Laird of the Mist

by Foery MacDonell

Ian grabbed her wrist, keeping her at bay and held the iPod behind him. ―Nay, Olivia. Not until ye explain what this is. Calm down, lass. Sit down and tell me. I willna tell yer grandda, I promise ye.‖

  Having no choice but to do as he said, Olivia sat back down beside him and heaved a sigh in resignation.

  ―All right, Ian,‖ she began, dropping her accent. ―But you won‘t believe me. Damn!‖

  ―Mayhap I will. Ye don‘t ken that until I hear the truth.‖ He smiled at her as the song ended and the iPod went silent. Ian brought it from behind his back and examined it closely. ―Where does the music come from? How does it work? Where did ye get it?‖

  ―Okay, Ian.‖ Olivia took a deep breath and looked him square in the eye. ―I‘m from the future,‖ she began in earnest. ―I‘m from 2010, and that is called an iPod. You put your music on it so you can listen to it whenever you like.‖

  ―From the future ye say? 2010?‖ Ian laughed at her. ―Are ye mad, Olivia? Have ye a fever or summat?‖He reached his hand to her forehead to check.

  ―No, Ian. Just listen. You said you wanted the truth, so listen.‖

  ―Right then. Go on.‖ Ian sat back against the bench and folded his arms, iPod tightly clenched in his fist. ―Tell me.‖

  Olivia went on for some time, telling Ian all that had happened and what led up to this point.

  Ian sat quietly throughout the telling, making faces at certain parts of the tale, leaning forward in intense concentration at others. When she finished, Olivia sat back and waited for his judgment.

  ―Well?‖ she said at last. The silence was disturbing.

  ―Isuppose it could be true,‖ Ian said slowly. ―Moragtrulysent Carrick through time to find Jennyand bring her home? Amazing. Who wouldha thought?‖ He relaxed a little, seemingto accept all that she had told him.

  ―Aye, Ian.‖ Olivia placed her hand on his. ―I wouldna lie about it. It‘s been a verra difficult time for us all. And ye must keep this knowledge between us. I beg ye.‖

  ―Oh,aye, I will,‖ he promised emphatically. ―But I will talk with Morag, if ye dinna mind. Just to be certain, aye?‖

  ―Fine,‖ Olivia spat. ―Ye willna believe me until ye do, so go ahead. Can I have my iPod back now, please?‖

  ―Well…‖ Ian smiled devilishly. ―Ye can,if ye play some more tunes for me.‖

  Laughing, Olivia took the iPod and turned it on. ―Want to hear the Beatles?‖ she asked.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Despite the awful incident with Mary and Dougal, and the burning of their croft, the trip to Inverness had been successful. No one had recognized Carrick as they went about their business, at least not openly.

  They remained in town only long enough to purchase what they needed and from merchants whom he trusted. Working in haste, they managed to leave within a few hours and head back the way they had come.

  They arrived at the Invergarry Inn without incident and, feeling a sense of relief and relative comfort, were able to enjoy a hot meal and welcome by Carrick‘s friend and the Inn‘s owner, John Anderson.

  ―The lobsterbacks havena returned, Laird,‖ John told him as he joined them for a pint over a savory beef pie. ―We set a watch all over the glen for them. Some of the crofter‘s bairns are runners to alert the folk should they return.‖

  ―Do they ken I‘m alive?‘ Carrick asked between bites. ―Camden is vicious and will cause suffering to all should he think ye hide me.‖

  ―Aye,‖ John answered with a pull on his ale. ―Everyone kens it. But they‘re loyal to ye, Carrick, and willna breathea word of yer presence. Ye‘ve done good for yer people and they dinna forget it. No need to worry on that, I assure ye. Ye must excuse me...‖ He stood at the sound of an arrivingcoach outside. ―It seems we have a guest.‖

  He gave a slight bow to Cat, who nodded in response as John turned toward the door at the end of the room.

  As he reached for the door, a force threw it open from the other side, and a woman in expensive finery blew through with an air of importance. John stepped back quickly in astonishment

  Carrick dropped his fork at the sight of her and cursed.

  ―Fiona! Hell‘s teeth!‖

  ―Who is it?‖ Cat leaned over to whisper.

  ―Yer bloody, fukitmother!‖

  Cat blanched at his use of the profanity. She had never heard Carrick utter that particular word, and it shocked something deep within her.

  She felt nausea rising and her head began to spin wildly. Vivid memories of this hateful woman washedover her like a bucket of ice. She suddenly couldn‘t draw a breath and gripped the table to right herself before she fainted.

