Timeless Mist (26 page)

Iain bit the inside of his cheek
to keep from grinn
ing
at her irritated stance. He shrugged a shoulder, "do whate'er it is ye
women always do, lass. Tend to those woman
ly
th
ing
s we men doonae
ha'e time for." He started to turn, but she stopped him again.

"Woman
ly
th
ing
s?"

"Aye," he said, turn
ing
back to meet her glare,
"sew, clean, instruct the servants, do some mend
ing
." He waved a hand toward the stairs,
"I dinnae ha'e any idea what it is ye women do when the men are nay
about."

Kris stared at him as if she
could
n't
quite
comprehend what he
said.

"Well," she final
ly
said, "I
have
a news flash for you,
buster. I do
n't
sew, I
also
haven't
the
foggiest idea how, or even what to clean in a castle, or what to direct the
servants in do
ing
because I've never
had
servants. They all seem to know how to do their jobs well enough without be
ing
told what to do anyway. And
furthermore, just in case you'd forgotten, there is the tiny detail
that
I'm
not
from this century. Therefore,
I
have
absolute
ly
no clue as to what women
'usual
ly
do'."

The look of surprise on Iain's
face at her outburst,
almost
made her laugh. "Ye dinnae know how to sew?" He managed.

"
Not
a stitch." She shook her head. She
could crotchet and knit a bit, but sew
ing
someth
ing
and mak
ing
it look anyth
ing
like
what it
was
supposed to
was
beyond
her. Her grand
mother
had
spent hours try
ing
to teach her, to no
avail. E
very
th
ing
she'd tried to put
together
had
somehow
come out lopsided, the tiny stitches uneven.

"But what of those socks ye
make? What of those other items ye showed me?"

"That's crocheting, not
sewing. Two totally different things and I've done enough of that for the time
being that I'm getting thoroughly bored with it."

Iain shook his head, "come
then. I shall see ye back to your chambers where ye may rest."

Kris pulled her hand out of his. "I'm
sick of my chamber and I'm tired of rest
ing
.
I've
had
more rest
over the last few weeks than I've
had
in the past six months. If I rest a
not
her
minute or
have
to
stare at the walls of
that
bedroom for one more second, I'll go stir crazy. You'll find me sitt
ing
in a corner babbl
ing
like
an idiot, complete
ly
witless, from lack of anyth
ing
to do. I'm bored. I need
to do someth
ing
that
will keep me
busy."

Iain sighed and ran his hand
through his hair. He
was
about to suggest he take her to his
màthair
,
when a commotion outside the still open door of the hall caused them both to
turn. Raibert came through the door, a boy of about ten or eleven years held
firm
ly
in his grasp. Kris
wasn't
sure if the kid
was
be
ing
dragged in or if he'd
come will
ingly
.

            She
heard a gasp from Iain and turned to look at him. He'd gone death
ly
white as he stared at
Raibert and the boy with him. If Kris
had
to hazard a guess, she'd say he looked staggered.

"Laird," Raibert began,
"this lad says he wishes to speak wi' ye. 'Tis a matter of some
urgency."

Iain stared at Raibert, then at
the lad. As Raibert led the boy forward, Iain felt his jaw slide southward. He
would
n't
be surprised
to hear it thump on his chest. He forced his mouth closed, but knew his eyes
betrayed his shock. If he did
n't
know any better, he would swear he stared at a ghostie or the
like
.

"Who are ye?" He
whispered, his voice bare
ly
audible. He cleared his throat and repeated the question louder.

The boy met his gaze. "My
name is Devyn MacGregor, laird."

Chaos erupted from those in the
hall, the ones still there as well as the many who
had
followed Raibert back in. Iain held up a
hand to silence them. When he got it, he asked, "and why
have
ye come here?"

"I ha'e come to find my
father, sir."

"And just who is your
father, laddie?"

The boy straightened to his full
height, looked Iain square in the eye and said, "Jamie MacGregor."

A collective gasp reverberated throughout
the hall and a low murmur
ing
began
that
grew louder
as the minutes passed. Iain turned to the people in the hall and then looked at
Kris as if he just remembered her presence.

"I will deal wi' this."
He said to the hall in general. "E'eryone back to your business. There's
still plenty of daylight left and more than enough work for the lot of
ye."

As e
very
one slow
ly
began to file out, giv
ing
the boy long looks, murmur
ing
,
and whisper
ing
among
themselves, Iain turned to Kris. "Come, Kristianna, ye must return to your
rooms. I will send Elsbeth to ye in a bit to see
that
ye ha'e someth
ing
to
occupy yourself."

Kris opened her mouth to protest,
but Iain stopped her.

"Please, Kristianna, just do
as I ask ye wi'out an argument. I will explain it to ye later, but for the now,
I need ye to trust me and return to your chamber."

Kris
was
so stunned by
that
statement, she allowed herself to be led
to the stairs. Iain dropped a quick kiss on her lips, "thank ye." He
said and sent her up.

Iain watched as Kristianna
climbed the stairs then turned and strode to the dais. The shock of what the
lad said resounded in his head until he thought it would deafen him. He
realized he needed a chair beneath his backside 'ere he fell over from the
stunn
ing
news.

He sat in his chair, took a long
swallow of ale, and waved Raibert and Devyn closer. "Now lad, please tell
me again what ye said so I know I dinnae hear ye amiss."

