Laird of the Mist (7 page)

In the darkness of the hour, she had the castle all to herself. Not a single person was about and it gave her a sense of peace. It would be a fine thing to sketch the sunrise, she thought as she secured her pad under her arm.

Finally, she found the switch and turned on the light, casting away the gloom. She nimbly made her way down the long staircase to the ground floor and turned the lights on in the hallway. Switching off the stair‘s light behind her, she ventured on into the large entry hall and made her way to the oak door that was the castle‘s entrance. A printed sign on the door read,
Please bolt the door when you return. Door is not self-locking.

She found the iron bolt and pulled it across to open the door. A real bolted door, she smiled to herself, enjoying the antiquity of the place. The age and mood of the Victorian castle engulfed her as she stepped out onto the stone steps, shivering slightly in the mist that greeted her.

Olivia sketched for a few minutes as she watched the sun rise over the loch. The cold began to permeate, and regretfully, she stepped back inside the door, bolting it as the sign requested. Not ready to go back to her room, she sank comfortably into an overstuffed wing chair and sketched a bit more.

The silence was broken by a strange sound, as though someone was walking through the room. Light footsteps alerted her and she looked up from her pad.
Standing across the room was a tall man dressed in a Clan Donell kilt, matching hose, a plaid draped over his shoulder, and a dirk at his waist. He stared silently at her with a smug smile, his brown hair flowing down his collar.
―Who are you?‖ Olivia whispered to him.―Why have you come?‖
The apparition nodded to her in a courtly gesture and slowly faded away.
Olivia shook off the vision she had just witnessed and hastily began drawing him on her pad while she could still recall his features. Perhaps one of the castle staff would know who he was.

― Good morning, grandda.‖ Cat kissed her grandfather‘s cheek before sitting at the elegantly laid table.―Did you sleep well?‖
―Aye, Caitriona,‖ Hamish answered with an affectionate smile.―And a good day to ye too,‖ he greeted Carrick, who seated himself in one of the burgundy striped chairs. The dining room was warm and welcoming. Crisp, white tablecloths, Victorian wallpaper, and a fireplace gave the ambience of a home.
―A fine view of the loch.‖ Carrick nodded toward the windows.―A verra comfortable manse, this,‖ he commented, sipping the strong coffee that had been poured for him.
―I thought no one would ever get up!‖ Olivia plopped into her chair and grabbed a scone.―I‘m starving.‖
―How long have you been awake?‖ Cat asked, hiding a yawn behind her hand.
―I got up to watch the sunrise.‖ She laid her sketch pad on the table and poured herself some tea.―You won‘t believe what I saw.‖
―What did ye see?‖ Carrick asked, since Hamish and Cat were busy with their toast.
―Well…‖ Olivia was clearly excited.―I was sitting alone in the foyer, and all of a sudden, a ghost appeared. Honest, I‘m not kidding,‖ she said to Cat, who was giving her a skeptical look from across the table.
―Okay, Olivia,‖ Cat patronized her.―If you say so.‖
―Hey, I even drew him,‖ Olivia protested, opening her sketchbook to the drawing.―See for yourself.‖ She handed the portrait to Cat.
―Nice drawing,‖ Cat said, examining it closely.―No one I recognize.‖ She handed the pad to Carrick. ―Anyone you know?‘ she said, half joking.
Carrick took the pad and studied the drawing intently.―Aye,‖ he said finally.―I know him. He‘s my cousin John.‖
―You‘re serious?‖ Cat was taken aback.―You mean John MacDonell, Chief of Glengarry from your time?‖
―Oh, aye,‖ Carrick nodded, still looking at the drawing.―Ye should remember him, Cat.‖
―I only met him a few times, and my memories are still coming back slowly.‖ She looked over at the drawing again.―He‘s the one who let his first wife starve to death, isn‘t he?‖
―He did? Wow! This is great!‖ Olivia was beaming.―I really did see a ghost.‖
―Of course ye did.‖ Hamish squeezed her hand.―The place is full of them.‖
―And a right fair image of him, too, Olivia,‖ Carrick complimented her. ―Ye have him dead on. I wonder why he appeared to ye as he did.‖
―Thanks, Carrick.‖ She grinned, retrieving the pad. ―It was quite an experience. But he just kind of glowered at me. Didn‘t feel like talking, I guess.‖
―And you talk too much,‖ Cat teased her. ―He probably couldn‘t get a word in.‖
Everyone laughed at that, enjoying the companionable breakfast.
―Olivia‘s artistic skill reminds me.‖ Hamish grew serious. ―Ye have yer birth certificate, Carrick? The priest will need it this afternoon.‖
Carrick nodded and swallowed his egg. ―Aye, I do,‖ he answered. ―‗Tis safe in the room.‖
―Good.‖ Hamish sat back in his chair.―Our Olivia is a brilliant forger, what with the help of a computer. Put her art to good use, I say. Ye do remember,‖ he continued,―ye must go to Inverness and obtain a passport. We were lucky to get ye into the country, but ye shall no leave again without it.‖
―I understand.‖ Carrick smiled at the memory of Olivia creating a birth certificate for him. They had used Cat‘s, for she had been born in Scotland. Being that she was only one year younger than Carrick, the documents would have been contemporary in format. The new birth certificate read
Carrick Alasdair MacDonell
, and listed his birth date as February 8, 1983, instead of February 8, 1721.
―Look!‖ Cat pointed toward the window.―There‘s a deer underneath the apple tree where we are going to have the ceremony!‖
―A good omen, to be sure.‖ Carrick kissed her hand.
―It certainly is,‖ Hamish agreed as they watched the graceful animal graze.
―So grandda.‖ Olivia nudged him. ―What‘s in that long box you brought on the plane? When will you stop being so mysterious?‖
―In good time, Olivia.‖ He smiled at her.―Everything in good time.‖

