Chapter 3
“Who sent ye to these chambers?” Dougal repeated, fighting to stay calm.
He had a bad temper at the best of times, but finding a strange woman in his castle who possessed an equally strange stone that carried the reflection of her was enough to make him boil over.
This was a trick or a threat, and he did not favor either, even if the package was wrapped up in a breathtaking exterior.
She is dressed oddly.
He wondered if it was part of the trick to dress herself in men’s clothing—black trews, a dark green shirt, and some sort of long leather jerkin. Her boots were unusual, too, unlike anything he had ever seen.
“No one sent me,” she replied after a lengthy pause, her voice cracking.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “We’re to begin with lies, eh? Must I be clearer? If ye dinnae want to die, speak the truth. I willnae repeat meself again.”
Indeed, he did not know why he had repeated himself at all, for it was not in his nature to give second chances.
“I don’t know what you want me to say!” she protested, backing away from him.
The door to the small room was closed, but even if she wrenched it open and ran out into the hallway beyond, he knew she would not get far away before he caught up to her. He was as swift as he was powerful. Many had made the mistake of thinking he would be slow before.
He shoved the peculiar, shiny stone toward her. “What’s this, and who gave it to ye?”
“It’s a phone,” she replied, her voice softening. “This is me, like you said, and this is my sister. She dyes the ends of her hair because it makes her happy, like a million other people in the world. This is a photo of us.”
“A phone?” The word felt wrong on his tongue. Unnatural.
She nodded slowly. “Have you not seen a phone before?” Her tone became patronizing. “It’s alright, we’ll get you out of here, get you to a doctor, and see if they can give you something to make you feel better. Don’t you worry. I’m guessing you must’ve knocked your head on something. Am I right?”
Dougal resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her absurdity. “Dinnae speak to me like I’m daft in the head, lass. Dinnae think ye can hide yer lies behind strange words to fox me, like I’m the mad one. I demand answers, I demand the truth, and ye’ll start talkin’, or else ye willnae speak again!”
He reached for the dagger hidden beneath the blankets. As he brandished it, the blade glinted, reflecting the fear that shone in the woman’s eyes.
She put up her hands in a placating gesture.
“I think you’re taking the game too far,” she said.
“I’ve told you the truth, and if you don’t believe me, there’s not a whole lot I can do about that.
But if you’d just let me go back up the staircase to fetch my mentor, Hellen, I’m certain she can help you understand what’s happening here. ”
“She’s the blue-haired witch?” Dougal asked, searching the woman’s face for more answers than she was willing to give.
The woman shook her head. “No, the blue-haired woman is my sister. My mentor is upstairs, waiting for me, and if I don’t return soon, she’ll raise the alarm.”
For a moment, Dougal was convinced this was all his younger brother’s doing.
One of Noah’s latest tricks and jests played at his expense.
Admittedly, it was more elaborate and unsettling than any of Noah’s previous japes, but perhaps he had gotten bored with the usual buckets of water balanced on doors type of trick.
She looks honest.
Dougal was confused. He had witnessed enough false fools in his life to know the difference, and fear was one of the most difficult emotions to feign. Real fear was so potent that it could be felt by an onlooker, and he could feel hers, at that moment.
Then again, just because the fear was real did not mean her words were. Maybe Noah had not informed her that the trick would have consequences.
“If ye were to leave this room, me guards would kill ye before ye reached this ‘Hellen’ ye speak of, if they havenae already captured her,” he said evenly, convinced that he had made the right assumption about the situation.
Terror tightened her expression, and her body went rigid. A second later, she visibly tried to shake it off, standing straighter, tilting her chin up in defiance. He had no choice but to admire the strength in that.
Whoever this woman was, she was quite something.
“Guards?” she asked hesitantly.
“Och, ye want me to call them so soon?” He smiled coldly. “Very well.”
He went to the door and opened it, shouting for Mason. His voice echoed down the long hallway, and when he glanced back at the woman, he saw a faint shiver run through her. And he heard again that soft gasp slip from her lips, stoking a fire in him that needed immediate dousing.
