Authors: Terisa Wilcox
Scowl
ing
he'd been handsome enough, but his smile
almost
knocked her flat. His
eyes raked over her seductive
ly
and although her brain told her
not
to be ridiculous, her body responded to
that
look. He raised a hand and beckoned to her. And, God help her, she wanted to
respond to
that
silent
summons.
No! This
was
not
even real. He
was
not
even real. She
was
hallucinat
ing
again. Kris closed her
eyes and shook her head. She opened her eyes again, certain it would
have
all disappeared. But it
hadn't
. Still he stood
there,
that
seductive
grin still in place. Squeez
ing
her eyes shut tight, she willed the image or mirage or whatever it
was
, to disappear. The
watch! With a gasp, she released it, and opened her eyes again,
not
know
ing
what to expect, but hop
ing
against hope. For what,
she
wasn't
exact
ly
sure. Would he still be
there, or would he
have
vanished? She
wasn't
certain which one she
really
wanted.
Iain melted away, her vision
cleared and she
was
again surrounded by the noises and sights of the fair. She let out her breath,
relieved, yet at the same time saddened
that
he
was
gone. It
was
bad enough to see him in
her dreams, but to see him when she
was
wide-awake?
That
was
go
ing
a bit far.
"Are ye unwell, lass?"
"Pardon?" Kris asked,
still try
ing
to clear
her head.
"Are ye ill? Ye look as
white as a sheet and ye
were
just star
ing
off into
the distance. Did ye ha'e a vision then?"
"A vision?" Kris looked
at her and furrowed her brow. How did this woman know?
Had
it been a vision? Did she even believe in
such th
ing
s? With a
shake of her head, she concentrated on answer
ing
the woman with as normal a voice as possible. "No, no vision. I'm
fine." She shook her head, tell
ing
herself too just breathe. "I should
have
eaten someth
ing
more
than a scone this morn
ing
,
that
's all." She
gave the woman what she hoped
was
a confident smile but realized it came out a bit on the wobb
ly
side.
The woman's brows rose a bit, but
she said
not
h
ing
more about it. Kris
turned her attention back to the watch. She hesitated a moment before pick
ing
it up again to examine
the intricate design. Look
ing
around she g
ing
er
ly
touched a f
ing
ertip to it. A slight
tremor passed over her, but she let out a sigh of relief when
not
h
ing
else happened. Shiver
ing
a bit at the warmth of
the timepiece, she ignored
that
as well and turned her attention to examin
ing
the watch.
The outside
had
the MacGregor crest
etched into it, a lion's head with the top of the head erased and replaced with
an antique crown. She turned it over, entwined flowers and vines covered the
back of the case.
"'Tis said the timepiece
has
a charm attached to it,
my lady."
"A charm? You mean a
spell?"
"Aye."
"What kind of a spell?"
"'Tis said to be a spell of
love, but 'tis unknown if 'tis true or false. 'Tis said it but waits for the
proper person to discover its secrets."
"How interest
ing
." She turned it
over in her hand again.
"Mayhap ye will be the one
to discover it, eh lass?" A slow smile crossed her face.
"You never know, although I
think any spell attached to it would be better suited to someone else."
Especial
ly
a spell of
love.
"Mayhap," she shrugged,
"and mayhap
not
."
The woman cocked her head and gazed hard at Kris.
Kris looked down at the watch
again to avoid
that
all too prob
ing
gaze
and cleared her throat.
"How much is it?"
The woman quoted her a price,
which Kris converted to US dollars. She
hadn't
planned to spend so much money on any s
ing
le
gift, but she
was
odd
ly
compelled to purc
has
e the watch.
"I'll take it." She
said, before she thought better of it. She paid for her purc
has
e, thanked the woman, and
headed back to the Castle. She would meet Hailey there.
* * *
Kris kicked off her shoes and
headed into the bathroom adjoin
ing
her bedroom. She gazed into the mirror above the pedestal sink and grimaced.
"You look
awful
."
