by Emma Prince
“And I need to get back to Leannan Falls. Won’t I be more of a distraction under your nose here at the castle than if you just turned me loose?”
“No’ if ye might fall into danger,” he replied quietly.
This was like arguing with a rock. What else was she supposed to say to make him see reason? Desperation tightened her throat. What if she was stuck here—in Scotland, in the past, in this damn room—for the rest of her life? What if she never found her sisters again?
Her heart contorted at the thought. It had been one year exactly since she and her sisters had lost both their parents in the blink of an eye. Ever since the car crash, the fear of losing Hannah and Allie had lurked like a monster in the back of Caroline’s head.
And now that monster had come to life.
Caroline had always been the “free spirit” of the family, the easy-going one, the one who found the fun and adventure in every situation. But behind her laid-back façade, Caroline was still just the baby of the family, both to her parents and her sisters. She’d never been without at least one of them looking out for her.
Until their parents had died, she’d always been confident and relaxed—because she’d always had a safety net under her. When she’d left UMaine without a degree and picked up a job as a barista not far from her parents’ house in Mayport Bay, she’d known that if things got really bad, she could work in her parents’ flower shop, or even move back in with them.
Allie was always around and up for a late-night cookie baking and gab session. And although Hannah had moved out of state years before, her older sister never failed to come through with life advice for the wayward, anchorless Caroline.
But all that had been stripped away, first by the car crash, and then by that damned waterfall. She was alone. An orphan without her sisters to protect her.
Tears burned her eyes as she stood there, feeling helpless and cold. But she couldn’t give up. Not yet. Not when there was still a chance that she could get back to her family through the falls.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she tried again. “You have a sister, right? Thora?”
Callum turned, eyeing her warily. “Aye.”
“I take it she doesn’t live here anymore, given the fact that I’m apparently going to take over her old wardrobe.”
“She married the Grant Laird’s son four years past. Neil takes good care of her and their wee bairn Jamie,” he said, his voice gentling slightly.
“Imagine if she just disappeared one day, and you didn’t know if she had been kidnapped or killed or what. Wouldn’t you do everything in your power to get her back?”
The softness that had briefly loosened his features a moment before disappeared instantly. “Aye, I would.”
“Then you can understand why I need to find my sisters. The best chance of that is if I go back to Leannan Falls.”
He gave a terse shake of his head, though she didn’t miss the way his eyes flashed with regret. “Ye arenae well in the head, lass,” he said quietly. “I cannae in good conscience send ye to the falls. If MacBean doesnae catch ye, some other bastard looking to take advantage of ye will.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “So you’re going to—what? Keep me locked up in this room for the rest of my life? Make me your prisoner forever?”
Callum muttered a curse, raking his fingers through his damp hair again. “I dinnae ken what to do with ye.”
Caroline latched onto the single thread of uncertainty in his voice as if it were a lifeline. She racked her brain for something, anything, she could say to persuade him that she wasn’t crazy, and that he should let her return to the falls.
“What if…” she began, not knowing where she was headed. “What if I could somehow prove to you that I really am from the future? That I’m not crazy?”
He lowered his dark brows, but he waited for her to go on.
“If I could convince you, would you let me go?”
Amber eyes shining with skepticism, he considered that for a moment.
“Ye wish to strike a bargain, then?”
“Yes,” she hurried on. “If I prove to you that I’m not nuts, you’ll give me my freedom.”
He cocked his head. “Go on.”
Shit. Now that she’d finally stumbled upon a way to escape her confinement, she actually had to come up with proof that she’d time-traveled here from the future.
If only her smartphone had traveled back with her. That would convince him quickly enough that she wasn’t from this time. But of course she’d left it at the top of the falls with her purse when they’d jumped. There were a million things she could tell him about the future, but he probably wouldn’t believe most of it, and she’d come off as even crazier.
Maybe she could tell him something about his own time, but something that could only be known after the fact.
She frantically scanned her brain for all the tidbits of history and trivia she’d learned about Scotland in the last two weeks. A highlight reel of all of Scotland’s biggest historical moments flickered through her mind. William Wallace. Robert the Bruce. No, both of those heroes were long gone. The Battle of Culloden hadn’t happened yet—and wouldn’t for just about three hundred and fifty years. Her bones would be dust long before then.
She needed something closer to 1394. 1394. Something about the year tickled the back of her brain. Damn it, she should have been paying more attention to all the plaques and markers explaining the history of the places she and her sisters had visited in the last two weeks rather than taking pictures of plants and lochs and the occasional crumbling castle or abbey.
Abbey. Like a piece in a jigsaw puzzle, something snapped into place in Caroline’s mind. Dunfermline Abbey. 1394.
“King James I!” She blurted.
“What?”
Caroline drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to remember every detail about what she’d learned when she and Hannah and Allie had visited Dunfermline Abbey. If she’d known then that her entire life might hang on this one historical footnote, she might not have spent so much time scrolling around on her phone inside the abbey.
“King James I of Scotland is going to be born at Dunfermline Abbey in late July of this year,” she said. Her eyes popped open. “Possibly on the twenty-fifth of July.”