  ―Well, look who‘s here.‖ The garishly attired and painted woman sauntered to their table and glared at Cat. ―If it isn‘t the Laird and Lady themselves. A bit dirty and ragged for such high positions, aren‘t you?‖ She spat the venomous words at them. ―Have the mighty fallen on such hard times? You Jacobites got what you deserved, I say. Get me a chair, Carrick,‖ she commanded. ―Try being a gentleman for once in your life.‖

  ―Get it yerself, ye cursed cow,‖ he refused, and picked up his fork to resume eating. ―Ye‘re no welcome here, yebuidseach.”

  ―Now, Carrick,‖ she said sweetly as she pulled up a chair and sat. ―Is that any way to speak to a lady? And if you are going to call me a witch, you could at least not use that vulgar Gaelic. And after I worked so very hard to rid myself of that filthy Highland accent. Besides…‖ She let out a sigh, ―French or English are so much less common.‖

  ―The only lady in this room is my wife.‖ He laid down his fork and glared at her in disgust. ―And in any language, yeare common and still a witch and worse.‖

  The flamed-haired Fiona threw back her head and laughed—a throaty cacophony that resounded to the rafters. Despite her forty-five years, she was still a beauty, the only good thing she had passed on to her daughters.

  ―You always did have a sense of humor, Carrick.‖ She leaned over and patted Cat, who had been silent. ―And mydarling daughter. Not pregnant yet, are you? Either you‘re barren or, can it be? Yourhusband doesn‘t enjoy the company of women?‖

  Cat began to rise infury, but Carrick grabbed her arm to stop her. ―Nay, Cat.‖ He pulled her down to sit. His eyes said leave it be, so she kept her peace and looked at her plate.

  ―What do ye want, Fiona?‖ Carrick said calmly, not wishing to fuel the woman. ―Why have ye come hereafter all these years away? Did the Frenchman tire of yer poison?‖

  ―He‘s dead,‖ she said nonchalantly, settling back intoher chair. ―A year now,‖ she continued, removing her gloves a finger at a time. ―The ungrateful pig barely left me a stipend. About the same time dearest William died, making me a widow.‖ She looked at Cat as she referred to her late father, Fiona‘s abandoned husband. She reached out a hand to Cat in mock sympathy. ―I came as soon as I heard, dear.‖

  Cat turned her head away in refusal and said nothing. She fervently groped for memories of her father‘s death and, once retrieved, tears sprang as though hearing of it for the first time.

  She recalled how much she had loved Laird William—what a wonderful, doting father he had been. She also vividly remembered the torment and insufferable pain Fiona‘s leaving had caused him. William had been broken for years after, and was never able to love another woman.

  He had allowed Hamish to take the younger Olivia with him to Edinburgh, to educate her and raise her away from the scandal. That, too, had broken his heart.

  William‘s onlytrue companion at his death had been Cat who, even though married, continued to care for him. Her marriage had been one of the few consolations of her father‘s life. She kept her face turned to the wall so as not to encourage more of Fiona‘s malice.

  ―Why do ye come now when Laird William died well over a year ago, Fiona?‖ Carrick was fighting the ire rising in him, but he had to know.―There is nothing for ye here. And William‘s estate went to Cat. Ye should go back to the hole ye crawled out fro
m.‖

  ―Cat,is it now?‖ She looked at Cat with a wry smile. ―Using your middle name, eh? Well, why not? I went by Lorraine in France. More sophisticated than the Fiona my da hung on me. How is the old turd, anyway? I heard he lives with you now, along with that changeling child I birthed.‖

  ―Leave her be, Fiona.‖ Carrick‘s voice was a low, threatening growl. ―Can ye no see the lass is distressed by yer appearance? Must ye do her to death as ye did William, and most likely yer Vicomte as well? Must we murder all yeken?‖

  ―I take it by your non-response that the old bastard is well.‖ She ignored his insult and rose to leave. ―Well, I shall see soon enough. I sent word to Beinn Fhithich of my arrival. And we‘ll just see who owns what. I am William‘s widow, after all. The prick never would give me a divorce so I could marry the Vicomte,‖ she said with a menacing gleam in her eye. ―The English are not well-disposed toward handing over estates to Jacobites these days. I will see you at Beinn Fhithich. Till then…‖ She gathered her heavysilk skirts and, with nose held high, strode aristocratically out of the Inn.

