Timeless Mist (10 page)

Iain reached out to grasp her arm
and swung her around to face him. His expression
was
a mask of stone. He moved closer until he left her no room to move at all. Trapped
between the bed and Iain's large form, she forced herself to meet his gaze head
on.

"Now," he nudged her
just the tiniest bit so she sat down hard on the bed. She
had
to strain her neck to
look up at him, "explain yourself and your purpose here." His angry
gaze swept over her, "and I shall know if ye lie to me." His voice,
though soft, held an ominous quality.

"I'm
not
sure where to begin." Her voice
was
no more than a weak,
tremulous whisper, though she tried hard to make it confident and sure. Her
stomach churned with anxiety and her pulse quickened erratical
ly
at the thread of warn
ing
she could
n't
miss in his deep tone.

"I ha'e a suggestion for
ye," Iain pulled a chair close to the bed. "Why dinnae ye start at
the beginn
ing
,"
he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his massive chest,
"how did ye come to be on my lands?"

"
That
's a
very
good question." She mumbled, catch
ing
the edge of bare
ly
controlled anger in his voice. It
was
the same edge
that
her
brother got when someth
ing
really
upset him and
it took
almost
all his
willpower to stop himself from break
ing
someth
ing
, or worse,
someone. Impaled by his steady gaze, she shook her head. "One I
really
wish I could answer,
but I ca
n't
. I do
n't
know how I got here."

"How could ye nay know how
ye got here?" His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Did ye walk? Did ye
ride? Did someone br
ing
ye here? Or did ye f
ly
in?" He arched a brow at her.

"I
really
do
n't
know," she repeated, with a helpless shrug. There
wasn't
much else she could say. It would all
come back to the fact
that
she just did
n't
know. She'd
been ask
ing
herself
the same question all day, when she'd final
ly
come to terms with the fact
that
she
had
indeed somehow
landed herself in seventeenth century Scotland. She wished she did know the
answer, because if she did, she could return home the same way she arrived.

"Ye mean to tell me ye
have
absolute
ly
no idea how ye came to be
here?" He snorted. Then changed tactics. He lo
were
d his voice, speak
ing
gent
ly
,
"ye can trust me, lass. Just tell me how ye got here, and whence ye came
from and I'll see ye are returned. No harm will come to ye, I promise."

"I know I sound
like
a broken record, but
all I can tell you is I do
n't
know."

"Ye arenae a torn
parchment." Iain wrinkled his brow at her,

"
That
's
not
what I meant." How could she explain? She shook her head. "I meant I
ca
n't
tell you how I
got here. You can question me about it a million different ways, and a dozen different
times. You can ask me until you're blue in the face, but all I can say is I do
n't
know. All I know is, I
went to sleep in one place and woke up in an entire
ly
different place." Now there
was
the understatement of
the century if ever she'd heard one, she thought, but did
n't
say it out loud.

"Scots
have
nay painted their faces
blue in at least four centuries," Iain snorted, "mayhap more. And how
can ye go to sleep in one place and wake up somewhere else? 'Tis nay possible,
lass." He arched a brow at her, "Unless ye are a witch."

"I'm
not
a witch. I just do
n't
have
any idea how I got here."

"Is there anyth
ing
ye do know?"

 Kris
wasn't
sure he
was
ready for the answer to
that
particular question, so she kept silent.

"Why dinnae we start with
your name." Iain leaned toward her, his eyes hard. "Do ye know
that
much at least? Your
full name, lass," he warned.

She paused. "Armstrong."
She gave him Hailey's last name before she could stop herself. There
was
no way she would tell
him she
was
a
Campbell, so she gave him the first name
that
came to mind. "My name is Kristianna Armstrong." Kris did
n't
really
want to lie; she hated liars and
lying
. It always led to
trouble and more lies. In this instance, however, she figured it just might
save her life. Hailey
was
English, after all. Kris just hoped
that
if Hailey's fami
ly
tree came back this far, they
were
not
very
well known in the
highlands of Scotland.

"Ye are a Sassenach?" His
face became a marble effigy of contempt.

"I'm American." Kris
shook her head. Well, so much for the hope he would
n't
know
that
name. Still, be
ing
English
had
to be
better than be
ing
a
Campbell at this particular moment.  

"American? Ye are from the
English Colonies?"

"They're
not
run by England anymore. But
they
were
once the
Colonies, yes."

Iain sighed and ran his hand over
his face. He would let
that
matter drop for the moment. Mayhap later he could figure out what she meant by
that
later. First he
had
more question to put to
her.

"Do ye know where your home
is?"

"Of course I do. I just told
you I'm American. I'm from America."

"But ye
have
no idea how ye got from
this America and came to be on my land?"

"Well, I know how I got here
from America, but I do
n't
know how I got to this particular place."

Iain sighed and leaned forward
once more, clear
ly
exasperated and striv
ing
for patience. "This is gett
ing
us nowhere. I dinnae seem to be ask
ing
the proper questions, so why dinnae ye just tell me what ye
do
know and
we'll take it from there."

"I'm
not
sure you'll believe me," Kris eyed him
wari
ly
;
not
at all sure she should
tell him where she
was
from. Or more to the point, when she
was
from.