Dark circles under her eyes
attested too to many late nights and ear
ly
morn
ing
s,
not
to mention the flight
across the Atlantic and the ensu
ing
jetlag. All these added together to make the freckles across the bridge of her
nose more pronounced against her pale skin. She stuck her tongue out at herself,
before turn
ing
away.
She stepped out of the bathroom
and sat down on the bed. Tugg
ing
her long hair free from its ponytail, she pulled her
not
epad out of the bedside table drawer to
check her
not
es from
the old tome she'd found in Mr. MacGregor's library.
The manuscript she'd selected
had
, of course, been about
the MacGregor clan and what they'd suffered dur
ing
the time Iain MacGregor
was
Laird.
History of The Clan Gregor: From Public Records and Private
Collections
had
been written in 1898 and seemed to cover the time period of interest to her.
She
hadn't
wanted to get caught star
ing
at Iain's portrait
again, but she did want to know more about him. Maybe if she discovered more
about him, he'd leave her alone. It
was
bad enough she
had
dreamed of the guy, but visions now?
She got hooked into the history
of the clan, tak
ing
not
es
like
crazy, compelled by
someth
ing
deep inside
to find out all she could about the clan and its disappear
ing
laird.
The MacGregor's
were
once one of the most
feared and fiercest clans of Rannoch. Outlawed and forbidden to use their name,
the clan moved into the Highlands. They harried the countryside for miles
around, driv
ing
cattle into Rannoch from all parts, us
ing
the mists of the hills as cover. Hence they are known a Clann a' Ched or The
Children of the Mist. Dur
ing
the proscription, they used the island Eilean nam Faoileag as one of their
headquarters.
Kris made a
not
e to go visit the island
later in the week. She'd seen it earlier from the other side of the Castle. It
was
said
that
at one time in the past
there
had
been a small
prison on the crannog belong
ing
to the Robertson's of Struan. She would capture Hailey and drag her off to the
island. She'd love to sketch it and maybe get a tour of the inside. She turned
the page in her
not
ebook.
Nevertheless, they
were
conspicuous for their
bra
very
,
not
on
ly
in local fights but also
in the battles to support the Stuart cause.
The MacGregor's first took
refuge in Rannoch in 1440, after Colin Campbell of Lachawe drove them out of
their ancestral lands. Colin
was
quick to grab the land when John MacGregor died. In 1603, James the sixth
decreed the name MacGregor to be illegal. Iain MacGregor
was
not
one to take this
lying
down. See
ing
no other alternative, he
realized he could do
not
h
ing
but take back his land
by the sword. Though he
was
Laird for on
ly
a mere eight months, his exploits of dar
ing
are typical of the MacGregor spirit. There is
not
much else know about Iain MacGregor. He is
thought to
have
been killed in battle or by an enemy of the clan. He disappeared sometime
around the summer of 1604.
Well,
that
matched what Mr. MacGregor
had
told her earlier. Kris
could
n't
help but
wonder what could
have
happened to Iain MacGregor. Did he ever find his lady? And if so, why
hadn't
he returned to the
Castle?
She took a deep breath and closed
her
not
epad. Enough
for tonight. She took off her glasses sett
ing
them on the table and pulled a paper bag onto her lap. Settl
ing
back against three
oversized, fluffy bed pillows propped behind her, she dug the watch out of the
bag.
She popped open the watch,
surprised by the beautiful tune it played. As she listened, she turned it over
and over in her hand, examin
ing
the intricate design. She
not
iced
one of the points of the Lions' crown protruded ever so slight
ly
above the others and
rubbed her thumb over it, her f
ing
ernail
catch
ing
a bit as she
ran it over the spot.
The back of the watch sprung
open, startl
ing
her. It
did
n't
look
like
it should even
have
an open
ing
there. No crease or
crack showed when it
was
shut, as if it
had
been made of one piece.
Curiosity replaced her surprise. Kris
squinted, tilt
ing
the
watch to an angle to see what looked
like
tiny nicks etched in the gold.
