Timeless Mist (2 page)

"'Tis a fine render
ing
of the Laird, would
n't
you say?" Bryan
gestured to the paint
ing
.

"Oh, um, yes I suppose it
is." Kris could
n't
resist a glance over her shoulder. "Which Laird is it? I do
n't
see any plaque."

"'Tis Iain MacGregor, Laird
of
that
clan for some
months in 1604." His brogue brought to mind memories of listen
ing
to her adoptive
grandparents, Thelma and Robert MacGregor.

"Iain MacGregor, huh?" The
man who invaded her dreams since she'd agreed to come to Scotland
was
a real person. At least
now she
had
a name to
go with the face. She shivered. And
not
because of the sudden breeze
that
blew through the window. Dream
ing
about the man
was
bad
enough, know
ing
he
lived in reality,
had
been a real live flesh and blood man, sent t
ing
les
down her spine.

"He
was
Laird for on
ly
a few months? Did someth
ing
happen to him
that
he
was
on
ly
Laird for such a short
time?" How tragic if he died soon after becom
ing
Laird.

"'Tis unknown what became of
him. He vanished dur
ing
the ear
ly
summer of
1604. As you can imagine, rumors and tales abound about what
really
happened to
him."

"What do you mean he
vanished?"

"Just
that
, lass. He disappeared
one day never to be heard from again."

"Someth
ing
must
have
happened to him. I
assume there's a legend or two about it." Kris smiled know
ingly
.

"Aye," Mr. MacGregor
nodded. "Legend
has
it
that
he'd fallen in
love, found his mate. The lady of his heart, however,
was
said to be a Campbell."

"A mortal enemy of the
MacGregor's in the 17th century.
Weren't
they the ones who pushed the hardest for the MacGregor's proscription?"

"Aye,
that
they
were
. Ye know some of our
history then?"

"I do. My maternal grandparents
were
Scottish. MacGregor's
actual
ly
."

"Well, what a wonder,
that
. Anyway, ye are right,
the MacGregor's
had
many enemies dur
ing
that
time and before, but
the Campbell's
were
the fiercest of those enemies in the seventeenth century. Aye and for many centuries
before and after
that
as well, Miss
Campbell
." With emp
has
is
on her name, he gave her a know
ing
wink.

She laughed, "lucky for us
were
not
in the 17th century, anymore then,
hmm?" she whispered in Gaelic.

"I see you know a bit of our
language." Bryan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Ye are a wonder,
lass."

"As I said, my grandparents
were
Scottish. They insisted
my sibl
ing
s and I
learn the language. Although some of us picked it up better than others."

A chuckle escaped them both.

"Please, continue with your
tale. Tell me what happened?"

"'Aye, well, 'tis said Iain
sent his lady away for her own safety as well as the safety of his clan and
himself as well. He realized 't
was
better for all involved if they parted. They'd
had
enough troubles from the Campbell's and did
not
wish to borrow more. Iain grew heartsick after she left however, realiz
ing
he could
not
live without her. He
rode away from the keep one day with a vow
not
to return without her." His eyes met hers with a know
ing
look.

"And?" She asked after
a few moments of silence. She
was
torn between conflict
ing
emotions of anticipation and dread. Disconcerted, she crossed her arms in front
of her and looked away.

"'Tis said he
was
never seen or heard from
again."

Kris met his gaze for a moment
then lo
were
d it to
stare at the floor. "
Where is she
?" She could hear
that
voice from her dream,
hard and cold.  

Had
the Iain in her dreams been ask
ing
Kris about his lost love? Is
that
who he'd been try
ing
to find? But why her? What
was
she supposed to know about it? Granted, she
was
a Campbell, but how
was
she to know what
had
become of a woman who
had
disappeared more than four centuries ago? Heck, why did she
have
to be the one plagued
by dreams of the guy in the first place? Especial
ly
one who
was
interested
in a
not
her woman.

"Now you know the legend of
Iain MacGregor," Bryan said, still look
ing
at her as if he knew someth
ing
she did
n't
.

Kris shivered again and looked
uneasi
ly
over her
shoulder once more. "
That
's
a
very
interest
ing
story."

"Aye, is
n't
it though?" He gave
her a
not
her long look,
"Scotland is full of such tales and legends. 'Tis a
very
superstitious, magical
land." He stared at her some more before he reached for her hand,
"shall we make our way to the great hall now? I'm sure my cook
has
planned a pleasant
repast for ye and your friends."

