Exiles in Time (The After Cilmeri Series)

by Sarah Woodbury

  “Callum—” Cassie tried to pull away, but he caught her around the waist with his other hand.

  “Tell me.”

  Cassie dipped her head, staring at the brooch on Callum’s cloak. “No. Not like that. That’s not it.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Deep breath. “I ran into several men who mistook me for someone I wasn’t.”

  Anger boiled inside Callum and he deliberately eased the tightness of his hold on her, though he didn’t move away even an inch. “And?”

  “And I got away but not before two of them had arrows in them,” Cassie said. “I heard later that the men in question were nobles. Young, rich, and powerful nobles.”

  “Son of a b—” Callum bit off the word and ground his teeth. Rich and powerful young men were the same the world over—and apparently, in alternate universes and times, too. “Are you afraid you’ll run into them and they’ll remember you?”

  Cassie actually laughed. “If you were shot by a girl carrying a bow, wouldn’t you remember her?”

  “Did any die?” Callum said. “Do you know their names?”

  “One of them was a Douglass, I think, and a Cunningham from Dumfries,” Cassie said. “And no—I told you the truth when I said that I’d never killed anyone, not that I know of anyway.”

  “Well that’s both a surprise and a relief,” Callum said. “It wasn’t that I didn’t fear for you, a woman alone, but …”

  “I’ve been afraid a lot,” Cassie said, “but less so in recent years. I’ve found my place.”

  “And now I’m taking you out of it,” Callum said. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

  “You didn’t drag me. Don’t take that on yourself. I could go home right now.” She was still staring at his brooch. “I’m choosing not to.”

  Callum swallowed hard. She was very close and he really wanted to kiss her. He’d wanted to for days, but he couldn’t imagine worse timing than this. Still, he looked down at her—and found that she was already looking up at him. She put her hands on his chest. He had a second to think what is she doing? before she rocked him back on his heels by pushing up on her toes and pressing her lips to his.

  Callum held still, afraid that by doing anything other than accepting the kiss she offered he would ruin everything. But then she put her arms around his neck and he was able to pull her tight against him.

  “So … are you coming or not?”

  James Stewart’s drawl came from behind Callum. Cassie and Callum broke the kiss, but Callum didn’t let her go and they stood with their foreheads just touching. “Yes,” Callum said.

  “Glad to hear it,” said James.

  Hiding a smile, Cassie bit her lip and peered over Callum’s shoulder. At that point, Callum had to give in and look also. James sat on his horse, resting his forearm on his saddle horn and laughing.

  “I called a rest a half mile up the road,” said James. “I mean for the company to continue as soon as I return.”

  “We were just talking,” Callum said.

  “Talking,” said James. “I’ll remember that one.”

  Cassie kept her face averted, but her shoulders shook as she fought laughter. And then Callum laughed too.

  Cassie had kissed him!

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cassie

  It had been at least a year since Cassie had been inside any castle but Mugdock, and to call both Doune and Mugdock castles was to wildly underestimate Doune and exaggerate Mugdock. Mugdock was a fort, of the same stature and utility as a fort out on the plains when the American west was ‘wild’ (though not, of course, to the Indians who were there first). Twice as large, built in stone to withstand a long siege, Doune was a different matter entirely.

  If Cassie had been riding her own horse, she might not have gone inside at all. But short of sliding off the back and fleeing—from Callum, society, everything—she had no choice but to enter it.

  She was still shaking inside from when she’d kissed Callum. Although Cassie had been raised in a world where holding hands and kissing were something you did twenty seconds into a first date—sometimes before you’d even figured out whether or not you really liked the guy—that world was far away. To people here, Cassie might as well have a sign on her forehead that said Callum’s. Compounding her confusion was the fact that she had kissed him, not the other way around, and effectively taken their relationship to another level. She didn’t know what she was going to do with herself or Callum now.

  “That’s real power in the medieval world,” Callum said as he and Cassie watched James drop to the ground and become instantly besieged by advisers and sycophants.

  While Walter had ridden to rescue James at the little village, he’d also sent messengers to Stirling Castle and in the cardinal directions, rousing those loyal to the Stewarts. The men he’d called had responded—more than responded—and the bailey was filled with men and horses.

  Callum held Cassie’s arm as she dismounted, followed suit, and then tossed the horse’s reins to the stable boy who ran to take them. Callum clasped Cassie’s hand in his. “Don’t run away on me.”

  “How did you know I was thinking about it?”

  “I can see it in your face. You look wary again, more so than the whole time we’ve been together.” He looked down at her. “Considering what we’ve been through since we met, that’s saying something.”

  “They’re going to want me to wear a dress,” Cassie said.

  “True.” Callum canted his head as he looked at her. “Is it the dresses themselves that you don’t like, or what they symbolize?”

  Cassie ground her teeth. That was way too perceptive for him to have said out loud.

  “Besides,” he said, “today their expectations are their problem, not yours. If you don’t want to wear a dress, we’ll find some other clothes for you. You can at least be clean.”

  “I haven’t found medieval people to be as tolerant as you have,” Cassie said.