She looked up to find Callum’s wolf eyes narrowed. “I have heard that the Queen Consort carries another of King Robert’s bairns.”
Caroline snapped her fingers. “Anabella Drummond and Robert III, right?” At Callum’s cautious nod, she went on. “Well, she’s going to have a boy, and his name will be James.”
“But ye called him King James,” Callum prodded. “Queen Anabella has already borne two male bairns in line for the crown—an heir and a spare.”
Caroline hesitated. The reason King James’s birth had lingered in her memory was because by the time he was twelve, both his parents and his two older brothers had died. The third son abruptly became the rightful King of Scotland. The idea of a boy so young losing his entire family had saddened and moved her.
But how much should she tell Callum? What were the ethical implications of revealing the future to someone who would live through those events? Did she risk changing the timeline—and therefore the course of history?
Callum was waiting on her answer, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“He will eventually become King James I,” she hedged. “The important part is that Queen Anabella will birth a son, whom she’ll name James, on July twenty-fifth.”
“That is less than a fortnight from now.”
“Yes.”
Caroline held her breath as Callum stood considering. At last, he spoke again.
“Verra well. I’ll send a missive to Dunfermline to request express notification of the birth of the King and Queen’s bairn. Word of the birth of another heir will likely spread quickly, even here in the Highlands, but I dinnae want any of the details lost in transit.”
“Thank you,” she bre
athed, her heart rising to her throat. “And when you get confirmation that what I say is true, you’ll let me go?”
He rubbed a hand over the bristle on his jawline for a moment. “I’ll do ye one better. Ye wish to go to the falls outside of Edinburgh, aye? I’ll take ye there myself to ensure yer safe passage.”
“Really?” Caroline blurted. “Why?”
“A lass like ye…” Callum’s eyes glowed with some unreadable intensity. “Ye shouldnae make such a journey alone—no’ with MacBean and all manner of ruffians out there. I willnae allow harm to befall ye.” He cleared his throat. “In exchange, however, I’d ask two things of ye.”
“What?”
“First, ye’ll be permitted free rein of the castle—but ye must agree to stay within the walls at all times. I cannae have ye roaming the Highlands freely with MacBean so keen to take ye for his own aims.”
Caroline swallowed. She didn’t like the idea of remaining stuck in the castle, but it was better than being locked in this dim, lonely chamber for another two weeks. “Agreed. And your second condition?”
“No more mad attempts at escape.” He glared down at his still-wet boots. “Into lochs or otherwise.”
To her surprise, Caroline had to repress a grin. “I can agree to that, too—I’ll stay within the castle walls and won’t try to escape until you get word that James has been born.”
“If,” he said evenly. “No’ until—if I learn that what ye’ve said is true.”
“You don’t believe it’s possible, do you?”
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Nay, I dinnae, but if agreeing to take ye to Leannan Falls when I see pigs fly will buy me a fortnight of peace around the castle, I’d make that promise, too.”
She should have been indignant that he’d basically admitted to making a deal he never planned to have to uphold, but hope filled her to brimming, leaving room for nothing else. Two weeks was a long time to be stuck here in medieval Scotland—and a long time to be apart from her sisters without being able to alert them of her safety—but at least now she had a plan.
“I didn’t think it was possible, either,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around her damp dress. “But then it happened.”
“A word of warning, lass.”
At Callum’s serious tone, she stiffened. “Yes?”
“Dinnae speak as freely with others as ye have with me. I believe ye arenae right in the head—forgive me,” he added quickly before going on. “But others…ye speak of moving through time and gateways and predicting births and deaths. Some might call that black magic.”
A chill that had nothing to do with her wet clothes raced up Caroline’s spine. She didn’t have to be a scholar to know what had happened throughout history to women who’d been accused of witchcraft. Sure, the fervor for burning witches wouldn’t start for another hundred years or so, but Caroline wouldn’t take any chances.
All the more reason she needed to get back to her own time.
Caroline nodded, her throat suddenly too tight to speak.
Callum strode out the door, leaving her alone with a whole new set of fears to consider.
How the hell was she going to survive another two weeks here?
Chapter Eight
Despite the fact that her chamber door hadn’t been locked yesterday, Caroline had found herself loath to venture down the stairs. Tilly had kindly brought her a whole trunk of garments, including linen chemises, stockings, indoor slippers, more practical leather half-boots, and several wool gowns dyed in an assortment of colors. Plus, the cook had indulged Caroline’s sudden hesitancy and brought food to her room.
But now that she’d gotten a good night of sleep and morning sun streamed in through the open window, Caroline knew she’d done enough wallowing. She had roughly two weeks until Callum would receive confirmation of King James’s birth. She didn’t plan on spending that entire time hiding in her room like a coward.
She had no idea just how she’d pass the time inside the castle’s walls, but there was only one way to find out. Shoving aside her lingering uncertainty, she lifted the skirts of her forest-green gown and marched downstairs.
When she reached the enormous room at the bottom, though, she almost turned tail and fled.
The space bustled with activity. Servers carried trays of steaming porridge, pots of honey, pitchers of milk, and loaves of fresh bread among the overcrowded tables and benches, which had been pulled from the walls into the center of the room. Roughly three dozen men and women ate and talked noisily, oblivious to Caroline.
