Page 8 of Desiring the Highland Laird (Highland Destiny #1)

Perhaps it was merely a coincidence she ended up here in this time with Callum.

But no, that couldn’t be right. She played the exchange with the shopkeeper in the antique store—Mystic Treasures?

—over and over in her mind. The shopkeeper alluded to something about her returning to her proper time.

The woman had called her Sinclair, as though she knew who she was from the moment she had stepped inside the store.

That didn’t make sense, did it? She was born in the future. That’s where she belonged. Not here in the past.

She made a decision then and there. She had to get the stone back from Callum and find a way to return home. She had to get back. She had to find Chloe.

A sharp knock on the door jarred her out of her thoughts. Startled, she spun to face the door.

“Yes?”

The door opened and an older woman bustled in.

She carried an armload of clothes and plopped them down on the bed, then turned to her with fisted hands on her hips.

She was tall with salt and pepper hair pulled back into a loose bun.

Sprigs of hair sprung out around her head.

She had a kind round face and friendly blue eyes.

“Och, Callum said ye were a beauty. He wasn’t wrong.”

“Who are you?” She didn’t bother to hide the suspicion in her voice.

The woman chuckled. “Roslyn. I try to keep the laird and his lads fed. My husband is the steward when they’re away. He also has a talent for healing. He came to check on ye earlier. He dinnae mean to frighten ye.”

“Oh,” was all Evie managed.

The woman went on as though she hadn’t spoken.

“’Tis a special thing to have them all here under one roof.

Well, all except Jamie.” She gave a wistful sigh, as though that was something that didn’t happen a lot.

“He’s off traveling the world after his shameful behavior.

” She sniffed derision at this, as if she was unhappy with the way Jamie had behaved about whatever it was.

Then she cut her a sheepish glance. “I shouldna have said a word about that. ’Tis not my place. ”

Evie cleared her throat and changed the subject. “You mentioned the laird?”

“Aye, lassie. Hamish.” She looked her over, eyeing her clothes. “Listen to me prattling on when there is work to be done. Callum said ye needed proper clothing. I see he was right.”

“Callum tells you a lot.”

She laughed. “Let’s get ye dressed and fed.”

“I thought Callum was returning with clothes,” she said, watching as the older woman sorted through the garments.

“It isna proper for him to be in here when ye dress,” she said. “Now, off with…” She paused, eyeing her black dress.

“It’s a dress,” Evie said.

“It doesna look like any dress I’ve seen.”

Evie wasn’t accustomed to being dressed by someone, so she hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I can dress myself,” she said at last.

The woman lifted a silver brow. “Can ye, now? Are ye sure about that?”

One glance at the pile of foreign clothes on the bed was her answer. Finally, she shook her head in defeat.

“Och, let me help ye.”

Evie relented. She reached behind her and unzipped her dress, shoving it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor at her feet. Her undergarments were a simple cream-colored bra and panties which Roslyn stared at for a good long moment, making her blush.

“It’s what we wear where I come from,” Evie muttered.

“Do ye now?”

She said nothing more as she reached for the chemise.

Evie pulled it on over her head. The soft material was cool against her skin as it fell to the floor.

Next, she handed her another gown for over the top of the chemise.

She pulled it on. The material was a heavy wool.

Next were thick stockings and shoes. One thing was for sure, she would be dressed for warmth here.

Once she was dressed, Roslyn eyed her hair. It made Evie self-conscious. She pushed her fingers through the locks and realized it was full of tangles.

“I suppose you want to take care of my hair next,” Evie said.

“Aye.”

She grinned and grabbed a brush. Moments later, Evie’s hair was brushed and pulled into a thick braid, pulled tight at her temples. Roslyn stood back and admired her handiwork.

“There now.” She stood back and gave her a once over. “The dress is a bit long for ye, but I suppose it will do for now. I can hem it up for ye.”

Evie glanced down to see that the hem of the gown she wore covered her feet and trailed the floor. Yes, it would definitely need hemming.

The woman waved at her to follow. She clutched the skirt in her hands and lifted it so she wouldn’t trip.

They exited the chamber, giving Evie her first look at the castle.

For a moment, she was struck by how magnificent it was.

They headed down the staircase and to the great hall, where there was a long table in the center and chairs on either side.

Callum and two other men were already seated there speaking in hushed tones.

They stopped talking and got to their feet when the women entered the room.

One man appeared older than Callum. She assumed this was the laird and his father. His aged face was graced by a thick, dark beard with streaks of white. There was a twinkle in his bright blue eyes that were much like Callum’s.

The other man was younger. He, too, resembled Callum.

His dark hair hung over his shoulders. Unlike Callum, he had a thick, full beard.

His eyes were the color of the sea after a storm, a sea-green she had never seen before.

Callum gestured to the chair next to him.

Aware all eyes were on her, she moved to his side of the table and sat in the chair.

Roslyn bustled out of the room, leaving her alone with the three men. Three strange men.

If she were in her time, it would be an awkward situation. Since it seemed she was in the past, she placed her hands in her lap and waited.

Who was she kidding? This was an awkward situation. Her hands broke into a clammy sweat. She glanced at the other two men who continued to stare at her.

“Well, are you going to stare at me or introduce yourselves?” she finally said.

The younger man glanced away, taking up a wooden spoon and digging into the bread bowl in front of him. The older man chuckled.