Scrambl
ing
for her glasses, she slanted the watch this
way and
that
to find
the proper angle to br
ing
the scratches into focus again. A magnify
ing
glass would make it easier. She wondered if there might be one in the library. She
did
n't
want to awaken
anyone, though, so she made do with her glasses. If she held them just right
instead of wear
ing
them, she could just make out what looked
like
words.
"Tre a' ceòban a tumall
agad bhitheas turus ma so sriut rán árd agad bruidhinn. Ma gràdhaich agad
amais, dràsd tumall agad bheir gleídh."
"Um, okay, let's figure out
what it means." She reached for her
not
epad
and pencil.
"Tre
means through." She went through each word
until she
had
them all
on paper, as well as their mean
ing
s.
Then she looked at what she transcribed.
"Through the mists of time,
you shall journey, if these words out loud you speak. If love you find, this
time, you will keep."
She shifted her eyes from what
she
had
written to the
watch and back again as a
not
her
of those strange, but thrill
ing
chills ran up her spine.
She shook off the feel
ing
and stared at the watch.
It
was
a beautiful
sentiment, if unrealistic. Sure, Kris
had
read her share of time travel romances and
had
seen all the movies about it too, but nobody could travel through time.
Besides, she
was
beginn
ing
to believe
love
was
as much a
fable as time travel. At least for her anyway.
She shrugged. The words went
along well with what the old woman
had
told her about the watch be
ing
enchanted. With a soft chuckle, she wondered just how many other such watches
that
old woman made and how
many people
really
fell
for it. It
was
a good
way to sell items, especial
ly
in Scotland, where the air itself felt charged with magic.
Kris laid the timepiece on the
table and snuggled down beneath the covers, the haunt
ingly
beautiful tune from the watch still play
ing
. As she drifted off to
sleep, the inscription floated through her head.
Chapter Three
The bright sun shin
ing
through the window woke
Kris. Her head pounded and her muscles ached with a weighted down feel
ing
. Groan
ing
, she rolled onto her
back. Her mouth tasted nasty, is if someth
ing
had
crawled inside and
died. She
hadn't
felt
this bad since she and Hailey
had
taken Kris' younger sister, Aleksa to a bar in Boston to celebrate Aleksa's
twenty-first birthday. They
had
all overindulged in Kris' favorite drink, Sex On The Beach.
She pulled herself up, her moves
slow. Even
that
small
movement caused her head to spin and her stomach to turn and roll. Her hand
went to her head in an effort to stop the whirl
ing
and buzz
ing
inside.
Had
she gotten too much sun
yesterday?
She started to shake her head
then stopped at the pain
that
shot through her temples. Sunstroke would
n't
make her limbs feel
like
lead, or her muscles ache as they did. She hoped she
wasn't
com
ing
down with a cold, or worse, the flu. Talk about a vacation killer.
She struggled into a more upright
position and tried to recall her dream. Her stomach proceeded to do hula-hoops
when she moved, but she took it easy and
was
able to sit up.
The more she struggled to
remember her dream, the more elusive it became. She
had
the sense
that
she'd floated on the air for a time, accompanied by an odd sense of inertia,
followed by a loud thunderstorm. She also
had
a vague recollection of a forest
almost
like
the one in her
previous dreams. On
ly
this time she'd been in the forest,
not
just stand
ing
at its
edge.
"Wow, talk about
crazy," she whispered, her throat dry and scratchy. She put her hand to
her head again, hop
ing
to stop its continued spinn
ing
.
Be
ing
in the wilds of
Scotland made her ready to believe anyth
ing
.
Th
ing
s wilder and
rooted deeper than anyth
ing
she'd experienced before. Th
ing
s
stronger and more vital and less tamed. It brought back all the fanciful imagin
ing
s she
had
as a child while listen
ing
to her grand
mother
's tales. Those
stories led to fantasies and daydreams of a handsome wild highlander carry
ing
her off and lov
ing
her. A man
like
Iain. "Yeah,
right,
like
that
'll ever happen."
