Page 22 of Desiring the Highland Laird
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?”
Chapter Seven
When she hadfinished eating, she sat back in the chair and emitted a sigh of contentment. It was, by far, the best stew she’d ever had in her life. Even if the meat did taste a bit gamey. She even polished off the bread bowl and tankard of ale. Callum had wandered off, leaving her alone in peace while she ate. Now that she was finished, she took in her surroundings.
The great hall was a large room with an enormous fireplace at one end. A fire crackled in it, emitting a warm and inviting glow. She rose from the table and walked the length of the hall, marveling at the fact that she was in a live, working medieval castle.
Massive tapestries hung along the stone walls. Rushes covered the floor, emitting a sweet smell. She had no idea of time much less what day it was. All she knew was that she had traveled back in time to the mid-thirteen hundreds.
She glanced down at the markings still faint on her palm. That strange little stone had brought her here.
Something the shopkeeper said came back to her about the Isle of Skye.
You’ll visit there soon in your proper time.
What did she mean she would visit in her “proper time?” That didn’t make sense at all.
“Och, lassie, I see ye finished yer evening meal.” Callum’s voice echoed through the great hall.
She turned to face him as he walked toward her. Her breath caught. He was rugged and handsome in a way that belonged to another time, another era, another world. Untamed. Unrefined.Irresistible.
When he left her, his tunic was dirty and well-worn. Now that he’d returned, it appeared he had put on a fresh one that was no longer sweat stained or smeared with dirt. He had a long plaid that wrapped around his waist and torso with a pin holding the ends together over one shoulder. The plaid was a deep green with faint yellow and red stripes.
She was momentarily taken aback by his appearance and wondered if he was trying to impress her. She suppressed a grin. She was impressed.
“Callum, where is this place?”
His brows drew together, question flickering through his gaze. “This place?”
She waved her hands to encompass her surroundings. “This castle.”
He tipped his head to one side. “Dundale Castle has been our home for the last several years.”
Dundale.
The shopkeeper told her the name of the castle in the picture was Dundale on the Isle of Skye. Where she would visit in her “proper” time.
“And it’s…on the Isle of Skye?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“How far is it from, say, Edinburgh?”
“Edinburgh is on the other side of Scotland, lass. Several hundred miles southeast.” His tone was kind and patient, as if he understood she would have a lot of questions.
Nodding, she did a turn through the room, looking up at the soaring rafters that no modern builder would have built. This was a marvel.
“I think…” she said slowly. “I think I was meant to come here.”
“How do ye ken?” he asked.
Evie paused, clutching her elbows as a strange shiver went through her. “I promised I’d tell you the story. I’m not even sure where to begin.”
He moved toward her, his steps slow. When he was within arm’s length, he reached a hand to her. Her heart did one wild erratic beat before she took it. He wrapped his fingers around hers, then led her to the table where he motioned for her to sit. She did. He took the chair opposite her.