Until suddenly they all seemed to notice her at once. Heads turned, mouths froze, and eyes swept her curiously. They’d probably all heard about her by now— word of an outsider would spread like wildfire, if medieval castle life was anything like life in small-town coastal Maine.
Caroline scanned the faces of those gathered for the morning meal, but she didn’t recognize anyone until her gaze landed on Eagan. She hadn’t seen the small-framed, sharp-eyed man since that first day, but with no other familiar faces, she tentatively approached him.
“Eagan, right? I’m Caroline.”
The man’s mouth turned down behind his neatly trimmed gray and brown beard. He muttered something in Gaelic before grudgingly rising from his bench.
“What do you want, Mistress Caroline?”
“I…um…” Where to start? She wouldn’t mind eating, but she would rather get her bearings first. And it would make life easier—even for just the next two weeks—if she knew more than just Tilly, Eagan, and Callum.
“Maybe a tour?” she said, feeling unaccountably nervous under the man’s cool blue-gray stare.
“Tilly can look after ye,” he said, sounding slightly annoyed. “Come.”
Without waiting, he set off at a brisk pace toward the back of the room where the serving girls were going in and out of a swinging door. He pushed through, Caroline hurrying to keep up.
She stepped into a chaos of steaming pots, blazing fires, and a crush of servers and kitchen workers hustling about their tasks. In the center of it all was Tilly, a wooden spoon in each hand and her frizzy red hair billowing wildly around her head.
Tilly was shouting orders to one of the women stirring porridge over the fire, but she cut off her command when her gaze landed on Eagan and Caroline.
“Unless the castle is aflame, I’m busy,” she said even before Eagan spoke.
“The lass wants a tour,” Eagan said sourly.
“Ye are the seneschal,” Tilly replied, dipping one of her spoons into a porridge pot. “It seems to me ye ought to show Mistress Caroline about.”
“More important matters fill my time.”
Tilly shot him an oh really look under lowered eyebrows, but then she sighed. “Margaret, keep an eye on things, dearie. Mind that bread, too. Daughter or nay, I willnae abide burned bread.”
Margaret, a woman who appeared to be a younger version of Tilly, bobbed a curtsy and took over the wielding of Tilly’s wooden spoons.
Eagan murmured something in Gaelic once again before vanishing through the swinging door.
“What did he say?” Caroline asked.
Tilly wiped her hands on her apron and snorted. “Naught ye need to hear. Suffice it to say that Eagan is verra self-important—so much so that he apparently doesnae feel he needs to abide by the Laird’s order to speak English in yer presence.”
“But he can speak English, obviously,” Caroline said, dodging out of the way of a young woman carrying two trays laden with food out of the kitchen.
“Och, aye, we all do.” Tilly shot her a wry smile. “The English have given us Scots enough hell over the generations that I suppose we all learned their tongue along the way. Eagan just has a stick up his arse—beg pardon, Mistress.”
Tilly pushed her way through the hubbub toward the swinging door, waving for Caroline to follow her. “The rest of the clan will obey the Laird’s directive to speak English near ye so that ye arenae left in the dark. But if a certain grumpy s
eneschal mutters a word in Gaelic now and then, rest assured ye arenae missing much. He just thinks that because he was running this castle for the previous Laird even before our Callum was born, he kens best in all things.”
Tilly came to a halt in the big room bustling with the morning meal. “Well now,” she said, patting down her hair. “Ye’ve seen the kitchens and the great hall, so that part of the tour is done.”
Great hall. Caroline filed away the word for the massive room they stood in. It sounded vaguely familiar from the various castle tours she and her sisters had gone on, but only now that she had to live in a castle for two weeks did she pay attention to the terms.
Tilly guided her up the stairs on the west side of the great hall, pointing out various chambers and storage rooms as she went. She showed Caroline Callum’s solar, which was simple and tidily appointed. A wooden desk and matching chair took up much of the space, along with a cabinet for ledgers and writing supplies. The hearth was empty and cold—Callum must not have been in here this morning.
As Tilly took her back through the great hall and to the east tower, curiosity at Callum’s whereabouts continued to tug at her. When Tilly halted in front of the landing one floor below Caroline’s room and announced, “The Laird’s bedchamber,” Caroline’s stomach did a strange little flip.
He’d been sleeping right below her this whole time? Caroline gave herself a little shake. Why did that matter to her?
Tilly pushed open the door, and to Caroline’s horror, she instantly pictured catching Callum in his bed. Maybe he’d be shirtless, the bedding bunched around his lean hips. Maybe he’d pin her with one of those melted-honey stares to see her standing in his bedroom door.
But of course when the door swung open, the chamber was empty and silent. Caroline felt a blush at her ridiculous thoughts rise to her face.
She glanced quickly around the room, noticing the intricate tapestry on one wall, the enormous four-poster bed taking up another, and a large wooden armoire, table, and chair on the third. His chamber had a brazier in one corner, as hers did, but unlike in the solar, embers glowed in the metal grate, a reminder that he’d slept here.
