by Emma Prince
Callum took the folded parchment from Eagan, instantly recognizing the MacBean seal on the red wax holding it closed.
“Thank ye,” he replied with a wave of one hand, effectively dismissing Eagan while keeping his attention fixed on the missive.
Laird Girolt MacBean certainly hadn’t wasted any time. It had only been yestereve that Callum had sent a note obliquely referencing an important matter that the recalcitrant Laird might be interested in resolving, and here was his reply this morning.
When the solar door thudded closed behind Eagan, Callum broke the seal and quickly scanned the missive.
To his satisfaction, MacBean had tersely agreed to meet Callum at Loch Darraig the following day to discuss the matter he’d alluded to, yet the man made no mention of Caroline Sutton. Surely if MacBean knew Callum had the strange English lass in his possession, he would have promised to give the MacMorans hell for taking her, or at least threatened Callum if he dared mistreat her.
Mayhap the lass’s disappearance from MacBean land had gone unnoticed thus far, but Callum found that hard to believe. Such a bonny woman could never go unnoticed.
Annoyed with the direction of his thoughts, Callum crumpled the terse missive and tossed it into the fire crackling in the solar’s hearth. Though Caroline had been kept under lock and key all night in the highest chamber in the east tower, her presence had hung like a thick Highland fog around Callum last evening and through the night.
He should have been able to set the matter aside after he’d sent the missive to Laird MacBean, but his mind kept returning to the odd lass. After several fitful hours of attempted sleep, Callum had given up and risen, retreating to his solar to escape further distraction.
Instead, he’d spent much of the morning pacing and chewing on her puzzling accent, strange comments, and outlandish garb. Thank God he would be rid of the woman tomorrow—assuming Laird MacBean agreed to a temporary truce in exchange for the lass’s return. Then his thoughts would be his own once more.
It seemed that until then, however, he would be plagued by visions of Caroline’s startlingly blue eyes, memories of her sharp tongue, and an image of her nigh bare body branded on his mind.
With a muttered curse, he spun on his heels and abandoned the solar. Without knowing where he was headed, he tromped down the west tower stairs. When he stepped into the great hall, his gaze landed on Tilly, who was backing out through the door that led to the kitchens, a tray laden with food in her arms.
“Ah, Laird,” Tilly said, glancing up at him. “I was just on my way to Mistress Caroline. I ken ye wish to see to yer…guest’s comfort, so I thought I’d bring the lass a wee bite to break her fast before the rest of the castle rises.”
It seemed fate was taking pleasure in toying with him, for here was yet another reminder of the woman he was trying so hard to banish from his thoughts.
He let a breath go. Mayhap instead of fighting it, he ought to face that which was so thoroughly preoccupying him. He had quite a few questions about Caroline’s origins and appearance on his border—questions Laird MacBean was unlikely to answer. Aye, at least this way he had a legitimate excuse to see her again.
“Allow me,” he said, striding toward Tilly and lifting the tray from her hold.
There was naught “wee” about the meal Tilly had assembled for Caroline. The tray was loaded with a bowl of porridge, a pitcher of fresh milk, a half a loaf of bread slathered with butter, a wedge of white cheese, several early-season apples from the orchard, and a pot of honey. Tilly took pride in feeding all those in the castle well, but the lass wasn’t some strapping Highland warrior.
Seeming to sense Callum’s skepticism over the quantity of food, Tilly folded her arms across her ample chest. “The lass went through quite an ordeal yesterday, to hear Bron and the others speak of the skirmish and how ye found and caught her. She needs to keep her strength up. Besides, that chamber is drafty and the walls are damp and cool even in July.”
That was true enough, but even if it wasn’t, Callum had learned from an early age not to challenge the stubborn cook. “My thanks, Tilly, for all yer care. Now, yer keyring, if ye please.”
With a grumbled comment about bull-headed Lairds, she unhooked the keyring from her belt and handed it to him while he balanced the tray in one hand.