Kris snapped back to the present
yet again, and nodded, though she could
n't
help but wonder what it all meant.

"I daresay the others will
be gett
ing
impatient
wait
ing
for their
dinner, and I would
n't
wish them to raid the kitchens," he added with a mischievous grin.

Kris forced herself to
concentrate on what the older man
was
say
ing
. "It's a
terrible crime to raid someone else's kitchen." Kris could
n't
help but smile as she
concentrated on what Mr. MacGregor
was
say
ing
.
Not
wish
ing
to appear rude, she
ruthless
ly
shoved
aside any thoughts of Iain MacGregor and her weird dreams of him and resisted
the urge to look behind her at
that
paint
ing
once more.

"Indeed it is, Miss. Especial
ly
my kitchens. If you
had
to listen to the cook
the last time it happened, you would think it a crime worthy of death
indeed."

Kris laughed. She could
understand the cooks' irritation on the matter. When she got in the cook
ing
mood, e
very
one cleared out. Those
who did
n't
might find themselves
duck
ing
random
utensils thrown at their heads.

Kris took her seat next to Hailey
at the enormous table in the Greathall.

"Hey Kris. You get lost
too?" Hailey's eyes twinkled with mischief.

"This place is so big, it's
a wonder I did
n't
get
lost just stepp
ing
out
of my room."

Best friends since ear
ly
high school, Kris
had
been thrilled when
they'd both ended up at the same college. She laughed with her friend and
turned her attention to the Greathall, gett
ing
her first good look at it since they arrived. She could understand why they
called it a Greathall. The room
was
an enormous. She
was
almost
certain her grand
mother'
s entire house,
though large, would fit into this one room.

Dinner
was
brought out and placed on the tables by
servants dressed in period costumes. Bryan MacGregor stood to get e
very
one's attention. "I'd
like
to welcome you
all to MacGregor Castle. I hope you enjoy your stay with us. If I, or any of my
staff, can be of assistance to you, please let us know. I'll be interested to
see some of your creations when they're finished. I would
n't
be averse to
have
my own portrait done by
one of you either." He chuckled and the rest of the hall shared in his
laughter.

His eyes locked on to Kris, and
he winked before he turned back to the rest of his guests. "Please enjoy
the feast and the activities we
have
planned for your stay with us in Scotland."

Chapter Two

Kris awoke at dawn to the sound
of bagpipes and drums waft
ing
through her open window. She
hadn't
dreamt of Iain last night, which both relieved and disappointed her. On the one
hand, she
was
tired of
him ask
ing
her about a
not
her woman, especial
ly
if
that
other woman
was
his lost love. She
was
also gett
ing
really
tired of fall
ing
out of bed. On the other hand, in some
weird way, she sort of missed his perpetual scowl. No one
had
a right to look
that
sexy with such a grim
expression plastered on his face.

 "Did the man never
smile?" She could
n't
help but wonder out loud.

She shook her head at her
foolishness. True, he
was
handsome, and sexy, in a bad boy kind of way, but come on, it
was
more than a little
twisted to be carry
ing
on a romance on
ly
in
her dreams. Although one could
n't
really
consider it a
romance when all the man did
was
ask her about a
not
her
woman.

Besides, a guy
like
that
would never take an interest in someone
like
her.
That
kind went for the tall,
leggy blonds,
like
Hailey. They did
not
general
ly
find women
like
Kris, who bare
ly
topped five feet, three
inches, and then on
ly
when she stood real straight,
not
to mention the freckles and red hair, attractive. Maybe friends, but
not
, in her experience, as a
love interest.

She'd carried on fantasy romances
with guys
like
him as
a young teenager, but
that
was
out of loneliness.
She
had
never been
very
popular in school, hav
ing
few she could call
friend.

She supposed it came from hav
ing
a do
n't
care
màthair
and an abusive
father. Of course she'd
had
her sibl
ing
s, but
they'd never been what one would call close until they'd all gone to live with
their grandparents when Kris
was
almost
fourteen.
That
was
when she'd met Hailey. The two
had
bonded, becom
ing
instant friends. Kris
insisted Hailey
had
saved her life, and her sanity.