They spent the rest of the morning exploring the expansive grounds of Glengarry Castle Hotel. The four of them walked down to the dock and enjoyed the music of the loch lapping against the shore. Then they wandered through the dense forest which skirted the grounds, stopping to examine particular plants, or listen to a bird singing in a fir tree.

The wedding was set for one o ‘clock, so after a quick lunch, Olivia joined Cat in her room to help her dress.
―This is a gorgeous ensemble, Cat.‖ Olivia held the green velvet stays up to herself, admiring it in the mirror.―Not white though.‖ Laying the stays aside, she picked up and shook out the full skirt.
―No,‖ Cat answered brushing her long hair over her shoulder.―I wanted something more to Carrick‘s time. White wasn‘t a wedding color then. Besides, I look good in that shade of green. And I love the
arisaidh
in the Donell tartan.‖
―Yes, you look gorgeous in that color,‖ Olivia agreed, helping Cat into the full skirt, and stays, then lacing up the back.―It fits you perfectly.And it‘s just right with your eyes and the flowers.‖
Cat swirled the
arisaidh
over her shoulders and pinned it in the front with a Donell clan brooch, with its single raven in the center. It formed a cape-like effect. The blues, greens, and reds of the intricate Donell tartan gleamed against the deep green of the stays and skirt.
Cat had wanted it simple. An elegant Highland outfit, unbound hair, and a bouquet of freshly picked heather, red roses, thyme, and Hawthorne blossoms from near the castle. Olivia wove some delicate heather into Cat‘s hair. When she finished, she stood back to view her sister.
―You are so beautiful.‖ Olivia‘s eyes were misting.―You have a kind of glow about you.‖
―Thank you, Olivia.‖ Cat hugged her, her own eyes a bit dewy.―It‘s time to go,‖ she said, breaking the embrace at the knock on the door.
―As the door opened, Hamish caught sight of Cat in her gown. With a proud smile, he extended his arm to her.―Ye‘re a lovely bride, Caitriona.I‘m happy I‘m giving ye to the right man,‖ he said with a small crack in his voice and lead her down the stairs and through to the terraced lawns beyond. There, under the apple tree where they had seen the deer, Carrick waited for her with the Reverend Watson.
Hamish had arranged for the priest to come from St. John‘s, an Episcopal church in Ballachulish, near Glencoe. Carrick was a Glencoe descendant. He and his family were Episcopalian, as was Cat.
As they neared the tree, Cat caught her breath. Carrick was in his great kilt and lace-trimmed shirt, his auburn hair tied back with a velvet ribbon. His eyes lit as Hamish placed Cat‘s hand into his.
―Go, lass,‖ Hamish whispered as he kissed her.―Be happy always.‖
―I will,‖ Cat replied as she fit her hand into Carrick‘s and turned to face him, a gentle smile in her eyes.
―We are gathered to witness the marriage of Caitriona Eilean MacPhail to Carrick Alasdair MacDonell,‖ the priest began. With most of the formalities complete, the priest took the end of his stole and wrapped it loosely around Cat and Carrick‘s joined hands.
―I bless this marriage and the fruit of it,‖ he said solemnly.―And I pronounce ye husband and wife.‖ He removed the stole and nodded to Carrick.
Deliberately, Carrick swept Cat into his arms and kissed her fervently. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him in equal measure.
―Ahem...‖ Hamish interrupted the kiss, lest it last all day.―I have a gift for ye, Carrick.‖
Reluctantly, Carrick broke from Cat and turned to Hamish.―Aye?‖ he said quizzically.―A gift? But I have nothing to give ye in return.‖
―My Caitriona‘s joy is all the gift needed,‖ Hamish said as he opened the long, mysterious box lying nearby.
