Cottage in the Mist

by Dee Davis

  For a moment the animal stood frozen, its gaze locked with Lily's and then, with a final chastising bleat, it was gone, the mist closing behind it like a tremulous gray curtain shimmering in the fog lights' beams.

  With a sharp release of breath, Lily forced herself to let go of her death grip on the steering wheel. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she wondered, not for the first time, what in the world had possessed her to think she was capable of driving on her own through the wilds of the Scottish Highlands.

  It was hard enough trying to remember that right was left and left was right on the steep curving roads without also having to deal with a startled ovine with a death wish. And to make it even worse, the mist had thickened to the point where nothing much was visible beyond the short swath of light cut by the headlights.

  The day had been blustery when she'd left Inverness, but the innkeeper there had assured her that she'd make the castle long before sundown. The term was obviously a euphemistic one because there had been no sign of anything remotely resembling sunlight all day. The only hint she had that evening was turning to night was the deepening shadows amidst the swirling mist.

  And there was no sign at all that she was nearing her destination. For all she knew she'd turned onto the wrong road.

  Still, it could be worse.

  She could be here with Justin.

  With a sigh, she laid her head on the steering wheel. How was she going to manage without her parents? It seemed on the surface a simple question when one considered the fact that they'd more or less left her alone most of her life. But that didn't mean they hadn't loved her. And when they had all been together it has always been wonderful.

  But now they were gone again.

  Forever.

  And she was driving alone in the middle of a Highland maelstrom.

  She smiled at the exaggeration. So maybe it was only a little fog.

  With a fortifying breath, she pressed her foot to the accelerator. Upward and onward and all that. Literally in this case, as the curving road wound its way up through the narrow valley.

  On her immediate left, Lily could just make out the mountains' craggy rocks jutting from between clumps of gorse and broom. On her right, she could see nothing but the swirling fog, but she knew that it cloaked a steep dropoff and was grateful for the protective strip of asphalt in between.

  She'd been right to listen to Valerie. Staying at home would have been a mistake. Watching people paw over her parents' belongings. She'd taken what she'd wanted and stored it in Val's garage. And the rest… well, maybe she'd wind up better off without it.

  They were only things, after all. She touched her ring finger, surprised not to find the heavy weight of her engagement ring. Old habits seemed impervious to the truth of the matter.

  She was better off without Justin. Even if she was all alone.

  In the middle of nowhere.

  She blew out a breath and slowed the car, staring out of the windshield. What if she'd made a wrong turn? What if she was truly lost? What if she managed somehow to drive herself right off the edge of a cliff?

  The practical side of her nature insisted that as long as she stayed to the left she'd be all right, and that the road had to lead somewhere eventually. Eventually being the operative word, of course. Then there was the fanciful side of her personality—the side that Justin had always discouraged. It was fully capable of imagining all kinds of less than optimal outcomes to her desperate attempt to escape the pain of her current situation and the inevitable rush of well-meaning pity that followed in its wake.

  Determination, fueled by anger, spurred Lily onward. There was nothing to be gained in wallowing. Better to seize the day—at least what was left of it. Things could actually be a lot worse. After all, she'd managed to miss the sheep.

  As if to squelch her budding optimism, the gray clouds rumbled and a spatter of rain hit the windshield.

  "Clearly this just isn't my day." Lily sighed, flipping on the windshield wipers as the skies opened in earnest and the rain pelted down on the little rental car. In all honesty, it wasn't her week or month or year either.

  And last night hadn't helped at all. She'd hardly had any sleep, and when she had slept, her mind had surrendered to strange dreams. The floating face of a man with ice-blue eyes and jet black hair. There had been danger, too. A fire. Angry men. Swords.

  She shook her head, clearing her mind of the memory. She'd woken covered in sweat, her heart pounding. But what had startled her the most was the fact that the fear hadn't been for herself. It had been for the man. The stranger with the crystalline eyes.

  Scotland had obviously taken its hold. Now she was dreaming of men in kilts.

  She smiled, thinking that perhaps Justin hadn't hurt her as badly as she'd imagined. Or maybe in truth it was her pride more than her heart. It was hard to know really. The enormous weight of her parents' death obliterated pretty much everything else.

  But even as she had the thought, she knew that more than anything her parents would want her to move on. To love them and to mourn them, but above all else to continue to live.

  The word echoed in her mind, and for a moment she almost felt as if she'd spoken it out loud. Meant it as an entreaty to someone else. Again her brain flashed the image of the man from her dream.

  Nightmare really. Some weird amalgamation of the events of the past few weeks.

  The mind had a way of playing tricks.

  She shuddered, pushing aside her rambling thoughts, instead peering out into the storm, looking for a sign, something to tell her she was on the right road. The dark and the mist had closed around her, making visibility of more than a few feet impossible. On the sides of the road, she could barely make out the shadows of the trees, gyrating in the wind.

  A darkened outline of a hedgerow on the right indicated that at least she'd made it past the cliffs in one piece. She glanced at her purse, wishing again that she'd thought to update her cell plan for coverage in Scotland. But the trip had been too rushed, and besides, who would she have called anyway?

