Timeless Mist

by Terisa Wilcox

  Timeless Mist

  By Terisa Wilcox

  Dedication

  To my husband Earl, for always being there for me and helping me too never give up on my dream. You are a true knight in shining armor.

  To my children, Myke and Cindy, Jessie, and Matt, for inspiring me in ways you’ll never know.

  And last but not least, to Jody Bear and J. I couldn't have gotten here without you girls!

  Chapter One

  "What ha'e ye done with her?" The deep voice broke into the quietness of the field she'd been enjoying.

  Kristianna turned toward that somehow familiar baritone. Her jaw slid south. She wouldn't have been surprised to hear it clunk on her chest it dropped so fast.

  Standing before her, nose to nose, was the biggest, blackest horse she'd ever seen, she blinked a time or two, but it didn't help. Still the beast stood before her. The huge horse snorted and blew, pawing the ground as it continued to stare at her.

  Kris closed her eyes and shook her head. No way was this happening. She had a great imagination. Not a moment ago she'd gazed at the meadow now behind her, wanting nothing more than to lie down in the sweet-smelling field of heather, close her eyes and relish the peacefulness moving through her.

  "I ask ye once again, wench, what ha'e ye done wi' her?"

  She opened her eyes and let her eyes travel up, up and up some more to see who spoke to her. Her breath hitched in her throat and solidified there. Her knees wobbled at the sight of the man sitting atop his horse. Not only was he more gorgeous than any man had a right to be, he was also very large and looked none too happy at the moment.

  His face, bronzed by wind and sun, looked as familiar as his voice had sounded. She'd seen him before and the sight of him ripped a sigh of pleasure from her.

  "I haven't done anything with anyone," she began when his question finally penetrated her brain. She shook her head, confused. This was not how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to jump off his dark horse and pledge his undying love and devotion, not ask about some other woman.

  "Dinnae make me ask ye again," he thundered, as without warning, he leapt from his enormous horse, drew his sword and pointed it at her. Apparently, he was not convinced of her innocence. "Tell me what ye ha'e done wi' her and mayhap I shall let ye live."

  Her pulse began to beat erratically at the very genuine threat in his deep voice. "Look," Kris said, keeping her voice as soft and calm as she could with a very real, very sharp looking broadsword pointed at her chest, "I don't have any idea who you're talking about. If you tell me who it is you're looking for, maybe I can help you find her. Just put that sword away…"

  Before she could finish that thought, the man advanced on her, sword raised, ready to strike. Kris couldn't help but admire the way he moved with such an easy grace for a man so powerful and well-muscled.

  Stunned when the point of the sword actually poked her in the chest, Kris put her hands up in front of her and stumbled backwards as the man continued to move toward her, his face a mask of anger.

  With a yelp, she tripped, and fell to her backside.

  And woke up.

  "Damn." She blinked several times and rubbed her hands over her face. "Bloody hell, not again," she muttered. "If I must continue to have dreams about this guy, can't I at least control the outcome once in a while?" Blowing her hair out of her eyes in frustration, she sighed and raised her eyes upward. No divine answer seemed to be coming from that quarter.

  More awake now, she looked around her darkened bedroom, grumbled a bit as she untangled herself from the blankets, and tossed them back on the bed. With a groan, she grabbed the footboard at the end of her four-poster bed and hauled herself up from where she'd landed on the floor.

  "Fine, if I can't control the outcome of that stupid dream, do you think it would be too much to ask that I at least not fall out of bed every single freakin' time?"

  With more irritated mutterings, she plopped down on the edge of the bed and peered at her alarm clock. Four A.M. and she was wide-awake.

  Again.

  No sense in even trying to get back to sleep now, she'd have to be up in an hour or so anyway.

  She pushed her feet into her favorite fuzzy slippers, stood, grabbed her robe from the end of the bed, and made her way to the kitchen. Flipping the switch for the lights, then the one to start the coffee brewing, she cast a sleepy glance at the refrigerator and couldn't stop the wide grin and giddy giggle.