He withdrew an old basket-hilted sword and extended it to Carrick with both hands.
―I present ye with the family sword,‖ Hamish began.―To welcome ye to the family, and in faith that ye will use it to protect Caitriona.‖
Moved by the gesture, Carrick bowed his head to Hamish.―I gratefully accept both honors, sir‖ he said humbly.―I will protect her forever, I assure ye,‖ he vowed as a large, jet-black raven landed on the branch above his head. Carrick gave a slight shudder at the bird and said, ―May it no come to the sword.‖
―What‘s with the raven?‖ Olivia whispered as Carrick kissed Cat again.
―An omen of war,‖ Hamish whispered back. ―Not good.‖
―Oh! But...‖Olivia began.
―Shhhh...‖ Hamish quieted her.
Carrick ended the quick kiss and raised the sword with respect to Cat.―I have a wee gift for ye, Caitriona,‖ he said and handed the sword to Hamish.―If you would, sir,‖ he said, removing a small package from his sporran.
―This is rightfully yers,‖ he explained as she took it.―It will serve to remind ye that I will keep ye safe and provide for ye always.‖
Cat‘s eyes widened as she removed the locket from the paper wrapping.
―My locket,‖ she murmured.―I had forgotten,‖ she said as she held it out for all to see.―Thank you so much!‖ she said, holding it up to her neck and turning for Carrick to fasten it. It was the perfect way to end the ceremony.
Reverend Watson bid then all a joyful farewell and left them under the tree to enjoy the champagne the hotel had provided.
―Much joy and many bairns,‖ Hamish toasted them, and they all raised their glasses together. They stood, laughing, talking, and sipping the champagne for a while, not wanting to end the moment.
Suddenly woozy, Cat groped for the chair behind her and quickly sat. A fine mist rose from the ground around her, causing her to shiver involuntarily.
―What is it, Cat?‖ Carrick took the glass from her and bent over in concern.
―Probably just too much champagne and excitement.‖ She smiled up at him, her arms around her stomach.―I‘ll be fine in a minute.‖
―Aye, probably so.‖ Hamish placed his hand on her cheek.―No fever. Just sit and rest a bit, Cat,‖ he advised, and backed up a bit to allow her some space.
Carrick and Olivia did the same, not taking their eyes from Cat, who was now bending over in half, gripping her head with both hands. The mist grew into a dense fog, nearly obscuring her from view.
―Oh, my God,‖ she cried, trying to see them through the mist.―The music is deafening and it‘s making my head explode!‖
―What music?‖ Olivia asked, looking around for its possible source..
―Can‘t you hear it?‖ Cat‘s eyes were streaming tears of pain.―It‘s the worst pain I‘ve ever...‖
With that partial declaration, Cat faded and disappeared completely from sight, leaving the mist to slowly evaporate.
―Caitriona!‖ Carrick yelled and raced to the empty chair.―Where is she?‖ He waved his hands to clear the remaining mist, then turned to the astonished pair behind him.―What has happened?‖ He was frantic, feeling every bit of the chair with both hands, as if he could conjure her back.
Olivia, stunned, stood stone still and silent, letting the champagne flow sideways from her glass onto the lawn.
Hamish was white and looked strangely frail. He could not move or speak a word.
―God‘s damnation!‖ Carrick raged as he lifted the locket from the empty chair, holding it at arm‘s length as if it were a venomous snake. Realization dawned as he wrapped his fist around it.―That cursed locket,‖ he swore.―It‘s taken her back to 1746!‖
The statement shook Hamish from his shock.―Oh, dear Lord,‖ he said, terror shaking his voice as he trembled.―Tomorrow is the day Cumberland attacks the castle and fires all the crofts in the glen!‖