Timeless Mist (11 page)

"Well," she jumped up
from the bed and met his glare with one of her own. "for now you'll just
have
to take my word for
it."

"Huh," Iain scoffed,
"do ye think me dull witted enough to take the word of a woman, especial
ly
a Sassenach woman? I'm
not
complete
ly
foolish, nor am I stupid
enough to be believ
ing
anyth
ing
a Sassenach
might say." He returned the chair to the small table and turned to leave.

Kris jumped in front of him,
block
ing
his path to
the door. "My last name might be English, but my
mother
is a MacGregor, so
that
makes me a MacGregor as
well." She poked her f
ing
er
none to gent
ly
in his
chest to emp
has
ize her
words.

Iain crossed his arms in front of
him, his eyes darkened dangerous
ly
,
and he snorted in derision, "and what self-respect
ing
MacGregor,
not
mention Scotsman, would lower himself, or herself as the case may be, enough to
be wedd
ing
herself to
a Sassenach?" His words
were
loaded with ridicule and his contemptuous tone sparked her anger further.

"How dare you," Kris
spat, "you think anyone who is
n't
Scottish is less than you are? You think just because I
have
English blood in me
that
I'm
not
worthy to live and walk
on this earth, just as you are? You think you're better than me because you're
a man and I'm
not
? Well
I
have
a newsflash for
you, buster, the world does
not
revolve around Iain MacGregor. It's
not
all about you." She finished with an icy glare in his direction.

*          *          *

Iain stared at her in stunned
surprise, rendered speechless by her outburst. He
wasn't
sure what shocked him the most, the
tears
that
shone in
her eyes, or the fact
that
he wanted to comfort her.

He watched her for a few silent
moments. Her tears tore at his heart. He reached to brush away a tear
that
left a trail down her
cheek. If there
was
one th
ing
he could
not
abide, it
was
to see a woman cry. Whether
out of sadness or anger, it did
not
matter; he especial
ly
hated it know
ing
he
had
been the cause of those
tears. He'd already experienced her tears once and did not care to see a repeat
of the like.

Kris tore away from his touch as
if he'd burned her, a choked cry com
ing
from her. Iain clenched his hands at his sides, wonder
ing
silent
ly
if he'd just lost what few wits he
had
.
He wanted to comfort her, to hold her and kiss away her sobs, but found himself
at a loss as to how or why her weep
ing
affected him
that
way.
She
was
a Sassenach. He
should
not
want to soothe
her at all.

Kris whirled back around to face
him, tears still glisten
ing
on her lashes. "If I
had
some kind of proof to offer you, do
n't
you think I would? I would glad
ly
offer you any and all evidence I could get my hands on
that
I'm
not
a spy,
that
I
really
am from the
future." She held out her hands in supplication, "if you could just
give me a bit of time, I'll think of someway to show you I'm tell
ing
the truth."

Iain looked down at her, steal
ing
himself against her
tears. "I know of
not
h
ing
I would accept from a
Sassenach as proof
that
ye arenae
lying
."

"Look, all I'm ask
ing
for is some time. I'll
think of someth
ing
you'll accept. Would it kill you to give me the time I'm ask
ing
for?" She spoke
with as reasonable a voice as she could manage, though it fair
ly
choked her to do so.

Iain sighed. He
was
sudden
ly
very
tired. The silence filled the room. He
looked at the ceil
ing
,
but no divine help
was
forthcom
ing
. He looked
at Kris again, her eyes still bright with unshed tears, and came to a decision,
though it went against his better judgment.

"Nay, 'tis no' too much to
ask of me, I suppose. I will gi'e ye the time ye ask for." He spoke grudg
ingly
and with cool
authority. "But," he continued before she could thank him, "I
dinnae trust ye." He wanted to make
that
part perfect
ly
clear. Whether
to her or to himself he
wasn't
sure.

"Thank you for at least giv
ing
me some more time."
Kris whispered with a sigh of relief. She offered him a tremulous smile. He
would give her time to find proof. She
really
hadn't
expected him to
trust her. Maybe he would after learn
ing
she spoke the truth. Well, most
ly
the truth. Damn, she thought silent
ly
.
She knew
that
lie
was
go
ing
to haunt her with guilt.