  At least today there was good reason for her excitement and inability to get back to sleep. On the fridge, two magnets held in place the reason for her exhilaration -one round-trip airplane ticket to Scotland.

  She began to bounce on her heels in anticipation. Her entire art-history class was due to fly out of Logan Airport in Boston in just a few short hours. She'd gotten her passport, paid off all her credit cards and been packed for almost two weeks now. The only thing left to do was wait for Hailey to pick her up, get to the airport, and board the plane.

  The coffee maker beeped, signaling it was finally ready. She poured her coff

  ee into her favorite mug, added the requisite amounts of cream and sugar, and took a deep breath, inhaling the wonderful aroma before taking a large swallow. She stood there a moment, savoring the caffeine as it began to do its wonderful work.

  It must be anticipation about the trip that inspired these weird dreams, she decided, as she sipped more coffee. Although in the back of her mind a nagging suspicion said there was far more to it than that, she chose to ignore it. Maybe it was just a lack of junk food. She'd been on a strict diet for over a month, trying to lose a few extra pounds before her trip. Who knew what kind of detrimental effects a lack of chocolate could bring on a girl?

  Kris giggled at herself and continued to sip her coffee. Pushing those thoughts aside, she moved to her kitchen table and stared at the almost finished sketch with a critical eye. She'd almost captured him, but there was still something missing she just couldn't quite put her finger on. It was a sketch that portrayed the man who insisted on invading her dreams nearly every night for the past few weeks.

  Unable to resist, she sat down at the table, picked up her pencil and began to work. She'd just do a bit on it before she got dressed and waited for Hailey.

  * * *

  Kristianna Campbell stood in the middle of the empty hallway, in a MacGregor castle in Scotland, frozen to the floor, her knees ready to buckle from the force of the shock that reverberated through her. This was not possible. She put her hand on the wall to steady herself and glanced behind her. She needed to sit down, but there were no chairs. Only that painting occupied the dimly lit hallway.

  That painting. She swallowed, unable to keep her eyes from straying back to the man who stared down at her. The man from her dreams. Not only that, but the painting itself looked familiar as well. It was almost exactly the same as the sketch she'd been working on. The one in her suitcase.

  When she'd arrived in Scotland yesterday with her classmates, and realized they'd be staying in a castle owned by the MacGregor's, she'd been ecstatic. True, she was a Campbell, but through her adoptive grandparents on her màthair's side, she considered herself a MacGregor as well. Maybe even more so considering she'd lived more with her grandparents than her parents.

  She refocused her attention on the man in the portrait.

  Sunlight from the nearby window lit his face. His shoulder length hair glinted with blue highlights, a shade darker than the crisp hair visible at the opening of his white shirt.

  Compelled, she leaned forward, her hand extended. Her fingers itched to touch him. His vibrant blue eyes locked with hers. She moved nearer. His full mustache did nothing to hide the firm mouth that twitched in a mocking, self-confident smirk, almost daring her t
o move closer.

  She dared.

  She reached to touch the silver brooch fastened to the red and green MacGregor plaid draped carelessly over his shoulder. It was something safe, not real like the rest of him.

  Real?

  Kris snatched her hand away. She looked around, fearful someone had seen her. The carpeted hallway was still empty. Why then did she have the sensation she wasn't alone, that someone watched her?

  She shook her head. What a vivid imagination. There was nobody about and the painting was just an inanimate object, nothing more. The déjà vu that washed over her however was hard to ignore.

  With a deep breath to calm her shaking nerves, she looked up once more, finding it impossible not to stare at the man. Tall, with broad shoulders, he stood with legs braced slightly apart. His muscled arms crossed over his chest portrayed self-assurance in every line of his powerful frame.

  Kris closed her eyes and shivered.

  "Is everything all right, Miss Campbell?"

