Timeless Mist

by Terisa Wilcox

  She took all of her sorrow and misery and tucked it away in a secret, secure part of her heart. She was here, in the seventeenth century and this was where she would have to make her life. Somehow.

  She knew in order to accomplish that, she could not continue to pace this one room without going bonkers. She had to get out of here and do something, anything besides look at these same four walls.

  She looked at the door and an idea began to take shape. She was no longer locked in. She could pretty much come and go as she pleased. A little exploring might be just the thing to help her settle down. If she kept busy, maybe she could keep her depressing thoughts away for a time. She didn't want to think anymore, nor did she wish to cry. She'd done enough of both since she'd realized she could probably never get home.

  One thing she knew for certain, she was going to have to find a way to support herself. She had no idea how she could achieve that, seeing as she really didn't have the skills necessary to be a cook or a seamstress. Perhaps she could become a lady's maid or something. Whatever she did, she was stuck here, so she might as well make the most of it.

  Her decision made, she headed for the door when a sharp rap sounded a moment before Iain stepped into the room. Kris met his gaze and felt the heat of a blush warm her cheeks at the open admiration in his eyes.

  Iain let his gaze travel from her face, down her neck, down more to view the tops of her full breasts and his breath hitched in his throat.

  "Ye look lovely lass." He spoke after several moments of trying to find his voice.

  The gown she wore fitted her torso snugly then flared a bit from the waist. The deep burgundy of the dress illuminated her skin, the candlelight making it glow. Her eyes had changed from their normal blue-green to an almost brilliant blue in color.

  "Thank you," Kris managed, her cheeks again growing warm as Iain continued to stare at her. She glanced down at her feet, feeling shy and awkward against the very obvious double meaning in his gaze.

  There was a tingling in the pit of her stomach as she fought the overwhelming urge to be close to him. It would be too easy to get lost in the way he looked at her. Such a lure would be hazardous to her emotional state and something she could ill afford to do at the moment. She needed to make plans for her future and those plans did not include the man in front of her. Not that he'd be interested anyway.

  She shrugged that thought aside and closed her eyes, purposely shutting out any awareness of him. With her eyes closed, her other senses sprang to life. She heard Iain move closer to her, could smell the musky, male scent of him, could feel the heat emanate from him.

  Iain reached out a hand to gently cup her chin, "open your eyes, lass."

  Not knowing why, Kris obeyed.

  Through narrowed eyes, Iain watched her gaze meet his, then drop lower to his lips before darting away. The tip of her tongue came out to slide over her lower lip, wetting the shell pink flesh until it gleamed in the muted light. The gesture was innocently sensual.

  Iain suppressed a groan. For one insane second, he wanted nothing more than to bend his head and replace her tongue with his own. The urge was so strong and so sudden it pushed the breath from him.

  He shook his head, trying to clear it. The repercussions of such an action happening again he did not even wish to think about. He wanted no entanglements with another female. He'd already had enough of a taste of her too know that she would be dangerous to him, too his heart. He would betroth her if necessary, but 'twas only a logical decision. He could not afford to let his emotions become involved.

  Besides, he reminded himself, he had no emotions. He would wed her in the Highland way, for a year and a day. If, at the end of that time, either of them wished to end it, neither would suffer from it. She would then be free to go her way or stay with his clan and marry someone else of her own choosing. There would be no hurt feelings, for there would be none of those involved. His heart, his emotions, would not, could not, be involved. He could not let them be. Beathag and Isobel had snuffed out any heart he'd once had.

  Kris came to her senses slowly. She was shocked to see how close Iain was standing to her; a mere inch was all that separated his chest from hers. The thought no sooner crossed her mind than she sensed more than saw him lean closer. Their bodies touched, hard against soft, warmth against warmth. Kris sucked in a breath and tried to move away, but her feet refused to cooperate.