  “I know,” Callum said. “But my patron is the King of England and that means that I—and the woman with me—can do pretty much whatever we damn well please.”

  A man hurried up to them and bowed. “My name is Amaury, my lord. I’m the steward of Doune. May I guide you to your quarters?”

  “That would be delightful,” Callum said.

  The steward’s eyes skated over Cassie and he looked quickly away, though he managed a bow in her direction. “Madam.”

  Cassie tried to look as if this treatment was normal and stopped herself from shrinking into Callum’s side. Instead, she nodded back as magnanimously as she could manage. What did she care what this man or anyone else thought about her relationship with Callum?

  The great hall and the lord’s private apartments had pride of place on the north side of the castle. Cassie and Callum were taken to a building on the western side that consisted of several wooden structures built against the curtain wall. Storage areas, an adjacent kitchen, and a bath room took up the lower level. Above were guest apartments, one of which the steward gave to Callum, and then he opened the door to an adjacent room for Cassie. She peered inside. Eight pallets covered the floor. This was where the women slept.

  Cassie eyed Callum, who still stood in the doorway of his room, watching her. He was the king’s emissary, so of course he got his own room. The steward bowed, indicating that he would return to escort them to the bathing room when it was free, and in the meantime would send up food and new clothing. The instant his back was turned, however, Callum stepped towards Cassie, grabbed her elbow, and tugged her into his room.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “I want to talk to you and I certainly can’t hang out in your room while I’m doing it,” Callum said.

  “This is very Indian of you.” Cassie closed the door behind her.

  “How do you mean?”

  “You know what the rule is—unmarried girls should never be alone with a man in his room—and you’re breaking it anyway w
hen nobody is looking,” Cassie said. “I approve.”

  Callum sat on the bed, sinking into it with a sigh. “It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

  Cassie leaned against the door. “My senior year in high school, my family traveled the pow wow circuit—dancing—so I missed a lot of school. I had straight A’s, but the school counselor only cared that I wasn’t in class like I was supposed to be.”

  “She sounds like a bitch,” Callum said.

  Cassie laughed. “My mother actually called her a racist bitch.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Kept dancing,” Cassie said. “We didn’t make a fuss; we didn’t protest or ask to see the principal; we just quietly continued as we’d been.”

  “That’s exactly what you’ve done here, in the Middle Ages, isn’t it?” Callum said. “You’ve gone your own way and if someone objects to how you dress or talk, you avoid them and keep doing what you’re doing.”

  A gleam appeared in Callum’s eye making Cassie almost sorry she’d started this conversation. He was trying to figure her out. And she was letting him. “You should have seen the counselor’s face when I won an arts scholarship to college for my traditional dancing and she had to present me with the award.”

  Callum laughed with Cassie but then sobered. “We all impose our own cultural expectations on other people. When I first came to the Middle Ages, I didn’t expect an opportunity to bathe at all. I believed the stories that medieval people lived in squalor.”

  Cassie scoffed. “They used to say that about Indians too.”

  “Exactly. On my first day, Meg told me that while it was always difficult for peasants to bathe in winter, the habit of not bathing came about among the nobility during the Spanish Inquisition when nobody wanted to be confused for a secret Jew.”

  “I hope you didn’t ever mention that to Samuel,” Cassie said.

  “Of course not.” Callum flopped full length on his back on the bed with one arm above his head. Cassie walked to the bedside and looked down at him. He took her hand, gazed at her for half a second, and then pulled her down on top of him.

  Cassie whuffed a laugh as she collapsed onto his chest. Then she wiggled away so she could lie on the bed beside him, though he wrapped both arms around her to keep her close. Cassie capitulated and put her head on his chest. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to.

  “That’s better,” he said.

  “You’re insane,” Cassie said. “This is improper, even for me.”

  “I thought you didn’t care what people thought?” Callum said.

  “I didn’t say I didn’t care,” Cassie said. “I just don’t care enough to do what they want.”

  “That is a conundrum.” Callum gave Cassie a quick squeeze. “Still, I can’t say I’m currently sorry about any of this.”

  Cassie closed her eyes, deciding she could live with being this close to him for now. The worry of the last few days seeped out of her body and into the bed covers. Given how soft the mattress was, it had to be made of down. In other words, it was expensive. At least it hadn’t rained recently, so they weren’t getting it wet.

  “I may never move again,” Cassie said. “I slept okay last night, but I still feel like I could sleep for a week.”

  “Fine by me.”

  A few minutes passed, but to Cassie’s surprise, sleep didn’t overtake her. “Callum?” Cassie said.

  “Yes?” Callum’s voice, on the other hand, was thick with impending sleep.

  “Do you know what you’ve never told me?”

  Silence.

  “Your last name.”

  “Callum is my last name,” he said. “Somewhere along the way, the family dropped the ‘Mac’.”

  Cassie pushed up so she could see his face. His eyes stayed closed.

  “That’s what I’ve always gone by,” he said. “I never thought about mentioning it.”

  “So what’s your first name, then?”

  “Alexander,” Callum said.

  “You don’t look like an Alexander,” Cassie said.

  “That’s why I go by Callum.” His arm had relaxed onto the covers, but he lifted one hand and gently rubbed her arm.