“She’s spirited,” he said.

“My da and laird, Hamish,” Callum said, gesturing at the older man. “And my younger brother, Malcolm.”

Malcolm lifted his head and gave her a nod of greeting. “’Tis a pleasure.”

Roslyn returned then and placed a bread bowl in front of her full of thick, hearty stew. She placed a wood tankard full of ale next to that. Evie peered at the brew. She was never a beer drinker, so having the ale in front of her made her cringe.

But the stew smelled delicious.

Callum angled his body so he could face her, his eyes still on her as she picked up her spoon. Annoyance flickered through her.

“While I do love the company,” she said, giving him the side eye, “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t stare at me while I eat.”

Hamish chuckled once again. He picked up his tankard and drained it.

But Callum did not turn away. She put down her spoon and met his gaze.

“What?” she demanded.

“Ye will have to forgive my brother,” Malcolm said. “He’s no seen a lass from the future before.”

“I assure you I’m like the women of your time.”

“Nay,” Callum said. “Yer different.”

She lifted a brow. “How is that?”

It was Malcolm who spoke. “Yer from the future. Ye have seen things we no have. He’s trying to decide if ye are from the future.”

Interesting. She looked at Malcolm and then tilted her head to one side as she thought about what he said.

He was astute to think such a thing. It was true he could not understand all the things in her world—like Internet, cell phones, and streaming music and TV.

But she found it fascinating that he had the forethought to consider it.

“I assure you I am,” she said, mostly to Malcolm but looking at Callum. “I’ve never been inside a castle such as this before.”

She was intrigued by being inside a live working medieval castle, a castle that had been built hundreds of years before she was even born. Life was different here. More difficult. There were no modern conveniences like running water, or—

Oh, God. There was no running water. No plumbing or electricity. No social media. No way to contact her sister.

Her sister. She slumped against the chair thinking of Chloe. Even if she had her phone, it wouldn’t work here.

“What’s wrong?” Callum asked.

Curse her face. She was never good at masking her emotions. She always wore her heart on her sleeve, making it apparent to the world at large what she was thinking and feeling. She shifted in her chair, unwilling to tell him about Chloe. Yet she had to find a way to get back to her.

“Am I stuck here forever? Where is the stone that brought me here?”

“The stone is in a verra safe place,” Callum said. “As for being stuck here—”

“We dinnae ken the power of the stone, lass,” Hamish said.

“What does that mean?” she demanded, her gut clenching into a tight knot.

She didn’t want to be here forever. She had to get back to her time, to Chloe. She had to make sure Bruce hadn’t done anything to hurt her.

“Surely you must know something about it,” she said.

Hamish started to reply, but Callum interrupted. “Nay.”

Hot tears pricked the backs of her eyes as the realization of her situation pounded through her. “So, I’m stuck here.”

Her gaze alighted on the three men around the table.

“With three strangers,” she added.

“Yer safe here with us,” Malcolm said.

“Am I?” She fisted her hands, trying to keep them from shaking. “I’m in a strange land. I don’t even know who you are.”

“I told ye,” Callum said.

“You said your name was Callum MacLeod but that doesn’t mean much to me. How do I know you’re not some murdering Scot?”

Hamish laughed out loud. He took another swig of his ale and then got to his feet, his chair scraping back along the floor. “She no understands where she is, laddie. Best tell her. Come on, Malcolm. Let’s give them some peace.”

Reluctantly, Malcolm rose and followed his father out of the great hall, leaving her alone with Callum, the big brute of a Scot who sat next to her, staring her down as though she were an oddity. She sighed and unclenched her fists.

“I suppose you think I’m crazy.” She pinned her gaze on the bread bowl in front of her, trying her best to keep her composure.

“Nay. I no think ye daft.”

“Well, that’s a comfort, I suppose.”

“How did the stone bring ye here?” he asked.

She glanced down at her hand in her lap, opening her fingers to see the red marks still there from the triquetra. They’d faded but were still evident.

“According to your father, I fell from the sky.”

“That’s no what I mean. How ?”

She understood then he wanted her to tell him how, exactly, she fell from the sky and into the past. As in what were the events leading up to that. She sighed.

“It’s a long story.”

“Ye must tell me,” he insisted.

“And if I do, does that mean you’ll believe me? For that matter, will you be able to send me back?”

He shook his head. “I dinnae ken.”

She studied him for a long moment, admiring his strong jaw.

There was intelligence deep in his eyes as he looked at her, intelligence and compassion and a kindness she had never seen before in any of the men of her time.

His shoulders were broad. The tunic he wore was smudged with dirt and sweat-stained, signs of a man who worked out.

Except this man didn’t work out at a gym, which made him far sexier than the men of her time.

His hair was long with two plaits on either side of his face.

He leaned his forearm on the table, which was thick with muscle and covered in a dusting of dark hair.

He was handsome.

And she was smitten.

Much to her dismay.

She didn’t believe in love at first sight. It wasn’t sensible, after all. There was no scientific evidence that it existed. Yet here she was with the literal man of her dreams.

Crap.

She may as well tell him everything. If she did, perhaps she could find her way back to the future, to her sister. She took a deep breath and expelled it.

“I’ll tell you what I know,” she said at last. “But first, can I finish my stew?”