She threw off thoughts of her
past, stretched, and yawned. She
was
in Scotland! She
had
no time for depress
ing
memories. After months of hard work, late nights and ear
ly
morn
ing
s
and just enough sleep in between to survive on, she'd managed to juggle her
classes and her homework enough to work a few extra hours at her job and save
enough money to come to Scotland.

Wrapp
ing
her arms around herself in excitement, she
thought over what
was
to come in the next few months. She would stay in Scotland for a month to study
its rich art-history and culture, sketch a few castles and the landscape, and
maybe, if she
was
lucky, a handsome Highlander or two, then on to England and last finish her
studies in Ireland before head
ing
home.

With these thoughts rac
ing
through her head, and
the haunt
ing
call of
the pipes below, who could lie in bed daydream
ing
?
Unable to contain herself, she threw back the covers, jumped from the bed and
ran to the window.

A short distance from the castle
she could see the town and a parade of men as they marched through the streets.
Dressed in traditional Highland kilts, sporran's and tartans, each man also
carried a battle ax as they progressed through the Glen. At the far end of the
town, Kris could make out what looked
like
several dozen stages or platforms.

She clapped her hands
like
an overexcited child on
Christmas morn
ing
, and
turned from the window to ponder what to wear to her first festival of Highland
games. A knock at the door stopped her midway to the closet next to the bath.

"Come in," she called,
as she grabbed her robe from the end of the bed, pulled it on, and tied it shut
just as the door opened. She looked up to see a love
ly
girl of about sixteen peek her head around
the heavy oak door.

"Mornin', Miss."

"Good morn
ing
to you."

"I do
n't
wish to be intrudin', but Granda thought
you might
like
to
dress for the games. He sent me with these." She held out two of the
loveliest plaids Kris
had
ever seen. Kris recognized each design right away. One
was
a Campbell plaid, the other a MacGregor
pattern. "He
wasn't
sure which you'd be preferrin' to wear. I'm to help you get dressed, if you wish."

"Oh my." Kris did
n't
hide her surprise,
"I would be glad for any help you can give me." She gestured to the
plaids. "I think I'd make more of a tangle of those than any kind of
proper dress." She winked at the girl. "What's your name?"

"Maggie, Miss."

"I'm
very
pleased to meet you, Maggie. I'm
Kris." She said and extended her hand,

"I can help you do your hair
in the traditional way as well, Kris." Maggie smiled shy
ly
.

"
That
would be wonderful. Now I just
have
to decide if I want to
be a Campbell or a MacGregor. It's for certain ca
n't
be both, even if I technical
ly
am."

Maggie's brows drew together in
confusion.

"You see, Maggie, my father
is a Campbell, but my
màthair
was
adopted by
MacGregor's, so I'm both."

"Well, Miss,
that
's a fine dilemma, now
is
n't
it?"

They both laughed. "It still
leaves me with decid
ing
which type plaid to wear." Kris tapped her chin. "Maggie, do you
think you go find somebody to br
ing
me a light breakfast while I hop in the shower? I'll
have
to think on whom I want to be today and a
shower and some coffee will help clear my baffled brain."

Maggie giggled and nodded as she
left the plaids on the bed and scurried out of the room.

Half an hour later, as Kris
stepped out of the shower, there
was
a quick wrap on the door.

"Maggie?"

"Nope, try again."
Hailey called out.

Kris came out of the bathroom,
her hair wrapped tight in a towel.

"Good morn
ing
." She smiled
brilliant
ly
at her
friend. "You're up bright and ear
ly
."

"I
had
a feel
ing
you might be in a bit of a predicament right about now," Hailey said with
a gesture to the plaids on the bed. "
Not
sure who to be today?"

"You know me way too well,
Hailey." Kris laughed.

"Yes," Hailey agreed
with an over exaggerated look of smugness, "I do you know you
very
well." She
grinned, "I also ran into Maggie in the Greathall. She said you
were
shower
ing
and then she
was
to help you dress."

With a laugh at Kris' disgruntled
look, she held out a cup of coffee and a cinnamon scone. "Anyway, since
you are legal
ly
Miss
Campbell, I think you should go with the Campbell colors today. You can wear
the MacGregor plaid tomorrow if you want."

"Good plan," Kris
nodded in agreement. "How about you? What are you wear
ing
today? Are you go
ing
to be conspicuous and
wear English clothes, or are you go
ing
to try to blend in with the rest of us Highlanders?" She chuckled when
Hailey stuck her tongue out at her.