  ―She just threatened to turn you over to the English!‖ Cat exclaimed in alarm the moment the woman was gone. ―What are we going to do, Carrick? Oh,my God!‖

  ―Fiona has always been full of bluster,‖ he assured her as if it was not important. ―My guess is that she‘s bluffing. Bullies usually do,and she doesn‘t really want all that land or the house. She just wants money. Ye pay her off and she‘ll slink away.‖

  ―I hope yer right. But what about grandda and Olivia?‖ She stiffened, suddenly remembering Fiona‘s reference to Hamish. ―They don‘t even know who she is! We‘d better get on to Beinn Fhithich and warn them…‖

  ―Well, who wouldha kent Fiona MacHendriewould ever show her face here again?‖ John said as he returned to the room. ―I just gave her lodgings for the night. She willna spread trouble at Beinn Fhithich for a day, at least.‖

  ―Thank ye, John.‖ Carrick stood and extendeda hand to Cat. ―We‘ll be on our way,then,‖ he said, handing John payment for their meal. ―Fine hospitality, as always.‖

  ―A pleasure, Laird,‖ John answered as Carrick led Cat out to their tethered horses, fresh and ready to ride. He helped Cat mount, and they began the climb up the glen to home.

  ―Carrick?‖ Cat broke the silence. ―What about grandda and Olivia?‖

  Carrick was hesitant to share his thoughts on the matter. He was fearful that Cat would think he had lost his mind.

  ―Well…‖ he began. ―Do ye recall when I first told ye the story of Fiona? I told ye I thought it possible yer grandda and Olivia were reincarnated, too?‖

  ―Aye, I recall,‖ Cat answered slowly.

  ―I do think it possible, Cat.‖ He pulled Breamus to a halt and looked at her squarely, compassion in his eyes. ―I didna tell ye. I didna want to cause ye pain until I was forced to. But it is time ye kent it.‖ He steeled himself for her coming emotions. ―Before we traveled here, yer grandda and I made inquiries. We discovered that Jenny‘s – yer– sister and grandda, died in Edinburgh over a year ago. We dinna ken how, just that they did.‖

  Wrenching grief filled Cat as memories of her sister and grandda in this time surfaced. ―Oh,no!‖ she cried out, sobs seizing her and tears beginning to pour.

  ―I‘m so sorry.‖ Carrick dismounted and came to her, reaching his arms up to lift her down into them. Envelopingher closely, he whispered into her hair, ―I‘m so sorry, Cat. I‘m so verra sorry.‖

  He held her for a long time, letting her spill her grief into his chest until she could cry no more. Slowly, she gathered herself and pulled away from him. Looking up into his worried face she said, ―You really do believe they are the same souls?‖ She wiped her face with the edge of her shawl. ―But that would mean...‖ she sniffled, trying to digest the idea and think it through.

  ―It would mean they arena dead. They are here with us now, and we must protect them from Fiona.‖

  ―But they dinna recall any past lifetimes,‖ she gently argued.

  ―They may well do when Fiona arrives at the house,‖ he answered ominously. ―And I‘ve a notion it willna be a pleasant recollection. Let‘s on to home,‖ he said, lifting her back onto Solas. ―And let‘s make haste at that, aye?‖

  ―Aye,‖ Cat agreed, resolute to prevent the evil that was Fiona from doing further damage.

  ―We‘re glad yer back in one piece .‖ Hamish clasped Carrick heartily on the shoulder. ―No too bad a trip, I trust? Mary Anderson and Dougal arrived a few days back. Molly gave them one of the cottages yonder, and put Mary to work in the kitchen. A fine cook, she is. And young Dougal has a way with the cattle. Geordie saw to him.‖ Hamish shook his head as he updated Carrick on the family. ―Nasty business, that,‖ he said in disgust.

  ―Aye, Hamish,‖ Carrick replied .―Thank ye for yer kind help in it. We‘ll be seeing to what we can do about the husband, aye?‖

  ―Aye,‖ Hamish agreed as the two went off into the parlor to discuss what must be done.

  ―I‘m off to find Olivia,‖ Cat said from behind them as she hurried toward the garden, leaving the men to talk of the business.

  ―‘Twas good of ye to take the familyin,‖Hamish commented, sittingin the chair hehad come to think of as his.

  ―Ye wouldha done the same, Hamish. Ye canna leave them to suffer so,‖ he answered. ―I did what I could for the list ye gave me. The goods areto be delivered by end of the week next.‖ Carrick was debating how to bring up the subject of Fiona. ―I do have a thing to say to ye, Hamish…‖

  ―Carrick!‘ Cat exclaimed as she entered the parlor, clearly agitated. ―Ye are no going to believe what the wee sprite has done now. Ye too, grandda.‖

  Olivia stood behind her sister looking shamed and nervous. Ian appeared puzzled at all the fuss, and made his way to the sofa where he sat and laid the crutches on the floor beside him.