Callum left Tilly behind as he strode toward the east tower stairs. As he began climbing, anticipation coiled in his stomach. With a change of clothes, a night of sleep, and another meal, he hoped Caroline Sutton would be willing to explain things a bit more clearly.
When he reached her chamber door, he didn’t bother knocking. Instead, he poised the tray on one hand again and shoved the key into the lock, turning it and pushing the door open in one motion.
“Tilly, how the hell am I supposed to do this? And I don’t have any clean underwear. What am I supposed to do, wear nothing under this stupid dress?”
The tray nearly went tumbling from Callum’s hand. Caroline stood with her back to him, fumbling with the ties that ran down the back of her gown. With the laces wide open, he got a full view of her chemise, as well as the sloping upper curve of her backside underneath.
“It’s no’ Tilly,” he managed to grind out.
Caroline whirled, her wide blue eyes fixing on him. Callum’s mouth went dry. This side of her was even worse. The gown’s blue wool hung off her shoulders and sagged in the front, leaving the creamy tops of her breasts on full display above the chemise.
Though he’d seen more of her skin when she’d been wearing those strange undergarments yesterday, this somehow felt far more intimate. They were in a bedchamber. Alone. And she stood before him with her dress nigh falling off.
“Oh!” Judging by the flush creeping from her chest to her cheeks, she too sensed the intimacy of the moment. She snatched her hands from behind her back and clamped them onto the gown’s bodice to keep it from slipping further. “What are you doing here?”
He tilted his head toward the tray. “Ye ought to eat,” he said brusquely. Clearing his throat, he added, “And I have a few questions for ye.”
When she swallowed and nodded, he closed the door and set the tray on the edge of the bed before turning back to her.
“What do you want to know?” she asked warily, tugging up the shoulders of her gown.
Callum muttered a curse. He wouldn’t be able to think straight if she continued to stand there half-dressed.
“Turn around,” he ordered, his voice coming out gruffer than he’d intended.
She shot him a guarded look, so he added, “I’ll no’ fetch Tilly away from her duties this morn to untangle the mess ye made of yer laces, so unless ye think ye can do it yerself…?”
Reluctantly, she gave him her back. She hooked a hand around her dark hair and scooped it over one shoulder. Callum had to grit his teeth against the sight of her milky, slim neck. He focused on the knotted ties to avoid staring at the faint blush at her nape, yet his hands still shook slightly as he began untangling them.
To distract himself, he cleared his throat again and spoke. “How did ye get here? To the MacBean-MacMoran border, that is.”
“I don’t really know where here is.” She glanced over her shoulder, and his fingers slipped on one of the laces. “Tilly said the year is 1394.”
He frowned, not following the lass’s abrupt pivot. “Aye, it is.”
Caroline closed her eyes for a long moment, then dropped her head. “Somehow this is real,” she muttered. “This is happening.”
Damn. She wasn’t making sense again, just like yesterday. “Ye dinnae remember how ye got here?” he tried again, at last freeing the ties from their knot. He tugged on the laces to cinch up the bodice of the gown, revealing her form underneath. She was slim, but her delicate curves were more than enough to fill a man’s hands.
Not mine, he told himself firmly as he worked the ties tighter.
“The last thing I remember was jumping off Leannan Falls.”
At last, she’d said something
coherent. “I’ve heard of those falls,” he commented.
Her head snapped up and she pinned him with another gaze over one shoulder. “You have?”
“Aye—well, only that they exist. They are past Edinburgh, near the border, aye?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Are we close, then?”
His hands stilled as he tied off the laces. Mayhap he’d been mistaken about her beginning to make sense. “Nay, lass. We are in the Highlands. Edinburgh is nigh a sennight’s ride from here.”
“A sennight—a week,” she murmured. “What the hell happened?”
“Why dinnae ye tell me?” Callum stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. Whether it was Caroline’s nearness or her strange answers to even his simplest questions, he found his thoughts muddled—and his patience wearing thin.
Seemingly in a daze, Caroline drifted toward the bed and sank down next to the tray of food. She absently picked at the bread, opening and closing her mouth several times as if to speak, but no words came. Finally, she lifted her head, and when her eyes met his, they were full of resignation.
