Timeless Mist (6 page)

Iain wanted to protest further,
but could
n't
.

He'd been right
not
to trust the Earl of
Argyle. Archibald Campbell
had
indeed held to his oath to see his father delivered to England, along with the
eleven other clansmen who'd gone with him to represent the MacGregors. Once
across the border, however, Argyle
had
arrested Alistair and brought him back to Edinburgh where they held a sham of a
trial before hang
ing
his father and the other men with him.

"Iain, are ye listen
ing
to me?"

Iain looked up to find Sorcha
watch
ing
him, a
tight-lipped look on her face. He knew
that
look well, for
hadn't
he grown up with it? She wore it whenever someth
ing
displeased her.

"Aye,
màthair
." He pulled his
drift
ing
thoughts back
to the conversation.

"Ye should attack the
Campbell's; beat them at their own game. Ride to their keep and take your
sister back by force if necessary."

A sudden thought occurred to Iain
that had never occurred to him before. "Why is it ye are so certain 'twas
the Campbell's that took Caitlyn and no' just her running off again?"

Sorcha turned her face away.

"Mathair?"

With a sigh, Sorcha looked at him
again, but would not meet his eyes. "'Tis a long tale, Iain, but suffice
it to say that a woman scorned has nothing on a Campbell laird scorned."

"Do ye mean…"

"I dinnae wish to discuss it
any further than that, Iain." Her tone clipped, Sorcha rose from her chair
and stood by the fire, "I just would no' put it past Archibald Campbell to
take your sister as some kind of twisted revenge. Attacking him and taking your
sister back is nay more than he deserves."

Iain gave up, realizing he would
get no more of the tale from her. "Ye know 'tis nay
that
simple." He
chided. "'Twould be suicide to do the
like
,
and well ye know
that
."
He growled. "We would need to lay siege to their keep and we dinnae ha'e
the manpower to do
that
.
And, might I remind ye
that
we are considered outlaws? I will nay risk the lives of my men on a fool's
errand. I may nay
have
been the best choice for laird, but wi' my brothers gone and da…" He
trailed off at the pained expression on his
màthair
's
face. "I'm sorry."

"'Tis nay your fault,
Iain." She waved his apology aside. "I
had
a good life with your father, and am
not
sorry about one moment of it. I would never
have
wished it to end the way it did, but 't
was
a full, rich life I
had
with him. And longer than either of us hoped for. He
was
three score and ten and we'd been together
for more than half of those years. He would be disappointed in me if I mourned
him longer than necessary after such a bless
ing
of life together." She narrowed her eyes at him, "and I know what you
are think
ing
. As far
as ye nay be
ing
the
best choice for laird, you are wrong there too."

"I dinnae think I
was
ful
ly
prepared for this."
He shook his head,
not
believ
ing
he
was
discuss
ing
this with her.

"Ye trained alongside your
brothers."

"Aye, but I dinnae feel it
was
enough." He
wasn't
sure he could make
her understand he did
n't
think he
was
ready for
the responsibility thrust on him. He
was
the youngest son and
had
never been pushed to learn all the th
ing
s
necessary to be laird. There
were
two others
before him, after all. He shrugged those thoughts aside. He
would do what he must and hope it would be for the best. He
wasn't
incompetent nor was
he stupid. He could and he would learn whatever he needed to in order to
protect his family, his clan and his honor.

"If I find evidence
that
the Campbell's
were
involved wi' Cait
ly
n's disappearance, I will
do what must be done." He changed the subject,
not
wish
ing
to discuss the matter further. "There isnae any more I can do until
then." He rose from his chair. "I still find it odd
that
we ha'e heard
not
h
ing
and the Campbell's
ha'e
n' contacted me. They should be shout
ing
the news loud and long
from the highest mountains in Scotland, yet I ha'e heard naught, nay, e'en a
whispered suspicion or rumor. 'Tis puzzl
ing
and thus stays my hand from any vengeance. Ye know I can do nay more except
wait and continue to search for her. We
were
severe
ly
depleted of
fight
ing
men due to
wounds and death dur
ing
the last few months. We may ha'e on
ly
lost two at Glenfruin, but the recent losses and penalty we pay for
that
battle
has
more than made up for
it. I cannae risk any more lives wi'
not
h
ing
but suspicion to go
on."

Sorcha held up a hand. "I
know, Iain. I speak from a
màthair
's
love, but I understand all you say and why ye can do
not
h
ing
yet."

"Good," he turned at
the door. "I will see ye at dinner."

"Ye know I will nay dine in
the hall until my daughter is returned to me." Sorcha shook her head. "'Tis
too sad for me yet."

"Verra well." Iain
sighed but nodded. His
màthair
could be
quite
stubborn when she wanted to. He turned and strode out the door. Why
had
he ever thought his
màthair
would mellow with
age? Instead, she
had
on
ly
gotten worse.
Not
that
he could blame her. The Greathall, which
had
always been filled with
laughter, music, joyful conversation and teas
ing
,
had
become maudlin. E
very
one
was
quiet and any
conversation took place in near whispers.

