Page 27 of Desiring the Highland Laird
“Come in,” she finally said.
The door creaked open. Roslyn popped her head in. Relief to see the woman flickered through her and she waved her inside.
“I came to see about ye.” She closed the door behind her. She eyed the pile of linens on the floor surrounding the chest. Evie flushed hot. “What happened here?”
“I, uh, was looking for something,” Evie said, floundering for an explanation.
“Did ye find it then, lass?”
“No.”
Roslyn picked up the discarded blankets and pillows and started making up the bed while Evie folded one of Callum’s tunics. It gave her pause. The man was broad-shouldered. She smoothed her hand over the linen.
“This is his.” It was an obvious statement, she realized.
“Aye, it is.” Roslyn fluffed the pillows. “What were ye looking for?”
“Oh, nothing.” Evie placed the tunic inside the chest, the final piece, and closed it.
It seemed silly to try to explain. She didn’t know how much the woman knew. What if she knew nothing? Then she would sound like a lunatic. The last thing she needed was to be locked away and branded a crazy person. She needed to find a way out of this situation and fast.
“Och, this room is freezing.” Roslyn set about building a fire in the hearth, placing the wood on the log holder.
Standing still, Evie realized she was right. A chill had set in and she hadn’t even realized it, likely because of her frenzied search for the stone. Now that she was standing still, she gripped her elbows and tried not to shiver. She glanced at the oversized bed piled with pillows and the thick quilt and resisted the urge to climb underneath and pull the covers to her chin. Perhaps if she did, she’d fall asleep and wake up to find this was nothing more than a terrible nightmare.
When Roslyn finished building the fire and the flames were bright and hot, she rose and surveyed the room.
“There. That’s better. Now, lass, tell me true. How are ye?”
Evie shrugged. “I don’t know how I should be feeling about anything.”
Understanding flashed over her face. “Ye’ve had a bit of a shock.”
“That’s an understatement,” she muttered.
Roslyn continued to peer at her as she moved to the side of the bed and perched on the edge. She patted the bed next to her.
“Come tell me, lass, what yer doing here and who ye really are.”
Her eyes flew wide with surprise as she looked at the woman. “What do you mean?”
“Och, do ye think me daft. I ken ye are of the English, even if Callum and his da dinnae want to admit it.”
“I don’t mean any harm,” she said by way of explanation.
She walked to the bed and sat next to the woman who seemed to want to comfort her even if she was an English stranger. For all she knew, England and Scotland were already at war with each other. She wasn’t great with remembering history. Chloe was the history major.
“I dinnae want to see him hurt,” Roslyn said, warning in her tone.
“Nor I. But you are right. I’m not from here. I’m—” She cut herself off from telling the woman she was from the future. “I’m not sure what to do now that I’m here.”
Roslyn reached for her and grasped her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Dinnae fash. All will be well.”
Hot tears sprang to her eyes as she thought about leaving Chloe behind. Her sister was over six hundred years in the future. If Callum wouldn’t allow her to use the stone to return home, then she was stuck here and she would never see heragain. It cut her deep to the core, especially after they had reunited after a long separation.
“What is it, lass?” She wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight, distress on her face.
She sniffed, trying to keep the tears from falling but it was impossible. “My…sister…” She gulped in a breath.
