find Irene MacAskill without him. What do you care if he rides away and leaves you here?

  But her assertions did nothing to dissolve the cold, hard lump of hurt in her belly.

  “OF COURSE.”

  The words were said so flippantly, like Sophie didn’t give one jot that he was leaving. With a grunt, Callum turned to his food, trying to ignore the ache of disappointment in his chest.

  What’s wrong with ye? he asked himself. Did ye expect her to beg to go with ye? Is that what ye wanted?

  Aye, that’s what he’d wanted, even though he knew it was ridiculous. When she’d walked into the hall tonight with Elspeth, the sight of her had all but taken his breath away. She wore a long burgundy dress that hugged the swell of her hips and breasts in a way that made his mouth go dry. Her hair had fallen down her back in luscious waves, glinting in the candlelight.

  Even now, the nearness of her was enough to distract him from the feast. A faint blush stained her cheeks and wisps of hair had fallen forward to frame her face.

  There was something about this woman...something he couldn’t quite place. She was a mystery, one that he longed to decipher.

  But that wasn’t to be. He’d done the right thing in asking Murdoch and Elspeth to take her in. She needed security and protection; he needed to return to his people. He’d been away too long already. Yet the thought of riding out on the morrow and leaving her behind made his chest ache.

  They ate in silence and an awkwardness settled between them, in contrast to the easy banter they’d shared earlier.

  “Yer accent isnae local. Where do ye hail from, my lady?”

  Callum looked up to see that Robert Rochford had turned in his seat and was addressing Sophie from his place along the table.

  “Um...London,” she replied, taking a quick sip from her goblet.

  “Ah, London! I must say, I’m surprised that yer husband let ye travel here alone.”

  “I...er... don’t have a husband.

  A faint smile crossed Rochford’s face and it was clear to Callum that this was the information he’d been fishing for all along. Bastard.

  “No husband? Then the men of London must be fools to let one so beautiful as you slip through their grasp.”

  Callum’s fingers tightened on his goblet. He didn’t like the way Rochford was watching Sophie. Rochford was one smooth bastard, with his elegant dress and finely manicured hair. Next to him, Callum must seem like some Highland ruffian.

  Sophie watched him for a moment, something flashing in her eyes. “Yes, they are,” she replied smoothly. “But I’ve discovered that fools aren’t just limited to my homeland. I come across them everywhere.”

  Rochford grinned, arching an eyebrow. “Your beauty is only matched by your wit, my lady.” He took a sip from his goblet and turned to talk to the man seated to his left.

  “It seems our guest has taken quite a shine to ye,” Elspeth said to Sophie. “And he’s quite the catch dinna ye reckon? A more handsome man I dinna think I’ve ever seen.”

  Callum felt a growl forming in his throat. He stood abruptly, scraping his chair back, suddenly in need of some air. He bowed to the ladies awkwardly and hurried out into the bailey. It was a clear night, with the clouds having broken to reveal the moon riding the sky high above, bathing everything in a silver light. Ignoring the enquiring looks of the guards on the gate, he climbed the steps up to the battlements and stared out over the landscape. The plain was a sea of silver-laced d
arkness and the loch glinted like a coin.

  All was still, peaceful. Yet Callum’s heart roiled. He knew the peaceful scene was deceptive. He could feel unseen enemies circling, waiting for their chance to strike. He’d done his best to uphold his vow, to uphold the ideals of the Order, but despite his efforts he could feel his enemies getting closer. If they should discover the Order’s secret...if they should find what they were searching for...

  He drew in a deep breath of night air. From behind came the sound of revelry from the great hall. Somebody had begun playing a fiddle and he could hear the tones of a bawdy song drifting out.

  What was Sophie doing right now? Was she laughing and joking? Was she talking to Robert Rochford? Enjoying the man’s company? The thought brought a snarl to his face.

  Damn it all, what was wrong with him? Why was he unable to stop thinking about her? Why was he allowing her presence to distract him from his mission? He gripped the edge of the parapet so hard his fingers turned white. The sooner he left Sophie MacCullough behind, the better.