  Iain's head lowered without his permission, though he did his best to squelch it, too bury the urge. As their lips met, Kris sighed and melted into his embrace. It wasn't an all-consuming kiss. It was merely a gentle touching of his lips to hers. He simply wanted to taste her mouth again. Wanted to feel them soft and welcoming beneath his. Just when he would have normally deepened the kiss, he broke it off.

  Kris swayed, her eyes still closed, a contented sigh escaping her still parted lips. He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, just trying to catch his own breath. The simple kiss had shaken him to his core.

  "Mathair sent me to find ye." He rasped, his voice husky with the desire the kiss and her closeness evoked in him. Clearing his throat, he tried again for a more normal sound. "Are ye ready to join me in the hall for dinner, lass?"

  Kris' eyes snapped open, "what?"

  "We are ready to dine. I came to escort ye to the hall to eat."

  Kris blinked, startled. "Dinner? In the hall?"

  Iain nodded.

  "Um, yeah, sure." She looked at him a moment. "May I ask you a question?"

  "Aye."

  "May I ask what that kiss was all about?"

  "Aye."

  "Well?"

  "Well what?"

  Kris sighed, exasperated. "What was that kiss for?"

  Iain considered a moment, "I said ye may ask. I ne'er said I would answer." Iain bit the inside of his cheek to keep a smile suppressed when Kris growled at him. The lass was far too easy to goad and he found he enjoyed that about her. Besides, how could he tell her he hadn't the slightest notion what he'd been about when he'd kissed her? That it had been an impulse he'd been helpless to refuse? He cast a sidelong glance at her. She looked like she wished to do him bodily harm again. Before the idea could take full root in her head, howe'er, he took her arm in his. "Shall we?"

  Kris glared at him for a moment before she shrugged and preceded him out of the room.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kris stepped cautiously into the great hall, Iain right behind her, and looked around. The room was already full of people seated at the many tables set up for the afternoon meal.

  The hall grew quiet as many stopped talking or lowered their voices to whispers and turned to look at her. She glanced down self-consciously to make sure everything was in place and nothing showed that shouldn't.

  Iain guided her forward to the dais, though she would much rather have turned and fled back to the safety of her room. If not for Iain's hand resting gently at the small of her back, she would have done just that.

  Maybe she shouldn't have been quite so anxious to leave the sanctity of her room.

  She suddenly recalled her speech class in high school. She'd been so petrified about giving her speech that she'd only made it about half way through before she'd bolted from the class. She'd run all the way to the ladies room, thanking God it was only a short distance from the classroom. Once there, she'd lost the contents of her stomach.

  She'd been so humiliated by the experience, she'd almost dropped out of school completely. Lucas and Hailey had talked her out of such drastic measures. She had dropped her speech class though.

  She'd felt as if she were on display, all her secrets exposed, her heart lay bare before all. Those same feelings assaulted her now. Especially when, as Iain led her to the high table at this end of the hall even the low murmuring stopped and there was an absolute dead silence. Kris had never heard a silence so loud before. It fair deafened her.

  Iain's hand moved from her back to her elbow and tightened slightly, effectively stopping her from
turning on her heel and running as fast as her legs could carry her back up the stone stairs to her room.

  If she could somehow escape to the safety of her room, maybe she would bolt the door from the inside this time. And she wouldn't come out again unless she discovered a way to return to her own time. Not that that would be possible, but a girl could dream.

  Iain felt her tremble and wondered at the cause of it.

  "Iain, I don't think I can do this," Kris turned to whisper as a wave of apprehension and fear swept through her again. "Maybe I should…"

  Iain cut her off before she could finish. "Mayhap ye should just sit here and hush," he said, though not unkindly. He held out a chair for her, saw her seated comfortable, then sat beside her in the large, ornately carved chair.

  She looked around at all the people who stared at her and a wave of panic welled in her.

  Iain noticed Kris' hand shaking, and placed his large one over hers, giving her a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "Ye will be fine, lass. They willnae bite. They are just unused to seeing a Sassenach sitting at the lairds table." He smiled and winked at her. "Now, ye must needs relax or ye willnae be able to enjoy the meal, nor my fine company."