  Kris jumped and whirled around with a squeak. Brian MacGregor, the proprietor of MacGregor Castle, stood beside her a look of concern in his deep blue eyes. A sweet, older man of about sixty or so, he reminded her of St. Nick from 'Twas The Night Before Christmas with his white beard and moustache and slightly rounded figure. She offered him a smile, realizing it came out a bit on the shaky side.

  "I didn't mean to startle you," he chuckled.

  "It's okay," she waved a dismissive hand at him. "I guess I was lost in my thoughts and didn't hear you. And please, call me Kris." Every time someone called her Miss Campbell, it only reminded her of how close she had been to becoming a real MacGregor. She still wouldn't mind being a MacGregor, but not at the expense of her dignity. She couldn't decide if she was more happy or relieved that she hadn't followed through with her plans to marry David.

  Kris shook her head the moment she realized her mind was wandering into the forbidden zone again. She was here to study and have fun, not to think about her past mistakes. Besides, there were more important things to ponder. Such as that man staring at her from the portrait behind her.

  "'Tis a fine rendering of the Laird, wouldn't you say?" Bryan gestured to the painting.

  "Oh, um, yes I suppose it is." Kris couldn't resist a glance over her shoulder. "Which Laird is it? I don't see any plaque."

  "'Tis Iain MacGregor, Laird of that clan for some months in 1604." His brogue brought to mind memories of listening to her adoptive grandparents, Thelma and Robert MacGregor.

  "Iain MacGregor, huh?" The man who invaded her dreams since she'd agreed to come to Scotland was a real person. At least now she had a name to go with the face. She shivered. And not because of the sudden breeze that blew through the window. Dreaming about the man was bad enough, knowing he lived in reality, had been a real live flesh and blood man, sent tingles down her spine.

  "He was Laird for only a few months? Did something happen to him that he was only Laird for such a short time?" How tragic if he died soon after becoming Laird.

  "'Tis unknown what became of him. He vanished during the early summer of 1604. As you can imagine, rumors and tales abound about what really happened to him."

  "What do you mean he vanished?"

  "Just that, lass. He disappeared one day never to be heard from again."

  "Something must have happened to him. I assume there's a legend or two about it." Kris smiled knowingly.

  "Aye," Mr. MacGregor nodded. "Legend has it that he'd fallen in love, found his mate. The lady of his heart, however, was said to be a Campbell."

  "A mortal enemy of the MacGregor's in the 17th century. Weren't they the ones who pushed the hardest for the MacGregor's proscription?"

  "Aye, that they were. Ye know some of our history then?"

  "I do. My maternal grandparents were Scottish. MacGregor's actually."

  "Well, what a wonder, that. Anyway, ye are right, the MacGregor's had many enemies during that time and before, but the Campbell's were the fiercest of those enemies in the seventeenth century. Aye and for many centuries before and after that as well, Miss Campbell." With emphasis on her name, he gave her a knowing wink.

  She laughed, "lucky for us were not in the 17th century, anymore then, hmm?" she whispered in Gaelic.

  "I see you know a bit of our language." Bryan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Ye are a wonder, lass."

  "As I said, my grandparents were Scottish. They insisted my siblings and I learn the language. Although some of us picked it up better than others."

  A chuckle escaped them both.

  "Please, continue with your tale. Tell me what happened?"

  "'Aye, well, 'tis said Iain sent his lady away for her own safety as well as the safety of his clan and himself as well. He realized 'twas better for all involved if they parted. They'd had enough troubles from the Campbell's and did not wish to borrow more. Iain grew heartsick after she left however, realizing he could not live without her. He rode away from the keep one day with a vow not to return without her." His eyes met hers with a knowing look.

  "And?" She asked after a few moments of silence. She was torn between conflicting emotions of anticipation and dread. Disconcerted, she crossed her arms in front of her and looked away.

  "'Tis said he was never seen or heard from again."

  Kris met his gaze for a moment then lowered it to stare at the floor. "Where is she?" She could hear that voice from her dream, hard and cold.