  SOPHIE HAD NEVER HEARD such a lewd song. She felt her cheeks flaming at the words but nobody else in the hall seemed to mind in the least. In fact, most of them knew the words, and they sang along with the chorus, banging tankards on tables and calling for more.

  She took another sip of wine, laughing as Murdoch bellowed along with the song in his booming voice. Elspeth rolled her eyes at her husband’s antics, giving Sophie a long-suffering look.

  Despite her earlier misgivings, Sophie had been surprised to find herself enjoying the evening. The wine had obviously helped. She wasn’t sure how much she’d imbibed but every time her goblet got anywhere near empty, a servant miraculously appeared from nowhere to refill it. She was a little drunk.

  The only fly in the ointment was that Callum had not reappeared. She kept glancing at the door, hoping he’d rejoin her, but he didn’t appear. She yawned hugely, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth.

  “Oh my!” Elspeth exclaimed. “Are we keeping ye up, my dear?”

  “Sorry. I guess I’m a little more tired than I thought. Do you mind if I go to bed?”

  “Of course not! Here, I’ll get one of the maids to escort ye.”

  “No need. I’m sure I can find my own way.”

  Elspeth patted her arm. “Very well then. Sleep well, my dear.”

  Sophie bade good night to her and Murdoch and then stood, weaving through the benches to the door. Robert Rochford had left his seat at the high table and now lounged on one of the benches, deep in conversation with a red-haired woman. He glanced up as Sophie walked by and she felt his eyes on her all the way to the door. She was glad to step out into the entrance hall.

  It was blessedly cooler out here and Sophie was grateful as it helped clear her head. She walked to the stairs, wobbling a little.

  Oops, she thought. How much have I had? And how strong was that wine?

  She climbed the stairs to the floor above and walked down the corridor to her room. Except when she reached the end of the corridor she didn’t find her room, only a wide gallery with windows down one side and tapestries along the other.

  She stopped, frowning. She could have sworn this was the right way. She forced her foggy brain to think. What route had she and Elspeth taken earlier? At the time she’d been too worried about the upcoming feast to pay much attention and now she kicked herself. She should have accepted Elspeth’s offer of someone to guide her back. The castle was a maze for the unwary.

  Deciding to retrace her steps down to the hall, she spun on her heel and headed back down the corridor. She descended the staircase at the end but didn’t find herself in the entrance hall but in a second corridor that led off in both directions.

  What the hell? Had she missed a turning somewhere? Or walked right past the stairs? How did she get back to the hall from here?

  She set off and soon found herself passing through a confusing warren of passages and rooms, none of which looked even the least bit familiar. They were plain, with none of the wall decoration or tapestries that festooned the rest of the castle, and she guessed she’d somehow passed into the area where the castle staff worked. There was nobody around though and the only light came from candles in sconces attached to the walls.

  “Lost, my lady?”

  Sophie spun at the sound of the voice. She breathed out in relief as she recognized the figure walking towards her. “Yes. I was trying to find my room and must have taken a wrong turn.”

  “An easy thing to do,” Robert Rochford replied. “These old castles have been expanded and reshaped so much over the years that I’ll bet even old Murdoch doesn’t know every inch of it.”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Sophie replied. “Would you mind showing me the way back to the hall?”

  “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

  But he didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at her.

  “Er...shouldn’t we be going?”

  “Is it true what ye said earlier?”

  “What did I say earlier?”

  “About not having a husband? I cannot believe one so beautiful hasn’t been snapped up already. Or perhaps that is how you like it? Leaves you free to enjoy yourself?”

  “I beg your pardon? What’s that supposed to mean? Never mind. Good night.”

  She tried to walk past him but he stepped smoothly into her path. “Where are you going? I said I would show you back to the hall, and I will. Just as soon as we’re finished here.” He was uncomfortably close and Sophie could smell the cloying scent of the wine on his breath. His eyes glinted and the dim light accentuated the scar down one cheek. “I thought we could get to know each other a little better.”