  In truth, she doubted this remote valley ran to cell coverage at all. The inn that Valerie's friend ran was actually a castle, or tower as the Scottish called them. It had been built sometime in the early fifteenth century. A fortress that rested at the top of a rise just over the River Findhorn. Assuming she was on the correct road, the river ought to be off to her left somewhere, following the line of the road.

  Eventually, according to the instructions she'd downloaded from their website, she should be crossing the river, and once on the other side, she'd begin the climb up to Duncreag.

  The rain spattered against the windshield, the wind howling as it buffeted the little car. Lily tightened her hands on the steering wheel as she frowned out into the downpour, trying to see a light or some other sign of humanity.

  Sadly, there was no sign of civilization save for the ancient hedgerow and the rutted road. But there had been sheep. So surely that meant human inhabitants as well. Inhabitants from her century preferably. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that this valley had changed little since the tower had first been built. That there were secrets here.

  The last thought seemed to pop up out of nowhere, and she shook her head at her addled musings. Clearly the rain and the mist were getting to her. She pushed the pedal down, and the car groaned but obligingly increased speed.

  Just a little bit farther. She had to be close now. The road ahead shone in the pale wash from the headlights, and she concentrated on staying to the left. Not that she'd passed a car all day. Not since she'd turned off of the main highway. She was well and truly alone out here.

  A shiver traced its way down her spine, and she swallowed, forcing a smile. She turned the dial on the radio, but there was nothing but static. She reached to push a button to try and find another station, but before her hand touched the panel, the road ahead suddenly turned to the left.

  Jerking the wheel, she felt the little car swerve, but the t
ires gained traction and the car moved safely through the turn. But before she could congratulate herself, she looked out to see the river suddenly rising before her. Swollen over its banks, it had either washed away the bridge, or swallowed it.

  Lily slammed on the breaks, but this time the little car refused to cooperate. The wheels spun and the car shimmied sharply to the left, the rushing river looming through the windshield.

  Wouldn't it be ironic if she'd run away from her parents' death only to careen into her own?

  Calm rationality pushed through her hysteria, and Lily turned the wheel to the right, away from the river, as hard as she could. The car was sluggish, but it responded, whipping away from the road and the river, roaring through the brush and slamming into something hard.

  Lily jerked forward, her head colliding with the steering wheel. And then there was nothing but the sound of the rain as it pattered against the roof.

  *****

  Someone was banging a pot or a pan and the sound was driving her crazy. Lily forced her eyes open, trying to remember where she was. For a moment fear crested, and then she remembered. The car. The river. The rain.

  She pushed her hair out of her eyes, surprised to find something sticky. She pulled her fingers away, and recognized blood. Her blood. Clearly she'd hit her head. Feeling gingerly along her scalp line, she found a gash. Surrounding it was a growing knot, but despite the amount of blood, she didn't think it was life threatening.

  She rolled her shoulders and checked her arms and legs. Nothing broken. Except the car. Though the motor had died, the windshield wipers were still going strong. And the "pot" she'd heard was a tree branch banging against the roof of the car in the wind from the storm. The trunk of said tree was planted, literally, directly in front of her, the front end of the car crumpled against it.

  She tried the key, but the motor coughed and died. Without the headlights, the night had closed completely around her, the mist swirling past the side windows like a living creature.

  She tried the ignition again, but there was nothing, the car's engine apparently too damaged to start. Which left her feeling grateful on the one hand—it had been a close call with the river—and terrified on the other. She was out in the middle of nowhere, without any means of communication, and the river was blocking all access to Duncreag.

  Great.

  She blew out a breath and considered her options.

  She wasn't exactly dressed for a rainstorm. Her peasant blouse and long cotton skirt were holiday frivolity. A mistake for early spring in the Highlands. Jeans and boots would have suited her better.

  Her suitcase was in the trunk. And while she didn't exactly have hiking gear, she did have warmer clothing. But she'd get soaked trying to get them. The sane option would be to stay in the car until morning. They'd been expecting her. So someone was bound to come looking. Except of course that they couldn't cross the river.

  The wind shook the tree, and the branch beat harder against the roof.

  Lily fought to contain a shiver of fear. There was nothing out there but a little wind and an aggravated tree. But even with that thought, the idea of staying in the car had lost its appeal.

  She bit her lip, trying to figure out what her best of course of action might be, as she leaned forward to peer out of the windshield. She could see the hood of the car and the battered tree, and then just beyond that what looked to be a second, smaller tree. The mist looked ghostly as it twined among the leaves.

  Fine mess she'd landed herself in.

  She tried the ignition again just for the hell of it. But, as before, it refused to even turn over. The cold had become penetrating and her head was pounding. Instinct pushed her to curl up and sleep. Just forget about all of this until morning.

  But the knot on her head reminded her that there could be a concussion and sleep wasn't the answer. At least not while she was on her own. Tears threatened, but as she angrily brushed them away, something beyond the two trees caught her attention.

  She stared for a moment, waiting to see if it was a trick of the mist. But no, she blinked once, then again and it was still there. A small light, beckoning through the storm.