  ―Well, what have ye done, elf?‖ Hamish asked Olivia gently, not wishing to condemn her before hearing it out.

  Olivia stood silently, her gaze fixed on the floor. Guilt poured from her and filled the room.

  ―Since Olivia won‘t deign to tell ye, I will,‖ Cat began. ―I was in the kitchen where Ian was sitting, and overhead him humming a verra familiar tune. Ye do ken I Want to Hold Yer Hand, the Beatles song, do ye no?‖

  ―Aye…‖ Hamish answered cautiously..

  ―Wheredo ye think Ian heard that tune, grandda?‖ Cat put her hands on her hi ps in distinct displeasure. ―Our Olivia brought her iPod with her! Can ye believe it? Did ye no ban the bringing of modern items?‖

  Hamish nodded, carefully thinking it over. ―I did,‖ he said at last. ―Olivia,‖ he rose and began to pace the room. ―What have ye done, lass? I told ye the reasons for it, and ye did it despite me. What were ye thinking?‖

  Slowly,Olivia raised her head to meet her grandda‘s disappointed eyes. ―I wasna thinking, grandda. I suppose I onlywanted to have my music with me. I‘m so sorry. But it did no harm, really,‖ she argued. ―Ian promised not to tell anyone about it. And he so enjoyed it, didn‘t ye, Ian?‖

  Ian shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ―Oh, aye, indeed,‖ he agreed readily. ―I did swear not to tell, Hamish. I won‘t tell—ever. The music is unlike anything I ever heard and—‖

  ―There‘s a reasonit‘s unlike anything ye ever head, brother,‖ Carrick broke in firmly. ―‘Tis no from our time, ye ken? If anyone kent about this, Olivia could be accused of magic. Ye do realize it, do ye no?‖

  ―No!‖ Ian protested, realization dawning. ―I didna think of it. Truly, Carrick, I willna say a word to a soul!‖

  ―And ye, elf?‖ Hamish asked Olivia, who was now standing next to Ian in a sort of unified front. ―Ye ken the history here.‖

  ―Oh, aye, grandda.‖ She nodded vigorously. ―I ken it. No to anyone, I swear.‖

  ―Do ye have anything else we should ken, Olivia?‖ Cat asked, waiting apprehensively for the answer.

  ―No!‖ Olivi
a said staunchly. ―Only what ye ken about. The lighters and the flashlight. That‘s all. I swear!‖

  ―What are those?‖ Ian asked, interested in what other gadgets she had brought from the future. ―May I see them?‖

  Hamish sighed in resignation. ―Aye, ye may. In private,‖ he emphasized. ―Then hide them away, Olivia. Ye put yerself and us all in danger should they be found.‖

  Uh—well—there is one last little thing.‖ Olivia went pink again. ―My ghillies.‖

  Hamish took a long, patientbreath, and exhaled it slowly. ―Yer ghillies, Olivia? Whyin heaven would ye bring yer dancing shoes? Ye ken ladies dinna Highland dance here.‖

  ―Aye, grandda, I ken.‖ Olivia lifted her chin to defend herself. ―But ye ken how I love to dance, and I plan to compete when we go home...‖

  ―Go home?‖Cat asked incredulously. ―Are ye mad? Can ye no see where ye are? ‗Tis noa holidaywe are on. How do ye think we will go home?‖

  ―I just thought that maybe we would find a way…somehow,‖ Olivia sputtered with the realization that their situation could be permanent. ―I thought perhaps Morag could…‖

  ―Morag told ye herself she has no the power any longer,‖ Hamish reminded her. ―Nay, lass. This is home now. Ye must get used to it, aye?‖

  Olivia‘s eyes began to mist as she tried to smile at Hamish. ―Aye, grandda. Okay.‖

  ―Okay?‖ Ian repeated in question. ―What does okaymean?‖

  ―I‘ll tell ye later,‖ Olivia murmured to him, recovering her emotions.

  ―Hide it all away, sprite. Please,‖ Hamish implored her a final time.

  Cat sighed at Hamish‘s verdict. ―Grandda, ye ken how she is ,‖ she protested. ―Ye ken she willna be able to help herself…‖

  ―Nay, Caitriona,‖ Hamish answered,takingher hand and leadingher to the door. ―We will trust her to keep herword this once.‖ He motioned to Olivia to join them. ―Come along, sprite. Let‘s find a safe place for yer things and appease yer sister, aye?‖

  ―Aye,grandda.‖ Olivia gave Ian a shrug and followed them out of the parlor.

  ―Right,then,‖ Carrick said to his brother. ―With all of this, Ihadna chance to sayhow good it is to see ye walking about.‖