Iain put a hand to his ach
ing
head. Sometimes he
wished he could leave, go somewhere far away. He'd always planned to travel. Raibert
would prove an able laird to the few clan members left. Moreover, Iain could be
certain his
màthair
would be well looked after. Perhaps when they found Cait
ly
n, he could think about it more. Return
either to London or mayhap the new land across the ocean.

He shook his head at the
foolishness of his thoughts. He'd never been one to shirk his responsibilities
and he would
n't
start
now. He headed straight out the wide double doors and to the train
ing
field. He would vent his
frustrations in a little combat.

"Weel?" Elsbeth emerged
from the bedchamber as soon as Iain left. "Is she the one we hoped
for?"

"I do
not
know yet. Perhaps after
I speak to her I will know better."

Elsbeth nodded but kept her
thoughts to herself and said no more.

Chapter Five

Kristianna paced the large room,
her agitation grow
ing
with each step. Though the evidence before her
was
overwhelm
ing
, she
was
unwill
ing
to accept it. Her
thoughts raced with the numerous possibilities. Maybe she'd sleepwalked, hit
her head and this
was
the result of a dream induced by a coma. Maybe she
was
delirious from a lack of chocolate. She
could be hallucinat
ing
or in the middle of a nightmare she could
n't
seem to wake up from due to a concussion or maybe a high fever.

She closed her eyes and willed
her pound
ing
heart to
calm down and quit beat
ing
so fast. This
was
just
a dream. It
had
to be.
It
was
not
happen
ing
. Nobody could travel
through time, could they?

Maybe she
was
in the midst of an emotional breakdown. Perhaps
she
was
go
ing
through some kind of
stress related mental collapse. Who could blame her after what she'd
had
to do just to get to
Scotland. All the chaos and strain, along with the junk food, or lack thereof,
not
to mention a serious
lack of sleep,
had
finally
gotten to her.

Aleksa and Hailey both
had
warned her
that
if she did
n't
slow down and start tak
ing
better care of herself
she would
have
a
nervous breakdown. So now, here it
was
,
happen
ing
at last,
just as they'd predicted. She closed her eyes again and took a deep, calming
breath.

When I open my eyes, e
very
th
ing
will be back the way
it's supposed to be. The room will be the same as when I went to bed last
night. If I wanted to, I could leave the castle, hop on a plane, and be back in
the states by tomorrow.

With deliberate slowness, she
opened one eye a tiny bit, then a little further when she could
n't
quite
see enough of the room to make any
distinction.

With a long-suffer
ing
sigh, she opened both
eyes and blew her bangs out of her eyes. The room looked the same.
Not
a th
ing
had
changed from five minutes ago.

Kris paced the room again. Panic
like
she'd never known
before welled in her throat. She tried to breathe, but it came out in quick,
shallow gasps as one small breath slammed into the next. She could
n't
catch her breath. Her
heart beat so fast, she
was
certain it would pound from her chest at any moment.

Breathe! Oh my God! I'm gonna
die! In this strange place, alone, away from my fami
ly
, my friends, my life, I'm
gonna die!

No! Her heart screamed. She
had
to calm down. She could
handle this. She cupped both hands over her nose and mouth in lieu of a paper
bag, and forced herself to take long, slow, deliberate breaths.

In through the nose, one, two,
three, out through the mouth, one, two, three. After several minutes of this,
she got her breath
ing
back under semi-control. There
was
a reasonable explanation for this, there
had
to be. People
were
not
just whisked through
time and thrown into a
not
her
century. It just did
n't
happen.
Not
in real
life, at any rate. In movies, or books,
quite
often, but never in reality.

Kris sat down at the small table
and drummed her f
ing
ers,
whirl
ing
the
possibilities around. She
had
to remain calm, put her emotions in her back pocket because they were useless
to her right now. She must force herself to use her logic to think this through
or she'd never find her way out of this mess. She discarded anyth
ing
that
suggested this
was
a dream. She'd never
had
a dream be so sensory
vivid before. If you did
n't
like
what
was
happen
ing
in a dream, just wait
and it would change to some other demented th
ing
that
you knew could
not
possibly happen.

Her mind settled on the last
possible option, this
had
to be some elaborate scheme cooked up by Mr. MacGregor. It
was
the on
ly
legitimate explanation
she could latch onto. Without a doubt, he'd done a good job of find
ing
actors. The guy play
ing
Iain sure looked an
awful
lot
like
the real th
ing
. She studious
ly
ignored the small voice
that
tried to convince her
otherwise.

Well, she decided with a huff,
she did
not
find this
charade amus
ing
in the
least. She'd
have
someth
ing
to say to
that
old man when she found
him. Then she'd be on the next plane home and the hell with the rest of her
class trip. She
was
a
serious student. She
had
no time for foolish games played on unsuspect
ing
visitors.

First th
ing
s first, however. She would need to get
dressed before she could find the old goat. She needed to end this now. She
had
a life to get on with. She
again ignored the tiny voice
that
told her she deluded herself.

She started to rise from the
table when she
not
iced
a chest below the window where the dresser
had
been yesterday. All of her clothes
were
in
that
bureau. She
glanced about the room but saw no sign of it. She folded her arms across her
chest in a stance of protection and sat back down, hard.