It’s because I’ve been away for weeks, surrounded by coarse men, with nae a glimpse of a single lass.
The feeling would pass soon. He was certain of his own discipline if nothing else.
Mason Finch hurried into the room, his hand gripping the handle of his broadsword. “Is somethin’ the matter, M’Laird?”
He was Dougal’s most loyal guard, and though Dougal would never have admitted it out loud, Mason was the closest thing he had to a friend.
“Aye, I’d say so,” Dougal replied. “I want ye to tell me if there’s a strange lass roamin’ the corridors by the name of Hellen. Apparently, she’s here waitin’, when she shouldnae be.”
Mason straightened up, wearing a confused expression. “Well, M’Laird, there are more than a few Helens in the castle, but none of ‘em are roamin’ where they shouldnae be.”
“Any unfamiliar ones?”
Mason looked offended. “Nay, M’Laird. Nay unfamiliar soul will ever get past me. Even if they did, they wouldnae survive long.”
“M’Laird…” the woman whispered, her eyes widening.
Dougal cast her a pointed look before returning his attention to Mason. “So, if that’s the truth, might ye explain how this lass has come to be in me secret chambers?”
“Is she nae supposed to be here?” Mason paled a little.
“Nay, she isnae.”
Mason took a step toward the peculiar woman. “What are yer orders, M’Laird? Shall I take her below to the dungeons? Of course, I’ll see to it that the one responsible for lettin’ her in is found and punished.” He frowned. “Although, I was… uh… never mind.”
“Ye were?” Dougal prompted.
Mason chewed his lower lip for a moment, deep in thought.
“I was standin’ at the base of the stairs, M’Laird, and nay one has come in or out since ye came down to rest. And McCoy is at the top of the stairs and hasnae left his post.” He paused, eyeing the woman.
“So, how could she have gotten into yer chambers? Was she hidin’ here already? ”
“I shall find that out,” Dougal insisted. “As for ye, perhaps ye ought to patrol again, in case ye do find this lass called Hellen. Although, if ye ask me, I dinnae believe she exists. Or she does, but she goes by the name of Noah.”
Mason bowed his head. “Would ye like me to send yer braither down, M’Laird?”
“Nae yet,” Dougal replied. “I’ll call for ye if I need anythin’ else. For now, concentrate on this Hellen lass, just to be certain.”
“Aye, M’Laird.” Mason flashed one last puzzled look at the mysterious woman before leaving the room, his footsteps echoing back toward the staircase.
Dougal closed the door but did not immediately turn back to address the woman. Instead, he stared at the black iron studs that dotted the wood, his doubts beginning to creep in like an ambush in the dead of night.
He wasnae lyin’…
There were not many who could sneak past the loyal guard without being detected, and the passage from the main body of the castle to the underbelly only had one entry and one exit. Nor was there anywhere on that stretch of tunnel and staircase where someone could slip past the guards.
However, the woman had not been hiding in the room when Dougal had come down to rest. He always checked his sleeping quarters, wherever he was, for that very reason.
“Ye came by boat, did ye nae?” It was the only plausible explanation. “Through the smugglers’ route.”
There was one other entry to the castle’s underbelly, but he had given orders, many years ago, for the sea cave and its adjoining tunnel to be blocked off. Although, it had been a long time since he had checked it. Perhaps it was not as impassable as he had thought.
Meanwhile, the woman had turned as white as a sheet. “Look, man, this isn’t funny anymore,” she said, her voice trembling. “Was that your brother?”
“Nay, he’s me personal guard.”
She paled further if that was possible. “Where did you get the props and costumes? I mean, you’re convincing, and I’ll be sure to send whatever drama school you went to a letter of commendation when I get out of here, but the jig is up.
You can stop now. I realize you’ve gone all method, and a little bit psycho, with the performance, but this is 2024, not the Middle Ages.