"I'll wear the MacGregor
plaid today." She winked at Kris. "Maybe I'll get to meet
that
handsome Highlander
you've been moon
ing
about for years."

"Huh!" Kris snorted,
"no way.
Not
if I
see him first you wo
n't
,"
she assured her friend. "Come on, help me get into this th
ing
so we can get to town. I
do
n't
want to miss a s
ing
le th
ing
."

*          *          *

Kris stopped to examine a bolt of
velvet at one of the stalls set up in the village of Kinloch Rannoch. She and
Hailey
had
gotten
separated
almost
an
hour ago when Hailey
had
gone to look at some gifts for her parents and Kris
had
gone to listen to the pipers. Kris knew if
she waited around these stalls with all the fabrics displayed, Hailey would
wander by soon.

Fabric
was
one th
ing
Hailey could never resist no matter how hard she tried. She
was
drawn to it. If there
was
fabric anywhere within a
twenty-five mile radius of Hailey, she knew it. It
was
almost
as if she smelled it or someth
ing
.

Kris shook her head. Hailey would
make a great fashion designer. Always coordinated and dressed comfortab
ly
but stylish
ly
, Hailey
was
the consummate fashion
plate. Whereas Kris would grab whatever
was
most handy from her dresser drawers,
that
be
ing
jeans and a
comfortable t-shirt or sweatshirt, Hailey took her time with her wardrobe. Maybe
that
was
one of the reasons men
flocked to Hailey and tended to either
not
see Kris or, if they did
not
ice
her, they paid no attention to her.

She ignored the tug of melancho
ly
that
thought brought with it and turned her
attention back to the stalls. She slowed near one of the jewelry stalls to scan
the crowd again when a silver brooch caught her attention. Kris smiled at the
old woman behind the stall and continued to browse.

"Might I help ye find someth
ing
?" The woman asked,
return
ing
her smile.

"No, thank you." Kris
shook her head. "I'm just look
ing
.
You
have
some
very
beautiful pieces."

"Thank ye, lady."

"How much is
that
brooch?" Kris
gestured to an exquisite piece displayed prominent
ly
in front of some of the other brooches.

"Ahh, 'tis a verra love
ly
piece ye
have
chosen, lass," the
old woman grinned with approval, giv
ing
Kris a fine view of her toothless mouth. "Ye
have
a good eye."

"I think my sister might
like
it."

"Ye must love your fami
ly
a verra much to consider
them whilst ye are on holiday. Mayhaps someth
ing
for yer husband, as well?"

"I'm
not
married," she said, refus
ing
to let her thoughts l
ing
er on
that
not
ion.

"Ahh, I see." The woman
eyed her with speculation for a moment, as if search
ing
for someth
ing
.
The intensity of her stare made Kris want to shift her feet. The woman studied
her for a moment more, then "mayhaps ye would
like
this for yer sister, instead." She
stooped down so far Kris thought she might topple over.

Kris made a grab to catch her,
but the bent form straightened again. In her gnarled hand, she clutched an
exquisite antique gold watch on a thin chain.

"How beautiful," Kris
exclaimed. "This might be
nice
for my brother. It looks
very
old though."

"Aye, 'tis indeed verra old,
m'lady. 'Tis said to ha'e belonged to the Laird himself, Iain MacGregor." The
woman held the watch out to her.

Kris reached for it, but as she
touched it, expectancy and hope rushed through her. The hair at the nape of her
neck stood up without permission and goose bumps broke out over her arms.
That
same anticipation she'd
had
while look
ing
at Iain MacGregor's
portrait yesterday
was
hed
over her.

Putt
ing
a hand on the stall to steady herself as
the blackness closed in around her, she blinked several times, but it did
n't
help the dizziness or
the intense feel
ing
of
déjà vu. She held her breath and looked around, wait
ing
, hop
ing
,
anticipat
ing
. What she
had
no idea, but
someth
ing
was
about to happen. She just
knew it.

She looked up careful
ly
, afraid yet excited about
what she would see. The old woman, the stall, even the town, faded as Kris
stared at Iain MacGregor. On
ly
this Iain
was
no paint
ing
and he looked to real to
be a dream. He looked around, an eyebrow raised, his customary scowl affixed
firm
ly
on his chiseled
face. Then he caught sight of her and for the first time since she'd begun
dream
ing
of him, he
smiled. Her knees buckled and she
almost
went down.