"Lass, I promise ye, no harm
will come to ye, if ye will on
ly
tell me the truth. E'en if ye are from one of my enemies, I will see ye are
returned to your fami
ly
."

She stared at him a moment, judg
ing
the sincerity of
that
statement. What the
heck. What's the worst he could do?
Not
believe her? She would
n't
be any worse off than she
was
now. Unless he stuck her in his dungeon until he could gather enough wood for a
really
big bonfire
with her as the main course. She held up a hand to stop him before he could
speak.

"You already think I'm a
witch. If I tell you what you want to know, I do
n't
want to end up be
ing
slow roasted over a spit."

"I dinnae
really
believe ye are a
witch, lass." He said at last. "E
very
one
knows
that
witches are
ug
ly
wi' long, gray,
str
ing
y hair and bent
backs."

"Okay," Kris thought
she caught a twinkle in his eyes, but it
was
there and gone so fast, she could
n't
be sure. She took a deep breath and dove in with both feet. "I'm gonna
trust you. But I
have
your word, right?"

Iain nodded and gestured for her
to proceed.

"Here's what I know then. My
name is Kristianna Ca…Armstrong." She stumbled a bit, but recovered fast,
pray
ing
Iain
hadn't
not
iced. She would wait to
see how he took this bit of information before she confessed to be
ing
a Campbell. "I'm an
art-history major at Brown University in Boston where I'm work
ing
on my master's degree. I
just turned twenty-three years old, and," she paused for the big finale
and took a
not
her deep
breath, "I
was
born in Quincy, Massachusetts in 1985." She sat back a bit and folded her
arms over her chest. There, let him chew on
that
bit of information.

Iain sat back in his chair,
stunned disbelief etched on his face. Kris watched him careful
ly
, prepared to bolt if
necessary. She could
almost
see her words sink into his brain. He ran his hand through his hair, rubbed
that
same hand over his face,
then stroked his chin as he regarded her careful
ly
.

"I'm nay sure I
understand…" he began, but Kris cut him off.

"
Really
? What do
n't
you understand? I thought I
was
pretty
clear." Kris
shrugged with a bravado she did
not
feel, "but if I need to explain more, fine, how's this? When I went to bed
the other night, it
was
the year 2008, when I woke up two morn
ing
's
ago, it
was
the year
1604." She raised a s
ing
le
brow at him, "is
that
clear enough for you now?"

"Are ye try
ing
to tell me," Iain
started then stopped and stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. He stood and
strode to the fireplace, stared into the fire a moment, looked back at her,
repeated his actions twice more before he returned to his chair. "Are ye
tell
ing
me
that
ye think ye are from
the future?"

"Yes," Kris rolled her
eyes then nodded, "
that
's
exact
ly
what I'm tell
ing
you. And I do
n't
just think it, I know
it."

Iain snorted. "Wheesht, ye
hit your head, dinnae ye lass? 'Tis why ye spout such a tale." He looked
at her
like
she'd lost
any wits she might
have
had
, then grunted in
disbelief. "Ye should try a
not
her
one. This one isnae fit for e'en the worst minstrel."

 "It's
not
a tale. It's the
truth!" Most of it she amended silent
ly
,
and added a silent prayer of forgiveness for giv
ing
Hailey's last name as her own. She did
n't
want to see his reaction if he ever discovered she
was
really
a Campbell, no matter how many centuries removed she
was
from the present Campbell's, or past
Campbell's. Whichever the case
was
.

Just think
ing
about
that
gave her a headache. She shivered at the thought and went on the defensive. "And
do
n't
look at me
like
I'm crazy, either,
because I'm
not
."

Iain rose from the chair again to
glare down at her. "Ye
have
either lost your wits or ye are a spy after all. Mayhap a spy for the
Sassenachs."

"I'm
not
a spy and I
haven't
lost my mind either." Good Heaven's, she
was
in bigger trouble than she'd first realized if he believed her a spy. She froze
as fearful images of what they did to spies built in her mind. It would be way
better if he believed she'd lost her marbles. She should
have
known it, tell
ing
a lie always led to
bigger trouble.

"Your Sassenach name leads
me to believe ye a spy, but I know ye hit your head.
That
can lead one to many fanciful imagin
ing
s."

Kris shook her head, "I'm
not
a spy, and I'm
not
out of my mind either. I
know exact
ly
what I'm
talk
ing
about and
where I'm from. Scotland is supposed to be full of magic is
n't
it? You know, the fae,
Nessie and all
that
. Why
is it so hard to believe me? I do
n't
have
any proof of what
I say at the moment, but it's the truth." Ninety-nine percent of it
anyway. She looked up at him, but he
hadn't
budged.

He stood over her, arms crossed
in front of his chest, muscles bulg
ing
,
obvious
ly
try
ing
to intimidate her. Her
mood veered sharp
ly
from fear to anger. She
was
tired and her head still ached from the golf-ball sized k
not
on the back of it. To
say she
was
irritated
was
putt
ing
it mild
ly
. She
was
not
about to let this Scottish laird, who could
pass for a linebacker, continue to scare and terrorize her. She'd never let any
of her brothers bul
ly
her and she'd be damned if this guy would get away with it.