  Cassie looked around the room, taking in the thick blue drapes around the four-poster bed and the woven tapestry of a stag hunt on the wall. Her mind was whirring away about everything that had happened since she met Callum and didn’t want to stop. Somewhere along the way, probably about the time she’d kissed Callum and he’d kissed her back, she’d gotten a second wind. “What happens next?” she said.

  “Bath.” Callum’s eyes were still closed. “Food. Bed.” He really was tired if he was speaking in one word sentences.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Cassie said.

  “Oh—you mean what’s next for us? Well, since you kissed me and now have compromised my virtue by coming in here and lying on my bed, I guess you’ll have to rescue my reputation by marrying me.”

  “Callum,” Cassie said.

  Callum opened one eye. “What? You’re not going to do the right thing by me?” He surveyed Cassie for a second and then sat up. He had that look about him that told Cassie he didn’t feel as flip about marriage as he was trying to sound. Like he actually might be serious.

  “Talk to me.” He weaved his fingers through hers.

  “I meant, what’s going to happen next for Scotland?” Cassie said. “Our trip to Stirling Castle. The succession and all that.”

  Callum took in a deep breath, bent back his head to look at the canopy above their heads as if asking God for patience, and then lay back down, pulling her with him. He closed his eyes again. “Given the muster of men and horses at Doune, I’d say we’re looking at war. Or something like it.”

  “Can’t anything be done?” Cassie said. “Can nothing stop it?”

  “You’re the one who said that we were talking about the MacDougalls verses the Bruces,” Callum said. “Daddy Bruce is already on his way to Dunstaffnage. We can’t do anything about his choices.”

  “But we can stop this from getting worse.” This time when Cassie sat up, she sat cross legged on the bed, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hand. “You’re the king’s emissary. You speak for him.”

  “So I’ve been told,” Callum said, “but Kirby is the one he charged with negotiating among the Scottish barons, not me.”

  “Kirby’s gone off with Daddy Bruce,” Cassie said. “You’re the only one left.” She stabbed a finger towards the bailey. “Stewart is marshaling men even as we speak. Who’s he planning to march on?”

  Callum groaned and levered himself to a sitting position. He hung his head. “I was looking forward to my nap.” And then he visibly shook himself and rose to his feet. “Come on. A time traveler’s duty is never done.”

  They found James Stewart in the great hall, conferring with his captains. They huddled around a rough map of Scotland, which was held to the table by stones on the corners. James hadn’t had a chance to bathe either.

  As Cassie and Callum approached, Callum put his mouth to her ear. “Did you shoot any of these men four years ago?”

  Aargh! He’d made her laugh again. “No,” Cassie said.

  Several of the men raised their eyebrows at Cassie’s approach, since she was still dressed as she had been, in shirt, breeches, sweater, and cloak. Their expressions ranged from shock to amusement. Cassie ignored them all. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t used to it. Most likely (and most annoyingly), it was only the fact that Cassie was clasping Callum’s hand that made them treat her politely.

  “I’m glad you came, Cassie,” said James. “I suspect you know the terrain north of Mugdock better than any of us.”

  Cassie could have kissed him for being so welcoming, and she felt bad for maligning him in her head. “I don’t know about that, my lord, but I will help if I can.”

  James turned to Callum and bowed. “Doune is honored by your presence, my lord. I am sorry that we haven’t welcomed you
to Scotland properly before this.”

  “Thank you,” Callum said.

  James then introduced some of the men around the table. They included Andrew Moray, who evidently hadn’t been included in the MacDougall raid, Patrick Dunbar, James’s brother-in-law, and a half-dozen other noblemen whose names Cassie instantly forgot.

  “What are your intentions?” Callum said.

  “We have word that Bruce is hard beset. The MacDougalls didn’t run as he’d hoped, and they set an ambush for him on the road to Dunstaffnage,” Andrew Moray said. “It is thanks to you that we have so many men already mustered to relieve him.”

  “How so?” Callum said.

  “You sent one of your men, Liam, to Stirling, and he has roused the countryside on our behalf,” Andrew said.

  Tension Cassie hadn’t known she’d been feeling left her shoulders. She was very glad they hadn’t sent Liam to his death.

  Callum rubbed his chin. “Why doesn’t Bruce retreat?”

  The rest of the men stared at him in disbelief. “Retreat?” said James, as if he had never heard the word before and didn’t understand its meaning.

  “You would allow the MacDougalls’ act of war to go unchallenged?” Andrew said. “You of all people cannot condone what they’ve done.”

  “I don’t,” Callum said. “And yet, you plot as if your country has no leaders. What of the Guardians? Shouldn’t it be they who bring the MacDougalls to justice?” It was essentially what he’d said to Daddy Bruce a few days ago.

  “The Black Comyn is one of those Guardians,” Andrew said. “Bruce burned him out. How likely is it that he will abandon his allies and work with Lord Stewart?”

  “You won’t know until you ask,” Callum said, “and surely taking a moment to convene the Guardians—not to mention Parliament—is better than all-out war. The MacDougalls aren’t going anywhere.”