She pushed her long bangs out of
her eyes. She needed coffee and two aspirin. She hoped the combination of the
two would help to clear her head. She glanced at her wristwatch, surprised to
see
that
it
was
near
ly
eleven o'clock. Damn! She'd
even slept as if she
had
a hangover.
Baffled, she swung her legs over
the side of the bed, go
ing
easy to keep the room from spinn
ing
any more. She knew she'd
not
had
more than one
glass of wine with dinner last even
ing
,
so it could
n't
be
that
.
"So, ye are final
ly
awake are ye?" Kris
jumped when the door to her room swung open to admit an elder
ly
woman. The woman laid the
bundle she carried on the table and poked at the fire
that
crackled in the huge fireplace.
Kris
was
positive she'd never seen the woman before;
she
was
pretty
certain she'd
have
recognized the woman's
authentic seventeenth century cloth
ing
and long gray
ing
hair.
Though it
was
tied in
a braid, it reached near
ly
to her waist. When she turned to face Kris, her dark brown eyes showed concern
as well as curiosity.
Mr. MacGregor did try to make e
very
th
ing
as genuine and authentic
to the time period as possible, but the woman
had
spoken in Gaelic.
"How are you feel
ing
this love
ly
morn
ing
, lassie?" Her voice
was
younger than her
appearance.
"Who are you?" Kris realized
that
was
rude, but could
n't
stop herself from blurt
ing
it out anyway.
"The more appropriate
question would be--who are ye?" A male voice inquired from the doorway.
Kris started to turn toward
that
all too familiar voice,
not
certain if she dared
to draw a breath. It could
not
be possible she thought and closed her eyes, trepidation mak
ing
her afraid to look.
Do
n't
be sil
ly
, she scolded,
and opened her eyes, on
ly
to feel them widen to impossible proportions as her mouth dropped open and the
blood drained from her face.
As her eyes met his, the shock
that
resonated through her
made her brain go numb. A queasy feel
ing
in her stomach, along with a t
ing
l
ing
sensation started at the
tips of f
ing
ers, and
spread through her body.
She looked into the face of none
other than Iain MacGregor.
Kris to the next logical th
ing
--she gave into the
blackness
that
called
at the edges of her mind and fainted—with a welcom
ing
sigh.
* * *
"By all the bloody saints,
how am I to question her if she up and swoons on me?" Iain looked to
Elsbeth.
"What did ye expect,
Laird?" Elsbeth ans
were
d,
his disgruntled expression mak
ing
her laugh. "Ye come barg
ing
in the room with
that
great boom
ing
voice of
yours and scare the poor wee lass out of her wits."
"I must question her."
Iain said matter-of-fact
ly
,
and walked over to the girl for a closer look.
Elsbeth's son, Raibert,
had
found her ear
ly
this morn
ing
wander
ing
about the woods behind
the Castle. Raibert
had
called to her, but she'd run
like
a frightened rabbit. When she tripped and knocked herself unconscious on a
rock, Raibert brought her to the keep.
Whoever she
was
, she
was
adorable. Her
heart-shaped face
had
high cheekbones and a strong chin
that
hinted towards stubbornness. The strange garment she wore on
ly
covered her to just below
the hips, offer
ing
him
just enough view of her legs to stir his interest.
Not
that
he'd be interested. Most women, he'd found,
were
not
h
ing
but trouble, and
that
was
someth
ing
he did
n't
need any
more of. He
had
that
and more in abundance
at the moment.
He tore his gaze away from the
tantaliz
ing
sight and
refocused on her face. It
was
a face
that
held both
delicacy and strength. Her bright auburn hair, though disheveled, gleamed with
s
had
ows of deep gold
and rich red. The colors contrasted sharp
ly
with the dark, sooty lashes fram
ing
her eyes. Iain
had
to
fight the sudden urge to reach out and touch her, just to see if her skin
was
as soft as it looked. Surprised
by the urge, he clasped his hands behind his back as he continued to gaze at
her.
"Laird." Elsbeth stood
beside him, hands on her hips.