Give it a rest and let me leave, or you can add wrongful imprisonment and harassment to that lengthening rap sheet of yours. ”
She stuck her hand out, wiggling her fingers for the “phone” he still had in his possession. The mysterious, shiny stone that held her image within it. A witch’s instrument, if ever he had seen one.
But the object was no longer the most troubling part of this encounter.
“What year did ye just say it was?”
The woman sighed. “Very good. Very funny. I’m having a whale of a time, playing these stupid games. It’s 2024.” She smiled, her eyes almost crazed. “No, wait, don’t tell me that it’s not 2024. It’s 1587, and Mary, Queen of Scots, has just been executed, sending you all into uproar!”
“Shameless witch,” Dougal hissed. “For that, ye’re about to ruin me monthly run of nae killin’ anyone. Nae on the castle grounds, anyway.”
The woman backed up, her legs knocking into the side of the bed.
It felled her like the most beautiful tree, the wood creaking as her backside hit the stuffed mattress.
He could only imagine how shapely it was, for there was one benefit to trews that he had not considered.
He could see almost as much as he desired, and she was not a thin wisp of a woman.
She had powerful thighs, just the way he liked them, and rounded hips that were surely the gateway to a perfect hourglass shape.
Through her dark green shirt, he could not make out the curve of her waist, but he could just glimpse the swell of her pert, ripe breasts.
A fine, strong, divine woman, more striking than any he had ever beheld.
It was a pity that he would have to deny the world, and himself, her stirring presence.
“I don’t like this anymore,” the woman said. “Please, just give me my phone and let me go.”
He ignored her, striding over to the bed and pulling her up by the arm. “Ye have a nasty habit of nae listenin’. I gave ye a fair warnin’, but ye wouldnae heed me.” He tutted. “Ye’ve only got yerself to blame for what happens next.”
“Excuse me?”
She tried to wrestle her arm free, but he had an iron grip, and he now knew what sort of fight to expect from her.
“Ye’re comin’ with me,” Dougal replied, yanking her toward the door.
She kicked him hard in the buttock. “Like hell I am!”
He twisted his head, looking down at his backside. “Did ye just… hoof me in the arse?”
She made to kick him again, aiming between his legs this time. But he was quicker, catching her by the ankle and swinging her upward until she dangled by his arm. He dropped her unceremoniously on the floor, though it was a short distance.
“Ye’re right,” he said, his appreciative gaze skimming the length and breadth of her, from head to toe, savoring the sight of everything in between as she lay there, splayed out on the flagstones.
She was panting hard, the rise and fall of her bosom adding fuel to the fire that kept sparking in his loins. “Ye cannae come with me dressed like that.”
The woman blushed furiously, crossing her arms over her chest as if that could erase the memory he had already created.
Smirking, he snatched a blanket from the pile by the door and threw it over her. “Now,” he commanded, no longer smiling, “follow me.”
He opened the door and took one step out, already aware that she was not going to be forthcoming. If given the choice, he imagined that she would just lie there on the ground until he went away. Not that he had any intention of doing so, of course.
Without turning back or setting foot back into the chamber, he added, “I could pick ye up and carry ye over me shoulder like a downed deer, but I’d rather ye use the legs that the heavens gave ye. I promise, ye willnae enjoy it if I have to carry ye to where we’re goin’.”
He heard the scuff of boots on the flagstones, and soft, angry mutters he did not quite understand. Although, as he grew accustomed to her way of speaking, he realized that he knew very well a few of the curses that popped out. Rather than stoke his anger, the sound of her fury amused him.
As he set off down the corridor, following the quiet drum of the waves pounding against the rock on which his castle sat, he heard her footsteps following a few paces behind. They were slow and sullen, but nevertheless obedient.
“Where are we going?” she asked a few moments later, hurrying to keep up with his long strides.
Dougal sniffed. “The only place ye belong in this castle.”
“Don’t say your bedroom,” she mumbled, surprising him with her boldness.
But he did not let any astonishment show on his face as he replied gruffly, “Nay, lass. It’s the dungeons for ye.”