by Katy Baker
She ignored his offer of aid, swung her leg over the saddle in a wholly unlady-like fashion, and then jumped to the ground, landing heavily. Her knees buckled and she would have fallen but Callum darted forward to catch her.
“It’s all right, I’m okay,” she said, straightening, but Callum noticed she gripped his forearms tightly.
Damn him, but he liked it when she did that.
She released her grip and stepped back, looking around. “So, this is what a medieval Scottish inn looks like? Excellent! Shall we?”
The stableman had been watching this exchange with interest. Callum tossed him the reins. “See that my horse is stabled.”
The man inclined his head. “Aye, my lord.”
If he read the man’s demeanor correctly, Callum guessed word of his arrival with a strange foreign woman would be all over the inn by tonight. Perfect. So much for keeping his arrival quiet. If any of the Disinherited were around, they would soon know he was here.
He led the way across the courtyard to the back door of the inn and pushed inside. The common room was small but clean, with freshly swept flagstones and bunches of herbs hanging from the ceiling giving the place a pleasant smell.
It wasn’t grand by any means—far more crude than a man of his station would be expected to frequent—but the people of Henborough knew him only as a warrior who sometimes visited the place. Anonymity suited him, especially when on a mission for the Order.
Rhonda, the innkeeper, came bustling from behind the bar. The inn had been originally owned by Rhonda’s parents and when they died, it had passed to her. She was a spinster, refusing to marry, and she’d made a name for herself as an excellent host.
Callum glanced at Sophie, remembering their earlier conversation. Maybe her outlandish ideas about women running a business weren’t so far-fetched if Rhonda was anything to go by.
“Callum!” Rhonda cried, hurrying over and giving him a beaming smile. Her round cheeks were rosy and wisps of curly hair had broken free of the scarf that covered her head. “Will ye be wanting yer usual room?”
She glanced at Sophie but was too polite to ask who she was. Rhonda knew that Callum wasn’t married and was no doubt wondering why he’d turned up in the company of a woman who wasn’t his bride.
“Aye, although I doubt I’ll be staying,” he replied. “We are only passing through. However, somewhere private where the lady can rest would be appreciated. And some food and ale if ye please.”
“Of course,” Rhonda inclined her head. “This way.”
She led them over to the stairs. Callum indicated for Sophie to precede him up the rickety flight and along the corridor to a room at the end. Rhonda unlocked the door and then led the way into a small, bare room with a cot in one corner. The room was sparse but more than adequate for their needs.
“I’ll have some food brought up anon,” Rhonda said. “Is there aught else I can help ye with?”
“Some hot water for washing would be great,” Sophie said.
Rhonda gave a small curtsey. “Straight away, my lady.”
Then she turned and left, pulling the door shut behind her.
Callum dumped the saddle bags onto the floor and then strode to the window. It gave a good view of the crossroads and the people moving along the streets. He found himself examining the crofters and farmers, the merchants and the artisans as they went about their day. Were any of them Disinherited? Did any of them know what had happened to Alfred? Were any of them watching him as he was watching them?
“Why does everyone keep doing that?” Sophie asked.
Callum turned to her. “Doing what?”
“Keep calling me ‘my lady’. It makes no difference if I ask them to or not.”
“What else should they call ye? It is the proper term of address for a noblewoman.”
She shook her head. “But I’m not a noblewoman.”
Then what are ye? he wanted to ask. Who are ye? Ye claim to not be a noblewoman and yet ye wear a bracelet around yer wrist and a ring on yer finger that is worth far more than most of these people have seen in their lives. Ye use words that I’ve never heard before. Who are ye, Sophie MacCullough?
But he said none of this. “I have to go out,” he announced. “Stay here and dinna leave the inn. Understood?”
She crossed her arms. That defiant look flared in her eyes again. “Is that an order?”
“Nay, not an order. A request. Please. There are some things I need to see to, then we’ll go out together and look for yer friend. I canna keep ye safe if ye go wandering without me. Will ye stay here?”
She sighed. “Fine. Seeing as you asked nicely.” Her lip quirked as though she wanted to smile. “I’m aching like hell, anyway. Nobody ever told me that riding made your ass so sore.”
She rubbed her backside and at the sight a burst of heat shot straight to Callum’s groin. Why did she have to do things like that? He strode quickly to the door.
“I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Then he fled.
SOPHIE SAT BY THE WINDOW. The innkeeper had brought hot water, so she’d washed the dust of the road off her hands and face, eaten the stew that Rhonda had provided, and washed it all down with watered ale.
Now she was watching the hustle and bustle of a small medieval town. She could still hardly believe it. She was here. She was really here. The people walking below her window were proof of that.
Okay, she thought to herself. What now?
She’d achieved her first goal in reaching this place. Hopefully, there would be somebody here who knew how to find Irene MacAskill. Then Sophie could track the woman down and go home. Simple, right?
But whenever she looked out of the window, her stomach clenched with tension. How was she supposed to navigate her way through a medieval town? Without Callum by her side she was as lost as a child.