  He ran his finger along her collarbone and Sophie slapped his hand away.

  “Stop that!”

  She backed off, but he followed. “Is it common for wenches to be so feisty where you are from as well? Come now, I know this is what you want. I saw how you were looking at me earlier. Why else would you lead me here where nobody will disturb us?”

  Sophie’s mouth dropped open. “I haven’t led you anywhere! I just got lost, like I told you. Now get out of my way!”

  Panicked, she kicked him in the shins. He howled in pain and Sophie took the opportunity to dart past him and flee down the corridor. It was so gloomy in the passageway she couldn’t see her way clearly. Where was the hall? Even the kitchens would do, anywhere where there was light and people so she could get away from Rochford.

  She’d not gone five paces when strong hands grabbed her from behind and spun her around.

  “Nicely done,” Rochford whispered, a smile lighting his handsome face. “You took me quite off guard. A pleasant game isn’t it?”

  His eyes were dark with lust and she realized that far from discouraging him, her resistance had only served to entice him further.

  “Let me go!” she cried. She tried to push past, but he grabbed both her wrists and then slammed her against the wall, pinning her arms above her head. She gasped in pain as her injured wrist protested but he took no notice. He pressed himself against her and began kissing her neck.

  “Fight me, my beauty,” he murmured. “You know I will win.”

  Sophie struggled in his grip but the man was as strong as an ox and her efforts only seemed to amuse him. She brought her knee up, hoping to catch him right between the legs, but he’d obviously been expecting this and neatly swayed away, never relinquishing his grip on her wrists.

  “You know how to put a fire in a man’s belly,” he murmured, his breath hot on her neck. “I’ll enjoy quenching that fire.”

  “Let me go!” Sophie yelled.

  But he only laughed softly.

  Sophie took a deep breath, gathered herself, and then screamed for all she was worth. She had no idea if anyone would hear her but she had to try something.

  Rochford’s hand clamped over her mouth. “Now that,” he said, sounding angry now. “Was a stupid thing to do. I’ll—”


  “Did ye not hear the lady?” said a cold voice. “She asked ye to unhand her.”

  With a growl of annoyance, Rochford let her go and turned to face the newcomer.

  It was Callum.

  Chapter 6

  Callum recognized that look in Robert Rochford’s eyes. It was feral, the expression of a man consumed by lust. The expression of a man used to taking what he wanted.

  “Stay out of this, Sutherland,” he growled. “This has naught to do with you.”

  “The lady asked ye to leave her be and ye didnae. That makes this my business,” he replied with more calmness than he felt.

  His muscles were tight with fury. He ached to punch Rochford’s handsome face, to pummel him bloody. When he’d heard Sophie scream his blood had run cold and then, when he’d come running to see her pinned against the wall by this bastard, his vision had gone red. Only the risk of hurting Sophie had stopped Callum from throwing himself at the man.

  Give me an excuse, he thought, hands clenching into fists. Just give me an excuse.

  Rochford glared at him, eyes flashing. “What do you care? She is obviously a whore. You heard her say she has no husband. What kind of woman her age isn’t married? Only whores, that’s who.”

  With a hiss of rage, Callum lunged at Rochford. He caught the man by the shirt and slammed him into the wall, ramming his forearm against the man’s throat so he couldn’t move. Rochford might be strong and a skilled fighter but Callum had trained every day of his life since he was eight years old.

  “Insult the lady again,” Callum said, his face close to Rochford’s. “And ye will never speak again. Apologize to the lady. Now.”

  Rochford’s eyes blazed with anger. “You will regret this—”

  Callum increased the pressure, pushing his arm against Rochford’s throat until he began to choke. “I said apologize!”

  Rochford gasped. “My...my apologies, my lady,” he croaked. “I fear I made a mistake.”

  Callum released him, stepping back. Rochford doubled over, gasping in air and massaging his neck. Callum didn’t take his eyes off the man. Neither of them were carrying weapons—it was one of Murdoch’s rules when inside the castle—but that didn’t mean Rochford might not retaliate.