“I’m from the future.”
Callum blinked. “What?”
“I’m from the twenty-first century. From a country called America. I was visiting Scotland with my sisters for a vacation. I guess you probably don’t know what a vacation is,” she muttered. “Anyway, on the last day of our two-week trip, we went to Leannan Falls. I talked everyone into jumping off the top. When we did, my sisters vanished and I popped up in that lake—”
“Loch Darraig,” Callum interjected, speaking slowly.
“Sure,” she replied. “There was a lot of spinning and bright lights, but suddenly I was just…there. And then you showed up, and there was that battle, and now here I am.”
Bloody hell. It was worse than Callum had initially thought. Aye, the lass had been cagey before, and downright odd at times, but he’d assumed it was because she knew she was in enemy hands. He hadn’t suspected that she’d fully lost her wits.
“Does this happen to ye often, lass?” Callum asked, trying to keep his voice level. “Falling back through time and waking up in a new place?”
Her lips tightened. “I’m not making this up.”
“Och, I ken ye believe what ye’re saying. But mayhap that’s the problem.”
She jerked to her feet then, squaring off with Callum despite the fact that he stood head and shoulders over her.
“I’m not crazy. I’m not lying. And I’m not confused.” Her dark brows pinched together. “Well, I’m confused as hell, actually, but I’m telling the truth. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, I need to figure out how to undo it.”
Callum laid gentle but firm hands on her shoulders and guided her back to the bed. “What ye need is to rest yer mind, lass. Try to eat a wee bit. Mayhap sleep some more.”
“No,” she snapped, squirming out of his hold. “I need to go back to that lake—Loch Darraig—and see if I can reverse whatever happened to me.” She began pacing in front of him, her skirts swishing against his leg every time she passed. “Maybe if I jump into the waters, I’ll be sucked back to Leannan Falls—and the present. Like some sort of portal or vortex or something.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but it seemed the words were meant more for herself than him. She stopped abruptly, fixing him with her piercing blue gaze.
“Take me back to Loch Darraig.”
“Nay,” he said without hesitation. The last thing he needed was an addle-witted Englishwoman wandering his lands. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to give up his leverage over Laird MacBean.
Guilt pinched his stomach to use her as a hostage of sorts now, seeing as how she wasn’t in her right mind. Yet the safety of his clan outweighed his concerns for one lass.
When her mouth fell open at his blunt denial, he added, “Ye are staying here until tomorrow morn, when I’m taking ye back to Laird MacBean. Ye are safe here until then, but ye’ll remain in this chamber.”
“I’m a prisoner, then?” she bit out.
“Call it what ye like, but ye arenae leaving.”
“You don’t understand.” Her voice was suddenly low and pinched, and her eyes grew damp. “My sisters are probably in the present right now, thinking I’m missing—or dead. I can’t leave them—not after what happened to our parents.” Her throat closed on the last word, making it little more than a croak.
Caroline swallowed, blinking away the tears, and tried again. “Look. It’s obvious I don’t belong here. I probably talk funny to you. And I doubt you come across many people in shorts and a tank top around here.”
She waved a hand toward the trunk against the wall, where she’d spread out the strange garments she’d been wearing yesterday. Perhaps that was what she’d meant when she’d said she needed more “underwear” earlier.
Callum’s gaze landed on a small scrap of soft pink fabric, and a matching object that appeared to be a series of straps attached to two rounded cups just about the same size as Caroline’s—
He coughed, ripping his eyes away from the pile of preposterous garments. “Aye, ye dinnae belong here on MacMoran land. But if ye mean aught to the MacBean, come tomorrow ye’ll be his problem, no’ mine.”
Callum turned to leave, his thoughts about this strange lass more muddled than when he’d arrived, but Caroline caught his arm.
“Please,” she said. Her hand felt like a small brand on his forearm. Awareness shot through him at the contact, and he sensed his resolve cracking.