Her smile
was
lethal. If someone
had
punched him in the gut, the effect would
have
been no less. Her
smile, though slight, lit her face and revealed a small dimple on her right
cheek. Her tears
had
been one th
ing
, but
her smile, no matter how minuscule,
almost
undid his firm resolve.

He did
n't
need a woman in his life he reminded
himself yet again. He'd
had
two too many already.

"How much time do I
have
?" she asked, lick
ing
her lips nervous
ly
.

"I must think on
that
." Iain strode to
the door, "I shall return when I
have
made my decision." With
that
,
he stalked out of the room, afraid to stay a moment longer, afraid of what he
might do if he looked any longer into her hope filled green eyes.

*          *          *

Kris heard the soft click after
he shut the door. Afraid of what he'd done, she raced to the door. She turned
the knob, unsurprised to discover he'd locked her in. She pressed her ear to
the door at the sound of voices on the other side. The door
was
too thick to make out
exact
ly
what
was
said, but she
was
certain she heard Iain's
deep baritone. Whatever he said, it could
n't
be good.

She sighed and leaned against the
door. How in the world
was
she go
ing
to come up
with anyth
ing
to prove
she told the truth about be
ing
from the future? It would be
almost
impossible. She crossed the room and flopped onto the bed, immediate
ly
decid
ing
never to flop again. The
lumpy bed
was
not
conducive to flopp
ing
.

She rubbed her head and turned
her mind to figur
ing
out how, where, or even what she could find for evidence. She could tell him of
all the th
ing
s she
knew about,
like
planes, cars, computers, et cetera, but would he believe her? Doubtful. It
would probab
ly
make
him think her even more delusional.

Kris continued to turn over
several possibilities but discarded them all. She could come up with more than
a hundred th
ing
s to
tell Iain, but
not
one
of them offered any solid evidence she told the truth about where, or when, she
was
from.

"Damn." She swore in
frustration. There
had
to be someth
ing
she
could do, some way to convince him. If she
had
her backpack with her,
that
would help. There
was
evidence aplenty in there. Unfortunate
ly
,
it
was
still in her
room at the castle in the future and she
was
stuck in the past.

"Wait a minute." She
sat up with a start, too quick she realized and put a hand to her head. The
quick movement made Kris' already ach
ing
head spin. What
had
made Iain think she
was
a witch in the first place? He'd waved someth
ing
in her face, but
had
tucked it into his sporran before she'd gotten a good look at it. What
was
it, and more important
ly
, where
had
it come from?

Now there
was
a question she'd ask him first th
ing
. As soon as she could
get out of this room.

Chapter Seven

"No one is to go in or out
of
that
room."

"Aye, Laird," the guard
acknowledged the command with a nod.

Satisfied his order would be
followed, Iain returned to his own chamber. He threw the strange pack a dark
look of disdain before he sank down heavi
ly
into the chair by the fire. It could
not
be possible. No one could travel through time.

True, her accent
was
pass
ing
strange, un
like
any he'd ever heard
before. There
were
times she seemed to lose her Scottish accent altogether. From
that
he gathered she
had
not
grown up in the highlands. But nor
was
her accent
that
of a Sassenach either. Others
might suggest she came from the lowlands, but Iain
had
traveled there a time or two, and could
understand people there without too much trouble.

At times it took Iain a moment or
two to puzzle out what she said. She used words he'd never heard before, even
in all his travels, but if he listened close, he could get the basic gist of
her words and their mean
ing
.
Most of the time, leastwise.

The way she'd been dressed when
Raibert found her
was
also more than pass
ing
odd.
Not
to mention
that
portrait he still
carried in his sporran. 'T
was
un
like
any he'd ever
seen before, and he'd seen many.

It would
have
been a much simpler matter for him if
she'd
not
spouted her
tale about be
ing
from
the future. He would
have
discovered what clan she belonged to and returned her to them if they
were
allies. If they'd
turned out to be enemies, he'd
likely
have
ransomed her.

Mayhap he could
have
worked out some kind of
treaty between her clan and his.  He
was
not
averse to marry
ing
to secure some peace for
his clan. Although he would prefer a much more biddable maid than Kristianna
seemed to be. As long as she
wasn't
a Campbell
that
is. He
would rather do
almost
anyth
ing
than try to
treaty with them.

