She supposed it came from having a don't care màthair and an abusive father. Of course she'd had her siblings, but they'd never been what one would call close until they'd all gone to live with their grandparents when Kris was almost fourteen. That was when she'd met Hailey. The two had bonded, becoming instant friends. Kris insisted Hailey had saved her life, and her sanity.
She threw off thoughts of her past, stretched, and yawned. She was in Scotland! She had no time for depressing memories. After months of hard work, late nights and early mornings and just enough sleep in between to survive on, she'd managed to juggle her classes and her homework enough to work a few extra hours at her job and save enough money to come to Scotland.
Wrapping her arms around herself in excitement, she thought over what was to come in the next few months. She would stay in Scotland for a month to study its rich art-history and culture, sketch a few castles and the landscape, and maybe, if she was lucky, a handsome Highlander or two, then on to England and last finish her studies in Ireland before heading home.
With these thoughts racing through her head, and the haunting call of the pipes below, who could lie in bed daydreaming? Unable to contain herself, she threw back the covers, jumped from the bed and ran to the window.
A short distance from the castle she could see the town and a parade of men as they marched through the streets. Dressed in traditional Highland kilts, sporran's and tartans, each man also carried a battle ax as they progressed through the Glen. At the far end of the town, Kris could make out what looked like several dozen stages or platforms.
She clapped her hands like an overexcited child on Christmas morning, and turned from the window to ponder what to wear to her first festival of Highland games. A knock at the door stopped her midway to the closet next to the bath.
"Come in," she called, as she grabbed her robe from the end of the bed, pulled it on, and tied it shut just as the door opened. She looked up to see a lovely girl of about sixteen peek her head around the heavy oak door.
"Mornin', Miss."
"Good morning to you."
"I don't wish to be intrudin', but Granda thought you might like to dress for the games. He sent me with these." She held out two of the loveliest plaids Kris had ever seen. Kris recognized each design right away. One was a Campbell plaid, the other a MacGregor pattern. "He wasn't sure which you'd be preferrin' to wear. I'm to help you get dressed, if you wish."
"Oh my." Kris didn't hide her surprise, "I would be glad for any help you can give me." She gestured to the plaids. "I think I'd make more of a tangle of those than any kind of proper dress." She winked at the girl. "What's your name?"
"Maggie, Miss."
"I'm very pleased to meet you, Maggie. I'm Kris." She said and extended her hand,
"I can help you do your hair in the traditional way as well, Kris." Maggie smiled shyly.
"That would be wonderful. Now I just have to decide if I want to be a Campbell or a MacGregor. It's for certain can't be both, even if I technically am."
Maggie's brows drew together in confusion.
"You see, Maggie, my father is a Campbell, but my màthair was adopted by MacGregor's, so I'm both."
"Well, Miss, that's a fine dilemma, now isn't it?"
They both laughed. "It still leaves me with deciding which type plaid to wear." Kris tapped her chin. "Maggie, do you think you go find somebody to bring me a light breakfast while I hop in the shower? I'll have to think on whom I want to be today and a shower and some coffee will help clear my baffled brain."
Maggie giggled and nodded as she left the plaids on the bed and scurried out of the room.
Half an hour later, as Kris stepped out of the shower, there was a quick wrap on the door.
"Maggie?"
"Nope, try again." Hailey called out.
Kris came out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped tight in a towel.
"Good morning." She smiled brilliantly at her friend. "You're up bright and early."
"I had a feeling you might be in a bit of a predicament right about now," Hailey said with a gesture to the plaids on the bed. "Not sure who to be today?"
"You know me way too well, Hailey." Kris laughed.
"Yes," Hailey agreed with an over exaggerated look of smugness, "I do you know you very well." She grinned, "I also ran into Maggie in the Greathall. She said you were showering and then she was to help you dress."
With a laugh at Kris' disgruntled look, she held out a cup of coffee and a cinnamon scone. "Anyway, since you are legally Miss Campbell, I think you should go with the Campbell colors today. You can wear the MacGregor plaid tomorrow if you want."
"Good plan," Kris nodded in agreement. "How about you? What are you wearing today? Are you going to be conspicuous and wear English clothes, or are you going to try to blend in with the rest of us Highlanders?" She chuckled when Hailey stuck her tongue out at her.
"I'll wear the MacGregor plaid today." She winked at Kris. "Maybe I'll get to meet that handsome Highlander you've been mooning about for years."
"Huh!" Kris snorted, "no way. Not if I see him first you won't," she assured her friend. "Come on, help me get into this thing so we can get to town. I don't want to miss a single thing."