Her gaze wandered about the room,
just now
not
ic
ing
the glar
ing
differences.
Not
on
ly
was
the chest of drawers miss
ing
, but also, where there
had
been a love
ly
thick, wall-to-wall
carpet on the floor, now rugs lay strewn about, but they did
not
look modern at all, they
looked hand-made, and there
was
no longer a
not
her door
in the room
that
led
to the adjoin
ing
bath.

Or
was
there?

Kris stood and hurried over to
the tapestry
that
covered the spot where the door
had
been. She pulled it aside and stared. No door,
not
h
ing
but an empty wall.
Had
she been moved dur
ing
the night?
Had
she been drugged? She
shook her head. She did
n't
believe Mr. MacGregor would go to such lengths as
that
. He
wasn't
a cruel man, of
that
she
was
sure.

Kris moved to the bed and sat
down,
noting
the lumpy
mattress. Definite
ly
not
the comfortable Serta
bed she'd gone to sleep on last night. Her heart began to hammer in her chest for
a second time. Her stomach clenched into a tight k
not
as panic began to rise once more.

With firm control, she clamped
down with decisive resolve on her emotions. They would
not
help her get home. She needed to stay calm
and composed. Someth
ing
was
up and she would
damn well find out what before a
not
her
hour passed.

She stood and fisted her hands on
her hips. Now, if she could just find her clothes. She glanced down at her bare
legs, contemplat
ing
just head
ing
out
anyway. No, she would need to find some clothes. She could
n't
very
well walk around all day in her Patriots
nightshirt. It bare
ly
covered her rear end,
not
to mention it
had
seen
cleaner days. If she
hadn't
known better, she would swear she'd rolled around in the mud with it on. She
must
have
been in
shock to
have
slept in
this th
ing
in the
condition it
was
in.

She grunted in disgust, more than
ready for this charade to be over with. It
was
time to take back control of her life, start
ing
with find
ing
her
clothes.

She decided they could be in one
of two places, either in the chest underneath the window or in the wardrobe
closet she'd spotted. She'd start with the chest. It
was
as good a place as any.

Strid
ing
over to it, her purpose set, she threw open
the lid and tore into it with vigor. It
was
quite
a large chest,
and deep as well, reach
ing
almost
to her
mid-section.
Not
that
she could be considered
tall by any standards, bare
ly
reach
ing
5'3" on
her best day and
that
on
ly
if she stood
very
straight.

She gasped when she saw what
was
in the trunk. At first,
she tried to be gentle with what appeared to be
very
old, but
very
well
preserved linens and blankets. By the time she got halfway through the
articles, however, she did
n't
care about damag
ing
them. She grabbed fistfuls of cloth and tossed them with reckless abandon out
of the chest, toss
ing
them behind her onto the floor in desperation.

*          *          *

Iain heard noises from the room
he'd put Kristianna in. What
was
she do
ing
in there? He
knocked twice before he opened it a crack. A glance around the room revealed a
mess. Cloth
ing
, wool
blankets and linens as well as other items littered the floor, the table, and
the bed. There
was
no
sign of Kristianna, however.

Iain stepped into the room and
heard a few mumbled, incoherent words. He thought he caught a curse or two
thrown in there, but could
n't
be sure. Where
was
she?

He let his gaze wander around the
room once more and then he caught sight of her. Or at least half of her. Bent
at the waist, her top half inside the chest
that
held the th
ing
s now
thrown negligent
ly
about the room, she stood on her tiptoes. Her bottom aloft, he
was
offered a
very
intrigu
ing
view of
that
well-formed rear end.

He closed his eyes, convinced he
was
see
ing
th
ing
s. He opened them, closed
them again, shook his head for good measure, then opened them a final time.

Aye, 't
was
still there.

He raised his eyes heavenward. He
did
n't
need this.

Some sort of yellow material
covered her bottom.
That
was
not
what made him gape at
her in astonishment, however. There
was
a face on the material, a face
that
smiled and winked at him. He cleared his throat, but she did
n't
seem to hear him, so he
tried again. It looked
like
she
was
stuck.

"What are ye do
ing
, lass?" He asked,
not
quite
able to control a chuckle. His voice
shook with mirth, though he struggled manful
ly
not
to laugh out loud.
It
had
been a long
time since he'd found anyth
ing
amus
ing
.

Kristianna squeaked in surprise
and tried to turn her head to see who
was
gett
ing
an eyeful of
her rear end. She turned too fast, though, and ended up inside the chest on her
back, her legs dangl
ing
over the edge at the knees.

Iain stared for a moment, will
ing
his mirth under control.
He closed the door with a quiet click and rolled his eyes. He did
not
need a lass around who
could make him laugh. Laughter
was
not
part of be
ing
laird.
Not
now, when so much and so
many depended on his be
ing
strong. Later he could take the time for enjoyment, but now, he shook his head,
the pain of losi
ng
his
father, his miss
ing
sister, hear
ing
nary a
word from his two elder brothers. Nay, now
was
not
the time for
hilarity, although e
very
th
ing
in him wanted to burst
into laughter.