Now? What
was
he to do with the lass now? If she spoke
the truth, none of the neighbor
ing
lairds or clans would
have
any knowledge of her. And, if he
were
honest with himself, how could he deny she spoke the truth? He cast a glance at
her pack and the extraordinary items still strewn on the table before him.

Either she
was
a witch, or…he sighed
and ran his f
ing
ers
through his hair. Or she spoke the truth about be
ing
from the future.

Iain considered himself fair
ly
well educated, but even
he
had
a difficult
time wrapp
ing
his mind
around
that
thought.
Wasn't
the world supposed to
end long before the numbers she'd spouted? All the priests said so.
Not
that
he'd believed them, of course, but there
were
a great many who did.

He rose from his chair and walked
to the window. Look
ing
out at the meadows beyond the walls of his keep, he breathed deep
ly
of the fresh, spr
ing
air. His whirl
ing
thoughts
were
beginn
ing
to give him pains in the
head.

He'd grown to manhood on tales of
the Fae muck
ing
about
in people's lives and stories of people who'd stood on fairy hills or in fairy
r
ing
s on
ly
to disappear and never be
seen or heard from again, but he'd never
really
believed them. He'd thought them all just stories parents told their bairns to
keep them from misbehav
ing
.

Still, he mused, Scotland
had
always been a land of
magic and power. He'd
not
iced
the difference the first time he'd left and returned home again. He'd known it
the moment he set foot on Scottish soil again. He'd sensed it in his soul. 'T
was
as if the land itself
was
alive, even the air
seemed to crackle with anticipation and eagerness.

What in the name of all the
blessed saints
was
he
supposed to do with a lass who claimed she
was
from the future? Several hundred years in the future to be exact. Heaven forbid
anyone else in his clan discovered her tale. The lass would
n't
last a se'nnight. He
would be unable to keep her safe from the superstitions and fears of his
people. Even in this modern age, old superstitions died hard.

Why he cared and wished to keep
her safe
was
someth
ing
he did
n't
care to examine to close
ly
. Unbidden, the image of
her stuck in the truck with her rear end aloft came to his mind, followed by
the feel of her in his arms and his lips on hers. Iain closed his eyes and
willed the image away.

He said he'd give her time to
prove her tale, but how much time could he give her? And how did she think she
could verify such a story? Mayhap he could pawn her off on some unsuspect
ing
laird and still gain
someth
ing
from the exchange.

Ahh, but when he thought of her
smile, and her eyes bright with tears, someth
ing
tugged at his heart. He did
n't
like
the thought of
some other man kiss
ing
her, touch
ing
her,
hold
ing
her. Those
were
precise
ly
the th
ing
s he wanted to do, all of
them and more.

Bah! 'T
was
impossible for him to feel anyth
ing
in his heart when he
knew for certain he no longer possessed
that
particular organ. Both of his betrothed wives
had
cured him of any
not
ion
he might
have
entertained
that
love
even existed. To care for one's fami
ly
,
aye,
that
was
right and proper, but to
feel anyth
ing
but
kindness or duty
was
a
not
her matter altogether.

One day he would take a bride,
someone young enough to train to his ways, get her with a child or two so he'd
have
an heir then leave her
to her own devices. He would provide for her, care for her, see she
was
well fed, housed, and
clothed, and let
that
be the end of it.

*          *          *

"The big jerk," Kris
mumbled as she paced her chamber, her irritation grow
ing
with each step. She crossed to the door and
glared at it. "Just who do you think you are lock
ing
me in here? You
have
no right." She banged on the door,
"let me out."

The voices she heard on the other
side refused to answer. She stuck her tongue out at the door.

"Look, whoever you are, you
tell
that
bonehead
laird of yours to let me out of this room right now. Just let me out and I'll
be on my way." To where, she
had
no clue, but anywhere
was
better than here. Maybe if she traveled back to the forest, she could somehow
get home. Maybe it
had
someth
ing
to do with
the heavy mist
that
clung to the trees in the woods.

"Are you even listen
ing
to me?" Kris
pounded on the door again.