  Had the Iain in her dreams been asking Kris about his lost love? Is that who he'd been trying to find? But why her? What was she supposed to know about it? Granted, she was a Campbell, but how was she to know what had become of a woman who had disappeared more than four centuries ago? Heck, why did she have to be the one plagued by dreams of the guy in the first place? Especially one who was interested in another woman.

  "Now you know the legend of Iain MacGregor," Bryan said, still looking at her as if he knew something she didn't.

  Kris shivered again and looked uneasily over her shoulder once more. "That's a very interesting story."

  "Aye, isn't it though?" He gave her another long look, "Scotland is full of such tales and legends. 'Tis a very superstitious, magical land." He stared at her some more before he reached for her hand, "shall we make our way to the great hall now? I'm sure my cook has planned a pleasant repast for ye and your friends."

  Kris snapped back to the present yet again, and nodded, though she couldn't help but wonder what it all meant.

  "I daresay the others will be getting impatient waiting for their dinner, and I wouldn't wish them to raid the kitchens," he added with a mischievous grin.

  Kris forced herself to concentrate on what the older man was saying. "It's a terrible crime to raid someone else's kitchen." Kris couldn't help but smile as she concentrated on what Mr. MacGregor was saying. Not wishing to appear rude, she ruthlessly shoved aside any thoughts of Iain MacGregor and her weird dreams of him and resisted the urge to look behind her at that painting once more.

  "Indeed it is, Miss. Especially my kitchens. If you had to listen to the cook the last time it happened, you would think it a crime worthy of death indeed."

  Kris laughed. She could understand the cooks' irritation on the matter. When she got in the cooking mood, everyone cleared out. Those who didn't might find themselves ducking random utensils thrown at their heads.

  Kris took her seat next to Hailey at the enormous table in the Greathall.

  "Hey Kris. You get lost too?" Hailey's eyes twinkled with mischief.

  "This place is so big, it's a wonder I didn't get lost just stepping out of my room."

  Best friends since early high school, Kris had been thrilled when they'd both ended up at the same college. She laughed with her friend and turned her attention to the Greathall, getting her first good look at it since they arrived. She could understand why they called it a Greathall. The room was an enormous. She was almost certain her grandmother's entire house, though large, would fit into this one room
.

  Dinner was brought out and placed on the tables by servants dressed in period costumes. Bryan MacGregor stood to get everyone's attention. "I'd like to welcome you all to MacGregor Castle. I hope you enjoy your stay with us. If I, or any of my staff, can be of assistance to you, please let us know. I'll be interested to see some of your creations when they're finished. I wouldn't be averse to have my own portrait done by one of you either." He chuckled and the rest of the hall shared in his laughter.

  His eyes locked on to Kris, and he winked before he turned back to the rest of his guests. "Please enjoy the feast and the activities we have planned for your stay with us in Scotland."

  Chapter Two

  Kris awoke at dawn to the sound of bagpipes and drums wafting through her open window. She hadn't dreamt of Iain last night, which both relieved and disappointed her. On the one hand, she was tired of him asking her about another woman, especially if that other woman was his lost love. She was also getting really tired of falling out of bed. On the other hand, in some weird way, she sort of missed his perpetual scowl. No one had a right to look that sexy with such a grim expression plastered on his face.

  "Did the man never smile?" She couldn't help but wonder out loud.

  She shook her head at her foolishness. True, he was handsome, and sexy, in a bad boy kind of way, but come on, it was more than a little twisted to be carrying on a romance only in her dreams. Although one couldn't really consider it a romance when all the man did was ask her about another woman.

  Besides, a guy like that would never take an interest in someone like her. That kind went for the tall, leggy blonds, like Hailey. They did not generally find women like Kris, who barely topped five feet, three inches, and then only when she stood real straight, not to mention the freckles and red hair, attractive. Maybe friends, but not, in her experience, as a love interest.

  She'd carried on fantasy romances with guys like him as a young teenager, but that was out of loneliness. She had never been very popular in school, having few she could call friend.