  There were people here.

  People who could help.

  She tried to open the door, but it was jammed somehow, so after loosening her seatbelt, she slid across the front seat and opened the passenger door. The rain whipped into the car, soaking her to the skin. Grimacing, she pushed open the door and got out, holding on to the car to keep her balance in the wind.

  With a quick fortifying breath, she struck out for the light, stumbling in the mud and brush as she made her way. The rain battered her skin, the wind whipping her hair across her eyes. The air was icy cold, the storm only making it worse. Her clothes were soaked through in an instant. And each step took more and more effort, the light stubbornly staying just out of reach.

  Thunder crashed, and a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky for an instant. With a sigh of relief she recognized the outline of a stone cottage. Its windows flickered from the firelight within, a thin trail of smoke winding up from the chimney.

  Just a few steps more. Water ran in rivulets down her neck and back, her long hair a sodden mess. Her skirt trailed behind her, dragging in the mud, and she again cursed the foolishness of her stylish summer outfit.

  This was the Highlands.

  Lightning flashed. She stumbled up the front steps and with the last of her energy pounded on the door. But no one answered. She knocked again, as the storm continued to buffet her. Finally, in desperation, she tried the handle, and the door opened into the warmth within.

  For a moment, she hesitated on the threshold. But the thunder rolled again, the rain beating upon her shoulders. This was no time for niceties. She was soaked to the skin and her head was throbbing.

  She stepped inside, the wind slamming the door behind her.

  She called out. But there was no answer. Shaking from the cold and wet, she moved across the room toward the fireplace and the warmth of the fire burning cheerfully there. She held out her hands, her fingers trembling, struggling to stay upright, to stay focused on the fire. But her body had begun to shudder and her teeth were chattering. She was so damn cold.

  "And where in God's name did you come from?"

  She heard the voice and turned toward the sound. The man in the doorway was tall, rugged and devastatingly handsome. And oddly, he was familiar somehow. The dark hair. The icy blue eyes. She knew him, didn't she?

  "I asked you a question, lass." His gaze raked down her body, taking in the wet clothes and sodden shoes.

  She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "The river," she managed, her voice less than a whisper. "There was an accident." She took a step toward him, but stumbled. Warm hands closed around her upper arms. Her eyes slid shut as she reveled in the blessed heat from his touch.

  "Ach, you're freezing." His voice caressed her ear as his hands slid up and down her arms. "Are there more of you out there then? Should I go to them?"

  She was so cold her teeth were chattering, but she struggled to find her voice. "No." She shook her head so hard her bones rattled, her mind tumbling, past and present all mixed together as one. "There's no one. Not anymore. They're all gone." She paused, looking up into the crystalline blue of his eyes, her fingers gripping his shirt. "Promise… promise you won't leave me, too."

  "I promise," he said, his gaze clear and steady, his hands warm against her skin as he stroked her arms. "I'm no' going to leave you. I just need to get you warm."

  She nodded, the gesture almost lost as a series of shudders wracked through her body. The room started to whirl.

  "Come on then, lass, stay with me," he urged, his eyes filled with concern, his grip tightening on her arms. "Tell me your name."

  She opened her mouth to answer his question, but words wouldn't come. And to be honest, she couldn't remember what he'd asked her anyway, and then everything started to go dark. Like slipping into the velvety soft
ness of a blanket.

  Her name, she remembered as she struggled to hold onto consciousness. That's what he'd asked her.

  "Lily," she whispered as the darkness swallowed her whole.

  CHAPTER 4

  BRAM CAUGHT THE LASS as she fell, wondering where in God's name she had come from. He had no doubt that his enemies would stoop to any level to catch him off guard, even sending a woman to do their dirty work.

  But this woman, Lily, was soaked to the bone and a knot high on her forehead was already purpling from what looked to be a pretty substantial blow. He felt along her hairline and located a deep cut. That accounted for the bleeding. But it seemed to have stopped and for the moment he had bigger problems.

  She was shaking violently, her body almost spasming as her muscles contracted. He'd seen this before. Exposure to this kind of cold, wearing nothing but what looked to be her shift, was dangerous. He could only suppose what kinds of hell she'd been through to arrive at the cottage in such a condition. An accident, she'd said.

  She was wearing next to nothing and her slippers, though made of fine leather, were hardly adequate for traveling in the rough terrain that surrounded Duncreag, especially in the midst of a storm like this one. 'Twas possible she lived or worked at the tower. But her hands were soft and her skin unmarred. And the silver bracelet she wore on her arm had been made by the finest of craftsmen.

  Nay, despite her state of undress, this was not a peasant. This was a lady. And not one from around here, if he were to have to place a wager on it. He touched the base of her throat with one finger, satisfied to feel the rush of her blood. She lived, but if he didn't get her dry and warm, there was still a chance her condition could turn for the worst. He'd seen people die from exposure in a storm like this.

  As if to echo his concern, she moaned and another shudder ripped through her. It was important to get her warm as quickly as possible. He glanced around the cottage. While it was well enough equipped, it was not built for warmth and even with the fire burning, the small room was still cold.