Callum. His face flashed into her mind. Now that he’d left her alone she already missed him.
Stop it! she told herself. You barely know the man!
That was true, but it didn’t stop the little flare of warmth that lit in her belly whenever she thought of him.
Something outside suddenly caught her eye and she stiffened. Wait. Was that—? She leaned forward, face right up to the window. Yes! A tiny old woman was walking along the street with her back to Sophie. She had an iron-gray bun pinned to the back of her head.
Sophie shot to her feet, fumbled with the window latch until she managed to get it open, and then leaned out as far as she dared.
“Irene!” she bellowed. “Irene!”
A few of the passersby looked up at her in surprise but Irene didn’t hear.
“Damn it!”
Sophie slammed the window shut, pelted from the room, down the corridor and bounded down the stairs two at a time. In the common room, Rhonda looked up from where she was wiping down a table.
“My lady? Is everything all right? Is there aught—”
Sophie burst past her and out into the street. She paused for a second to look around, then spotted the small figure in the distance.
Her heart pounded with excitement. This was her chance!
She ran.
Chapter 7
“Aye, I remember the man ye are describing,” said the tanner. “He was here about four days ago. Shared a mug of ale and a game of cards with him in the inn. Why are ye asking?”
The tanner was a thin man with a long, somber face and he stank of his trade. Callum did his best not to screw up his nose in distaste. “He owes me money,” he lied smoothly. “I’m hoping to track him down.”
“Ah!” the tanner said with a knowing look. “He struck me as that sort. Shifty. Secretive. Never did tell me why he was in Henborough. Still, I’m not one to turn down a flagon of ale if I’m offered one and he liked to talk.”
“Talk? About what?”
“Actually, come to think of it, he asked questions mostly,” the tanner said, scratching his armpit. “I did most of the talking.”
“What did he want to know?” Callum asked. If Alfred had begun asking questions in Henborough, it meant he’d suspected something.
“Oh, just gossip really, the latest comings and goings, who’d newly come to Henborough, that kind of thing. When ye stand here every day selling yer wares like I do, ye get to hear all sorts of things.” The man grinned at him, revealing several missing teeth.
Callum took a breath, keeping his patience. “As I said, I’m trying to track this man down. Any idea where he went?”
The tanner shrugged. “No idea. I assume he concluded his business and left. I did see him talking to a group of men though.”
“Men? What men?”
“I wouldnae know. Never seen them before. They were over yonder, talking on the street corner. I couldnae hear what they were saying but they looked suspicious if ye ask me.”
“But ye didnae see where they went?”
“Nay. All sorts come through this market, I dinna pay attention to them all. Now, are ye gonna buy any of my hides?”
Callum glanced at the man’s wares—cured animal hides in a variety of shapes and sizes. He shook his head. “Nay. Here, for yer trouble.” He tossed the man a coin. The tanner grabbed it and pocketed it as swiftly as any street urchin.
“Always a pleasure doing business with a fine gentleman such as yerself.”
Callum turned away and began walking down the street. This was the first real lead he’d found on Alfred. It seemed his friend had discovered something right here in Henborough. And these men he’d been seen talking to? Members of the Disinherited? Or something else entirely? He rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, gripping the metal tightly.
It seemed every clue only led to more questions.
A sudden commotion behind him made him turn. People had stopped to watch a figure that was tearing along the street at breakneck pace. They pointed, amused, as a woman came streaking past, hair flying out behind her, running for all her life.
It was Sophie. She pelted past Callum without even seeming to notice him.
With a curse, he took off after her. In three strides, he caught her and grabbed her wrist, swinging her around to face him.
“What are ye doing?” he demanded. “I told ye to stay at the inn!”
Sophie’s eyes were wild and it took a second for her to recognize him. “Let go!” she cried. “I have to catch her! Look! There she is!”
She pointed excitedly down the street. Following her outstretched finger, Callum saw a small, gray-haired woman weaving through the crowd.
“She’s getting away!”
Before Callum could stop her, Sophie broke free of his grip and went sprinting after the woman.
With a curse, Callum followed, but the crowd was so thick that he had to weave in and out of street vendors, farmers who’d brought their animals to market, lady’s maids out shopping for their mistresses, and countless others who thronged the streets.
“Excuse me. Begging yer pardon. Out of my way, please,” he muttered as he forced his way through them. Up ahead, he could see Sophie’s golden hair which stood out starkly, and ahead of her, the gray-haired woman she was pursuing.
What did she think she was doing? Didn’t she realize the danger she was putting herself in?
She fought her way to the edge of the crowd and then disappeared into an alleyway between two buildings. Cursing, Callum struggled after her. Stepping into the alley, he found that it was cold and dark, with little light penetrating between the closely packed buildings. It also stank.
There was no sign of Sophie but he could hear footsteps disappearing into the distance. Growling under his breath, he hurried after her, his feet squelching in the muck that coated the alley floor.
He was so focused on the gloom ahead of him that he was a little surprised when he found himself stepping out into a sunlit courtyard. It was formed by the backs of four buildings and there was no obvious exit other than the one he’d come through. Sophie stood in the center of the courtyard, her golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, looking around with a confused expression.