Had
they left? She pressed her ear against the thick wood, but could hear
not
h
ing
. With a longsuffer
ing
sigh of frustration, she leaned her
forehead against the door. How long she stayed
that
way, she
wasn't
sure,
but final
ly
she moved,
realiz
ing
she
had
to do someth
ing
. She could
n't
just stand here and wait
for Iain to come back.

She crossed to the chair where she'd
hung her nightshirt to dry after she'd
was
hed
it out the night before. Still damp.

Her head jerked up when she heard
muffled voices on the other side of the door. She ran back to the door and put
her ear against it again. She still could
n't
make out any words, but one of the voices sounded distinct
ly
feminine. Maybe it
was
Elsbeth come to rescue
her or maybe someone who could help her, someone who could at least let her out
of here long enough to hightail it back to the woods.

"Let me out of here." She
beat on the door once more. "Please." She pleaded.

The door swung open
almost
immediate
ly
. Kris jumped out of the
way, then stopped and stared, open-mouthed. In the doorway stood one of the
most beautiful women Kris
had
ever seen.

Good grief, the woman would put
any supermodel to shame. She strolled into the room with a noble grace Kris
could never hope to achieve even on her best day. Her gaze swept Kris from head
to toe and back up again, miss
ing
not
h
ing
. The woman's regal bear
ing
made Kris
very
self-conscious of her
own state.

She glanced down at her rumpled
nightgown and tried unsuccessful
ly
to smooth it a bit. She felt
like
the queen of grunge. Well, there
wasn't
much she could do about her appearance, as this
was
all she
had
to wear at
the moment, besides her nightshirt of course, and
that
was
still wet.

 Thick, dark hair cascaded over
the woman's shoulders in graceful waves. In dismay, Kris reached up to touch
her own hair, which
hadn't
seen a brush in
almost
two days. F
ing
er comb
ing
just did
n't
cut it. Her foray into
the woods
hadn't
done
it much good either.

Her grand
mother
's voice sounded in her ear "never
let anyone make you feel less than you are, Kristianna Elizabeth. You are a
bright, beautiful young woman with
a
lot
to offer anyone who cares to take the time to look."

Kris straightened her shoulders
and met the woman's eyes with as much dignity as she could muster.

The woman's blue eyes
were
full of life, although
Kris detected a deep pain in their depths. She broadcasted a noble certainty
and calmness
that
made
Kris shift her feet nervous
ly
,
though she tried her best
not
to.

She moistened her sudden
ly
dry lips. "Hello."

"Good day to ye." The
woman inclined her head a bit. "I am Sorcha MacGregor." She smiled,
though it did
n't
quite
reach her sad eyes. "You
must be Kristianna."

"I-yes, I am." Who
was
this woman?
Was
she Iain's wife? Kris
searched her memory for what she'd read about Iain, as well as what Mr.
MacGregor
had
told
her. Oh!
Was
this the
woman
that
Iain loved?
No,
that
could
n't
be. Mr. MacGregor said
she'd been a Campbell.

"I am Iain's
màthair
."

Well
that
cleared
that
up.

"'Tis a strange garment ye
have
there."

Kris followed Sorcha's gaze to
the chair where her Pat's nightshirt
was
still dry
ing
, "I
suppose it is," she shrugged.

"I thought mayhap ye would
like
someth
ing
a wee bit more
substantial than broth." Sorcha turned as Elsbeth bustled into the room
with a tray laden with food.

Elsbeth placed the tray on the
small table and smiled at Kris.

"Yes, thank you.
That
would be wonderful."

Come, sit, and eat," Sorcha
took Kris by the hand and led her to the table, "and while ye eat, ye can
tell me all about yourself." She broke into an easy, friend
ly
smile.

"You want to know about
me?"

"Of course, my dear. 'Tis
not
very
often
that
we
have
guests. I do
n't
know why my son
had
the bad manners to lock
you in here, but I
have
my suspicions."

"Possib
ly
because he's a big
jerk." Kris mumbled under her breath. She heard Sorcha chuckle, however,
and realized she must
have
heard her. "I did
n't
mean…"

. "No need to apologize,
dear." Sorcha cut her off, "I know well what my son can be
like
. I also know he is
not
verra trust
ing
. 'Tis a verra unsettl
ing
time, ye understand, and
to trust to easi
ly
could mean a great deal of danger to all of us just now."