"My name is Devyn MacGregor.
I am the son of Jamie MacGregor, grandson of Alistair MacGregor, Laird of clan
MacGregor." He did
not
flinch or look away as Iain's gaze bore into him try
ing
to discern the truth of what he said.

Iain turned at the squeak of
surprise from behind him. He shifted in his seat and
not
iced his
màthair
stand
ing
at the foot
of the stairs. She
was
death
ly
white; her
hand covered her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers.

With a leap from his seat, Iain
hurried over to her. He reached her just before she fell to the floor in a
swoon. "Raibert," he threw over his shoulder as he lifted his
màthair
in his arms.

"Aye, laird."

"Br
ing
the lad and follow me. I would question him
more." Settl
ing
his
màthair
more firm
ly
in his arms, he started
up the stairs. He did
n't
need to look behind him to know
that
Raibert would obey him.

He reached his
màthair
's' rooms and lay her
gent
ly
on her chaise
by the fire. Grabb
ing
a damp cloth from the basin on the table, he bathed her face until she began to
waken.

Raibert stopped at the door. "Take
him to my outer chamber," Iain commanded.

"Nay, Iain," Sorcha
interrupted, a hand on Iain's arm. "I wish to be present when ye question
him. I must know what is go
ing
on."

"Are ye certain?"

Sorcha nodded and struggled to a
more upright position. "I will be fine. I need to be here."

Iain pursed his lips, but nodded
and rose from her side. "Br
ing
him in then, Raibert." He strode to the table and poured a goblet of wine,
which he handed to Sorcha. "Find Elsbeth," he commanded Raibert as he
poured himself a cup of ale, drank it quick
ly
before pour
ing
himself
a
not
her.

Raibert gave him a short bow, and
then left on the run to find his
màthair
.

Iain turned to Devyn,
noting
his feet shift
nervous
ly
.

"Sit ye down, Devyn
MacGregor. I would hear more of your tale."

Devyn sat on the edge of one of
the chairs closest to the door. He looked ready to bolt at any sudden movement
from either Iain or Sorcha.

Iain busied himself for a moment
see
ing
to his
màthair
's' comfort before he
turned his full attention back to Devyn.

"Would ye care for some ale,
lad?"

The boy hesitated before he
nodded, his knee bounc
ing
in nervousness.

Iain poured the watered wine into
a goblet for the boy then poured himself a
not
her
cup of ale.

"Now," Iain began,
resettl
ing
himself in
a chair fac
ing
Devyn. "Tell
me why ye believe Jamie MacGregor is your sire."

Devyn took a large swallow of
wine before he ans
were
d.
"'T
was
my
màthair
who told me
so."

"And who is your
màthair
, lad?"

"Emilee Grant."

"Where is your
màthair
now? Did she come
wi' ye?"

"Nay," he shook his
head sad
ly
, "my
màthair
died my laird. Near
to six years ago now."

Iain sighed and looked at his
màthair
. Her eyes shone with
tears at
that
news. He'd
known Emilee Grant as a child. She
was
older than he by a few years, but she'd always been kind to him. The Grants
were
long stand
ing
allies of the
MacGregors', though
not
so vocal as they
had
been in the past,
not
since the K
ing
's edict.
If what the lad said
was
true, and Jamie
was
his sire, there would be much to discuss.

But first, "how old are
ye?"

"I've just passed my
fourteenth summer, laird."

Iain nodded thoughtful
ly
. "And do ye ha'e any
proof
that
what ye say
is in truth? Nay
that
I disbelieve you, ye understand, but I must be careful just now."

Devyn nodded and dug in his shirt.
He pulled forth several documents and handed them to Iain.

Iain glanced at his
màthair
, rose from his chair,
and spread the documents on the table where the light
was
better.

"Did your
màthair
and our Jamie wed,
Devyn?" Sorcha asked.

Iain ignored their quiet
conversation and focused on the parchments in front of him. One
was
from the local cleric. It
stated
that
Jamie
MacGregor
had
handfasted Emilee Grant in the year of our Lord 1588. Its date
was
a few months before
Jamie
had
gone off to
fight a
not
her battle
against the Campbells'.

The next document
was
a record of birth. It
was
dated
almost
a year after the
first. The last
was
a
letter addressed to the MacGregor Laird.

Iain unrolled it and read it
careful
ly
—twice. He
sighed, ran his f
ing
ers
through his hair, and rolled the document back up. He handed it to his
màthair
along with the other
papers then resumed his seat.

"Twould seem, Devyn, my lad,
that
ye are who ye
claim ye are." Iain ran his hand through his hair again. "Ye know
about and understand all the troubles my clan
has
had
, dinnae ye?"

"Aye, my laird. But
that
doesnae change my mind.
'Tis a MacGregor I
was
born and a MacGregor I am proud to be. My
màthair
,
God bless her sweet soul,
was
proud to be wed to Jamie. She insisted and taught me
that
I should be proud of my sire as well as my
name and my clan. He
was
a good mon she said and he ne'er would ha'e left us if he'd
had
a choice or if he'd
known she
was
wi'
child."

"Jamie
was
nay just the eldest
MacGregor lad, he
was
the heir. He
was
next
in line to be laird after my sire. He'd been trained for it and he
was
ready for it."

Devyn went pale with the
implication. He nodded slow
ly
,
look
ing
too bemused to
speak.