  "Humph," Kris said quietly, "you sure are bossy, aren't you?"

  Iain shrugged but before he could retort and goad her more, a noise to his left made him look in that direction. Kris looked as well. She noticed Iain's suppressed smile and heard the others in the hall give a quickly covered gasp. They all appeared shocked that Sorcha had entered and was making her way to the high table.

  Iain rose from his chair and strode over to meet his màthair, offering her his arm, he led her to her place at the laird's table.

  "Dinnae say a word, Iain, or I swear I shall find the stoutest cudgel I can and beat ye black and blue with it. I am here for Kristianna, to gi'e her support."

  Iain gave a slight nod of his head to acknowledge her words, but said nothing until she was seated.

  "Are ye comfortable, màthair?" Try as he might, he couldn't quite keep the smugness from his voice.

  She glanced at him sharply but made no reply. Instead, she turned her attention to Kris. "You look lovely in that gown, my dear." She smiled serenely.

  Iain's eyes narrowed in her direction.

  "Aye," Sorcha nodded, doing her best to ignore Iain's warning look, "much better than many another would, I can tell you."

  Kris almost choked on her wine. She knew without a doubt who Sorcha spoke of thanks to her chat with Elsie. She glanced at Iain, then looked away. His mouth had thinned into a grimace and he looked ready to do battle.

  The hall was still and silent as those gathered watched what happened on the dais with avid interest. Sorcha's appearance in the hall signified better than anything her acceptance of Kristianna. Iain knew it. He also knew what his màthair was up to. He realized too that he had stated his intentions clearly to his clan about Kristianna as well by seating her at his right.

  He raised a brow at Sorcha, started to tell her he knew what she was about, then thought better of it. He closed his mouth with a snap and turned to the hall at large.

  "Are we to eat sometime this day? Or are we to just sit here and stare at one another and pretend we ha'e eaten?"

  The hall erupted into a flurry of activity. Everyone began talking at once. Servants bustled from the kitchens to place large platters of food on the tables, while everyone else studiously pretended there was nothing amiss or out of the ordinary about a Sassenach lassie sitting at their lairds table in the seat usually reserved for the laird's wife or betrothed.

  Kris looked at the food before her, trying to decide what to have first. She was surprised to find she recognized much of what was placed on the table.

  Sorcha leaned close and whispered, "I have always loved to cook and I have personally trained the cook here. Some of the stuff that woman served when I first arrived," she shuddered, "you wouldn't have wanted to even look at it, let alone taste it."

  Kris smiled, feeling more at ease and relaxed now that everyone in the hall was not staring at her anymore. Their attention was focused more on Iain and Sorcha.

  "I'm certainly glad you did. Everything I've had thus far has been delicious and pretty much recognizable."

  "Ye should try the haggis, lass," Iain said, reaching for more. The man had already cleaned his plate.

  He ate faster than she'd seen even her brothers devour their food. She stared at him, amazed and shook her head.

  "You must have been starving."

  Iain looked from her to his plate and back again. "Why do ye say that?"

  "He has always eaten thusly, Kristianna." Sorcha cut in. "Look ye at Raibert's plate." She gestured to the man sitting on her left. "They have made it something of a contest between them. Who can finish their food the fastest. They have been doing the like since they were boys together."

  Iain grunted even as he continued to reload his plate.

  "I've seen it before. My brothers tend to do the same thing. It's like they're afraid they won't get their fair share or something, or they'll never eat again. They tend to grab the food and start shoveling it into their mouths before it's even cooled enough to taste." Kris popped a piece of bread into her mouth, pursed her lips, flapped her hand in front of her mouth while sucking in and blowing out short little breaths.

  "It's reawy goot." She spoke as if the food in her mouth was far too hot and she had a difficult time speaking while trying to cool it down in her mouth.

  Elsbeth and Sorcha burst out laughing. The other ladies in the hall chuckled and nodded. Kris swallowed her bread and joined in the laughter. At the men's identical looks of insult, the women in the hall laughed all the harder.