“Sophie? What are ye doing?”
She whirled at the sound of his voice. “Callum! You saw her didn’t you? She came this way, so where has she gone?” Her voice had turned shrill, a little panicked.
Callum took a step forward, scanning the courtyard. There was nobody here but himself and Sophie. “Who?” he asked softly. “Who were ye looking for?”
“It was her! I know it was!” She spun in a circle, looking around desperately. “Wait! What’s that?” She hurried over to a corner, knelt, and then came up holding two objects in her hand. They flashed as they caught the sunlight.
Callum strode over and examined the objects sitting in Sophie’s palm. One was a short dagger, the blade broken clean off. The other was a pin of some kind like the ones to hold a cloak in place.
He gasped as recognition hit him. That dagger had belonged to Alfred—Callum would recognize it anywhere. After all, it was Callum himself who’d given it to Alfred when he’d initiated him into the Order. His heart skipped a beat.
“Hand it over,” he growled.
Sophie looked a little startled by his tone but she did as he asked, tipping the items into his palm. Callum held up the pin. It had been snapped in half, possibly from where it had been violently yanked from its place in someone’s cloak but still he recognized the insignia: a serpent coiled around a dagger.
The mark of the Disinherited.
“How did ye know these were here?” he demanded, turning to Sophie.
“I didn’t! I just saw them lying over there!”
Callum ground his teeth. He placed his hand on his sword hilt and looked around the courtyard, expecting enemies to come pouring out of the buildings. Had Sophie led him into a trap? Was she an enemy after all? But nobody appeared and the courtyard remained still and silent. Whatever else had happened here, this was clearly where Alfred had come into contact with their enemies.
Anger burned in his belly and he rounded on Sophie, grabbing her by the shoulders. “What are ye playing at?” he growled. “Was it yer intent to lead me here? Have ye played me for a fool? Have ye been working for them all along?”
“I haven’t led you anywhere!” she cried. “I was following her! I saw her from the window of the inn, walking along the street right in front of my eyes. Can you believe that? As bold as brass! So I went after her. I’ve never seen this courtyard before in my life and I’ve no idea why that dagger and pin are here. I just saw them glinting in the light, that’s all!” She struggled in his grip. “Let go! You’re hurting me!”
Callum released her and stepped back. What was going on here? He could make no sense of it. He felt as though unseen eyes were watching him although the courtyard was empty.
“Come,” he growled. “Ye will give me some answers back at the inn.”
He grabbed her wrist firmly, but not so tightly that it would hurt her, and began pulling her towards the alley entrance.
“Wait!” she cried. “We have to find her! She was here!”
“Who, curse it?” he demanded. “Who are ye looking for? Look around ye, woman! There is nobody here but us!”
Sophie opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. All the fight seemed to go out of her and her shoulders slumped. “It was her,” she said, although now she sounded a little unsure. “It was my chance. My chance to go home.”
Callum’s anger abated a little. She looked so dispirited. “I dinna ken what ye are talking about, lass. Or what yer part in all this is, but we must get going.”
She didn’t fight him as he led her out of the alley and back into the street. They had to struggle their way through the crowds to return to the inn and Callum didn’t like it one bit. How many in that crowd were watching him? How many were enemies in disguise?
He was glad to reach the inn and step into its cool interior. Once they were back in their room, Callum shut the door and leaned against it, watching Sophie.
>
She crossed to the window and looked out, the expression on her face pensive.
“I think it’s time ye told me the truth,” he said. “Are ye a spy? Have ye been sent by my enemies?”
She whirled. “A spy? No! Why would you even think that?”
“What else am I to think when ye lead me to the mark of my enemy?” He held out the pin for her to see.
“Did you listen to a word I said?” she replied, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. “I don’t know what that thing is. I didn’t go looking for that. I was following her. I saw her through the window. Or I thought I did.” She threw up her hands. “Oh, I don’t know anymore! This whole situation is making me crazy.”
“The woman ye were following—is this the friend ye are looking for?”
“Yes! That’s why I left the inn. I was following Irene MacAskill.”
Callum’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t have been more stunned if she’d whacked him over the head with a saucepan.
“What did you just say?”
“I said that’s why I left the inn.”
“No. The name.”
“Irene MacAskill. She’s the one I need to find. Pretty damned desperately, actually.”
Callum suddenly felt as if the floor was tilting under him and he clutched at the wall for support. Irene MacAskill? Sophie knew her? How was this possible?
“Callum?” Sophie asked, frowning. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“How do ye know Irene MacAskill?” he snapped. “Tell me, lass! This is important!”
“Why do you care? What is she to you?”
“Just tell me!”
Sophie closed her eyes for a moment, pulling in a deep breath. “Irene brought me here. I was hoping she would send me back.”
Callum said nothing. Irene had brought Sophie to Scotland? Why would she do such a thing?”
He ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts tangling. Lord, he wished he had a flagon of whisky right now.
“Ye understand what she is?” he asked carefully.