* * *
Kris stopped to examine a bolt of velvet at one of the stalls set up in the village of Kinloch Rannoch. She and Hailey had gotten separated almost an hour ago when Hailey had gone to look at some gifts for her parents and Kris had gone to listen to the pipers. Kris knew if she waited around these stalls with all the fabrics displayed, Hailey would wander by soon.
Fabric was one thing Hailey could never resist no matter how hard she tried. She was drawn to it. If there was fabric anywhere within a twenty-five mile radius of Hailey, she knew it. It was almost as if she smelled it or something.
Kris shook her head. Hailey would make a great fashion designer. Always coordinated and dressed comfortably but stylishly, Hailey was the consummate fashion plate. Whereas Kris would grab whatever was most handy from her dresser drawers, that being jeans and a comfortable t-shirt or sweatshirt, Hailey took her time with her wardrobe. Maybe that was one of the reasons men flocked to Hailey and tended to either not see Kris or, if they did notice her, they paid no attention to her.
She ignored the tug of melancholy that thought brought with it and turned her attention back to the stalls. She slowed near one of the jewelry stalls to scan the crowd again when a silver brooch caught her attention. Kris smiled at the old woman behind the stall and continued to browse.
"Might I help ye find something?" The woman asked, returning her smile.
"No, thank you." Kris shook her head. "I'm just looking. You have some very beautiful pieces."
"Thank ye, lady."
"How much is that brooch?" Kris gestured to an exquisite piece displayed prominently in front of some of the other brooches.
"Ahh, 'tis a verra lovely piece ye have chosen, lass," the old woman grinned with approval, giving Kris a fine view of her toothless mouth. "Ye have a good eye."
"I think my sister might like it."
"Ye must love your family a verra much to consider them whilst ye are on holiday. Mayhaps something for yer husband, as well?"
"I'm not married," she said, refusing to let her thoughts linger on that notion.
"Ahh, I see." The woman eyed her with speculation for a moment, as if searching for something. The intensity of her stare made Kris want to shift her feet. The woman studied her for a moment more, then "mayhaps ye would like this for yer sister, instead." She stooped down so far Kris thought she might topple over.
Kris made a grab to catch her, but the bent form straightened again. In her gnarled hand, she clutched an exquisite antique gold watch on a thin chain.
"How beautiful," Kris exclaimed. "This might be nice for my brother. It looks very old though."
"Aye, 'tis indeed verra old, m'lady. 'Tis said to ha'e belonged to the Laird himself, Iain MacGregor." The woman held the watch out to her.
Putting a hand on the stall to steady herself as the blackness closed in around her, she blinked several times, but it didn't help the dizziness or the intense feeling of déjà vu. She held her breath and looked around, waiting, hoping, anticipating. What she had no idea, but something was about to happen. She just knew it.
She looked up carefully, afraid yet excited about what she would see. The old woman, the stall, even the town, faded as Kris stared at Iain MacGregor. Only this Iain was no painting and he looked to real to be a dream. He looked around, an eyebrow raised, his customary scowl affixed firmly on his chiseled face. Then he caught sight of her and for the first time since she'd begun dreaming of him, he smiled. Her knees buckled and she almost went down.
Scowling he'd been handsome enough, but his smile almost knocked her flat. His eyes raked over her seductively and although her brain told her not to be ridiculous, her body responded to that look. He raised a hand and beckoned to her. And, God help her, she wanted to respond to that silent summons.
No! This was not even real. He was not even real. She was hallucinating again. Kris closed her eyes and shook her head. She opened her eyes again, certain it would have all disappeared. But it hadn't. Still he stood there, that seductive grin still in place. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she willed the image or mirage or whatever it was, to disappear. The watch! With a gasp, she released it, and opened her eyes again, not knowing what to expect, but hoping against hope. For what, she wasn't exactly sure. Would he still be there, or would he have vanished? She wasn't certain which one she really wanted.
Iain melted away, her vision cleared and she was again surrounded by the noises and sights of the fair. She let out her breath, relieved, yet at the same time saddened that he was gone. It was bad enough to see him in her dreams, but to see him when she was wide-awake? That was going a bit far.
"Are ye unwell, lass?"
"Pardon?" Kris asked, still trying to clear her head.
"Are ye ill? Ye look as white as a sheet and ye were just staring off into the distance. Did ye ha'e a vision then?"