Gritting his teeth against the desire to touch her in return, he willed his voice to be even. “I dinnae ken what happened to yer parents, lass, or where yer sisters are, but we are at war with the MacBeans. The MacMoran clan is my responsibility as Laird. I’ll have peace from Girolt MacBean in exchange for ye, and that is the end of it.”
He turned away and strode out the door. But even after he closed and locked it behind him, the image of her standing rooted with shock, her blue eyes wide and her lips parted, would not leave him.
Chapter Five
“Quit yer squirming, else I’ll bind ye again.”
Caroline shot Callum a glare. She was tempted to shift in his lap again just to annoy him, but she knew from experience that he wasn’t afraid to make good on that promise.
Earlier that morning, he’d fetched her from her chamber-prison and guided her by the elbow out of the tower. For a single heartbeat, hope had surged through her. It was the first time she’d been allowed to leave her room in the two days since she’d arrived.
But when he continued through the tower doors and into the courtyard, where a dozen men on horseback waited for them, her hope died. Of course. He was taking her to Laird MacBean to use as a bargaining chip.
He’d mounted a gray horse and pulled her up across his lap, as he had when he’d first caught her. Then he’d given a whistle, which was apparently the signal to the gathered men to ride out through the open gates.
Caroline had never been comfortable around horses. She preferred to move under her own power, at her own speed. That was why she’d never finished a degree at the University of Maine in Portland—she’d much rather spend a weekend hiking along the Appalachian Trail or slipping off to climb Mt. Katahdin than stay at home studying.
But the truth was, her awkward wriggling in Callum’s lap was only partly because she didn’t like being atop a horse. His rock-hard thighs under her bottom and his looming presence behind her were…unnerving.
Callum wasn’t like any man she’d met in her own time. For someone only a handful of years older than her, he was so confident and capable, so sure in his every motion and glance. That was probably because of his responsibility as Laird.
Of course he was also blunt, stubborn, and overbearing as well, but he didn’t scare her. Not truly. Despite his wolfish glares and brusque commands, he’d kept his word and hadn’t harmed her.
And although she tried not to let herself notice, he was undeniab
ly gorgeous. He was all hard lines and sinuous strength, from his chiseled jaw to the wall of his chest and the powerful thighs beneath her. She felt itchy and warm at every point where their bodies touched.
Or maybe that’s just this damn wool dress, she thought sourly.
Why the hell were her thoughts betraying her like this? Yes, Callum was attractive. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and corded with lean muscle. This morning, his eyes were the color of liquid honey and he’d bound his chestnut hair at the base of his neck with a piece of leather. He hadn’t bothered to shave the dark stubble dusting his strong jawline, but he’d obviously bathed, for he smelled of soap and clean linen and faintly of smoke and leather.
Caroline realized she was staring at him. She ripped her gaze away and shifted in his lap yet again. He responded with a low growl of warning.
What was wrong with her? She should have been plotting an escape now that she was out of the castle, not ogling her captor.
The problem was, she hadn’t been paying as close attention to her surroundings as she should have thanks to Callum’s discombobulating nearness. Shameful, considering that she’d thought herself something of a tree-hugging outdoorswoman back home in Maine.
Caroline scanned the surrounding woods. They were riding roughly southwest judging from the weak sunlight fighting through the clouds overhead. She’d learned over the course of this two-week trip that even in July, Scotland’s weather was fickle.
She wasn’t exactly sure where in the Highlands she was, but when she’d passed through earlier with her sisters, she’d identified quite a few familiar plants. Thank God her year as a botany major, followed by another year in the sustainable agriculture program at UMaine, hadn’t been a complete waste.
Yet she doubted that she’d be able to survive on wild blackberries and acorns for very long if she tried to make a break for it now. And she had no tools, no gear, nothing but the blue wool dress Tilly had given her and the plaid Callum had slung around her shoulders against the damp, cool morning air.
Besides, she was fairly confident that even if she somehow managed to wriggle off Callum’s lap and bolt into the woods, he’d be upon her like a hawk on a mouse, just as he had been two days ago.