"Oh, aye." He grimaced,
feel
ing
like
a lad with his hand
caught in the sweetmeats.
Elsbeth
was
like
a second
màthair
to
him, and she
had
the
uncanny knack to make him feel
like
a lad
not
even out of
breaches yet. His own
màthair
had
been unable to
feed him, so Elsbeth
had
become his, and later his sister's, wet-nurse. She'd then stayed at the keep as
a companion to his
màthair
.
Elsbeth cleared her throat again
and Iain stepped out of her way, but his gaze l
ing
ered
on the lass. Who
was
she anyway, and where
had
she come from. He could
n't
shake the feel
ing
that
he'd seen her before.
Raibert carried some kind of an
odd-look
ing
bag with
him when he brought the lass here. He'd said he'd found it
lying
beside her. Perhaps it
held someth
ing
that
would give Iain a clue
or two as to who her clan
was
.
He watched his Elsbeth bathed the
woman's face in cold water from the basin. Her long, dark lashes fluttered open
as she began to waken.
"Wine please, Laird." Elsbeth
held out her hand.
Iain grabbed the goblet on the
table, splashed some wine into it, and handed it to her. Then he moved to the
hearth, where he waited, a foot tapp
ing
with impatience, for Elsie to finish with the lass.
"There now lassie, sip it easy
like
." Elsbeth
helped her to sit up a little and held the goblet for her.
Kris accepted the drink with a
nod of appreciation. After several sips of the cool liquid, her head began to
clear a bit. The woman offered her an arm and helped her as she struggled to
sit in a more upright position.
Fear seized her again when she
glanced toward the fireplace and saw
him
still there, arms crossed in
front of him, legs spread, star
ing
at her. Much as he
had
in
that
portrait of
him. She'd hoped she'd dreamed it. How could this be happen
ing
? Maybe she
was
still dream
ing
. She handed the goblet
back to the woman with shak
ing
f
ing
ers and reached
down too surreptitious
ly
pinch herself. It hurt. This
wasn't
a dream! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!
"Whe-where am I?" Her
voice shook with alarm. At a look from Iain, she scrambled across the bed and
tucked her knees to her chin, unsure what to expect next. She also wanted to
put as much distance as possible between herself and
that
man
.
Had
she been kidnapped?
"Ye are in MacGregor Castle,
in Kinloch Rannoch."
He
stared at her as if she'd gone daft.
"Do ye no' remember?"
There went the kidnapp
ing
idea. Too many late-night
movies. It
had
been a
long shot anyway, for she recognized the room, most of it at least. And of
course, she remembered be
ing
in the keep in Kinloch Rannoch. She'd come to Scotland with her college class
for some research, recreation and some well-deserved relaxation.
What she did
n't
remember where these two
people and she especial
ly
did
n't
remember anyone
in the castle who could pass for Iain MacGregor's twin.
Hear
ing
his rich, deep voice and see
ing
him up close and
personal as it
were
,
he reminded her of a younger Sean Connery--on steroids. Kris shook her head to
try to clear the confusion from her befuddled brain, which on
ly
served to make her head
ache more.
"Do you remember anyth
ing
at all, lass?" Kris
swung her gaze back to the woman.
"Just vague bits. It all
kinda seems
like
a
dream, though." This ca
n't
be happen
ing
, she
screamed inside. "Who are you?" She whispered, half in anticipation,
half in to dread.
"I am Elsbeth, and
this," she gestured to the
very
large man behind her, "is Iain MacGregor, Laird of clan MacGregor."
Kris clenched her hands until her
nails dug into her palms. Her breath seemed to solidify in her throat. How
could this be? Iain MacGregor
had
been dead for over 400 years; it
wasn't
possible for him to be stand
ing
in front of her. Yet there he
was
.
She shook her head again and closed her eyes. She
was
still dream
ing
;
she
had
to be. Although
this
was
the most
realistic dream she'd ever
had
.
"And who are ye?" Iain
asked, his arms crossed in front of his massive chest mak
ing
his arm muscles bulge a
bit.