  "Aye, Kris. 'Tis exactly how they look." Sorcha wiped away tears of mirth. Leaning closer to Kris, she whispered, "it's nice to know men don't change much through the centuries, isn't it?"

  Kris nodded, but could not speak past the sudden lump in her throat.

  Sorcha patted her hand. "I didn't mean to bring up a painful subject, my dear."

  Kris shook her head, swallowed the lump with force, "it's alright. I'll get over it. I just can't believe I'm going to be stuck here forever. What will I do? I don't know how things go in this time. I don't have any skills that would help me. How am I supposed to survive?"

  Iain leaned over and whispered sternly, "'tis neither the time, nor the place to be discussing such matters." He nodded imperceptibly to the rest of the hall.

  "Aye," Raibert agreed with a pointed look at Kris.

  Before he could say more, however, Elsbeth swatted him on the back of his head. "Mind yer business, laddie," she warned.

  "'Tis my business, màthair," he grumbled.

  Elsbeth looked at Sorcha and Kris. Her eyes twinkled with mirth as Raibert rubbed the back of his head.

  "That's what I call a dope-slap." Sorcha smiled.

  Kris chuckled and everyone resumed eating.

  * * *

  After dinner, which to Kris was more like a very large lunch, she stood to one side of the hall and watched the activity. The food and dirty dishes were whisked away to the kitchens, the trestle tables, now cleared of debris, were put back up against the walls and the hall quickly cleared of people as everyone began to go about their business. They all seemed to have something to see to or somewhere else to be.

  Iain headed for the door, looking forward to a bit more training in the lists when Kris' hand on his arm stopped him.

  "Where are you going?"

  Momentarily startled and a bit unsettled from her touch, Iain stared at her. Not that he'd forgotten about her, 'twas only that he'd expected her to find something to do as most of the women usually did.

  "I must needs go train wi' my men."

  Kris crossed her arms over her chest, tilted her head to one side, and raised a single brow at him. "And just what am I supposed to do with myself while you're out training with your men?"

  Iain bit the inside of his cheek to keep fr
om grinning at her irritated stance. He shrugged a shoulder, "do whate'er it is ye women always do, lass. Tend to those womanly things we men doonae ha'e time for." He started to turn, but she stopped him again.

  "Womanly things?"

  "Aye," he said, turning back to meet her glare, "sew, clean, instruct the servants, do some mending." He waved a hand toward the stairs, "I dinnae ha'e any idea what it is ye women do when the men are nay about."

  Kris stared at him as if she couldn't quite comprehend what he said.

  "Well," she finally said, "I have a news flash for you, buster. I don't sew, I also haven't the foggiest idea how, or even what to clean in a castle, or what to direct the servants in doing because I've never had servants. They all seem to know how to do their jobs well enough without being told what to do anyway. And furthermore, just in case you'd forgotten, there is the tiny detail that I'm not from this century. Therefore, I have absolutely no clue as to what women 'usually do'."

  The look of surprise on Iain's face at her outburst, almost made her laugh. "Ye dinnae know how to sew?" He managed.

  "Not a stitch." She shook her head. She could crotchet and knit a bit, but sewing something and making it look anything like what it was supposed to was beyond her. Her grandmother had spent hours trying to teach her, to no avail. Everything she'd tried to put together had somehow come out lopsided, the tiny stitches uneven.

  "But what of those socks ye make? What of those other items ye showed me?"

  "That's crocheting, not sewing. Two totally different things and I've done enough of that for the time being that I'm getting thoroughly bored with it."

  Iain shook his head, "come then. I shall see ye back to your chambers where ye may rest."

  Kris pulled her hand out of his. "I'm sick of my chamber and I'm tired of resting. I've had more rest over the last few weeks than I've had in the past six months. If I rest another minute or have to stare at the walls of that bedroom for one more second, I'll go stir crazy. You'll find me sitting in a corner babbling like an idiot, completely witless, from lack of anything to do. I'm bored. I need to do something that will keep me busy."