"A vision?" Kris looked at her and furrowed her brow. How did this woman know? Had it been a vision? Did she even believe in such things? With a shake of her head, she concentrated on answering the woman with as normal a voice as possible. "No, no vision. I'm fine." She shook her head, telling herself too just breathe. "I should have eaten something more than a scone this morning, that's all." She gave the woman what she hoped was a confident smile but realized it came out a bit on the wobbly side.
The woman's brows rose a bit, but she said nothing more about it. Kris turned her attention back to the watch. She hesitated a moment before picking it up again to examine the intricate design. Looking around she gingerly touched a fingertip to it. A slight tremor passed over her, but she let out a sigh of relief when nothing else happened. Shivering a bit at the warmth of the timepiece, she ignored that as well and turned her attention to examining the watch.
The outside had the MacGregor crest etched into it, a lion's head with the top of the head erased and replaced with an antique crown. She turned it over, entwined flowers and vines covered the back of the case.
"'Tis said the timepiece has a charm attached to it, my lady."
"A charm? You mean a spell?"
"Aye."
"What kind of a spell?"
"'Tis said to be a spell of love, but 'tis unknown if 'tis true or false. 'Tis said it but waits for the proper person to discover its secrets."
"How interesting." She turned it over in her hand again.
"Mayhap ye will be the one to discover it, eh lass?" A slow smile crossed her face.
"You never know, although I think any spell attached to it would be better suited to someone else." Especially a spell of love.
"Mayhap," she shrugged, "and mayhap not." The woman cocked her head and gazed hard at Kris.
Kris looked down at the watch again to avoid that all too probing gaze and cleared her throat.
"How much is it?"
The woman quoted her a price, which Kris converted to US dollars. She hadn't planned to spend so much money on any single gift, but she was oddly compelled to purchase the watch.
"I'll take it." She said, before she thought better of it. She paid for her purchase, thanked the woman, and headed back to the Castle. She would meet Hailey there.
* * *
Kris kicked off her shoes and headed into the bathroom adjoining her bedroom. She gazed into the mirror above the pedestal sink and grimaced.
"You look awful."
Dark circles under her eyes attested too to many late nights and early mornings, not to mention the flight across the Atlantic and the ensuing jetlag. All these added together to make the freckles across the bridge of her nose more pronounced against her pale skin. She stuck her tongue out at herself, before turning away.
She stepped out of the bathroom and sat down on the bed. Tugging her long hair free from its ponytail, she pulled her notepad out of the bedside table drawer to check her notes from the old tome she'd found in Mr. MacGregor's library.
The manuscript she'd selected had, of course, been about the MacGregor clan and what they'd suffered during the time Iain MacGregor was Laird. History of The Clan Gregor: From Public Records and Private Collections had been written in 1898 and seemed to cover the time period of interest to her.
She hadn't wanted to get caught staring at Iain's portrait again, but she did want to know more about him. Maybe if she discovered more about him, he'd leave her alone. It was bad enough she had dreamed of the guy, but visions now?
She got hooked into the history of the clan, taking notes like crazy, compelled by something deep inside to find out all she could about the clan and its disappearing laird.
The MacGregor's were once one of the most feared and fiercest clans of Rannoch. Outlawed and forbidden to use their name, the clan moved into the Highlands. They harried the countryside for miles around, driving cattle into Rannoch from all parts, using the mists of the hills as cover. Hence they are known a Clann a' Ched or The Children of the Mist. During the proscription, they used the island Eilean nam Faoileag as one of their headquarters.
Kris made a note to go visit the island later in the week. She'd seen it earlier from the other side of the Castle. It was said that at one time in the past there had been a small prison on the crannog belonging to the Robertson's of Struan. She would capture Hailey and drag her off to the island. She'd love to sketch it and maybe get a tour of the inside. She turned the page in her notebook.
Nevertheless, they were conspicuous for their bravery, not only in local fights but also in the battles to support the Stuart cause.
The MacGregor's first took refuge in Rannoch in 1440, after Colin Campbell of Lachawe drove them out of their ancestral lands. Colin was quick to grab the land when John MacGregor died. In 1603, James the sixth decreed the name MacGregor to be illegal. Iain MacGregor was not one to take this lying down. Seeing no other alternative, he realized he could do nothing but take back his land by the sword. Though he was Laird for only a mere eight months, his exploits of daring are typical of the MacGregor spirit. There is not much else know about Iain MacGregor. He is thought to have been killed in battle or by an enemy of the clan. He disappeared sometime around the summer of 1604.
Well, that matched what Mr. MacGregor had told her earlier. Kris couldn't help but wonder what could have happened to Iain MacGregor. Did he ever find his lady? And if so, why hadn't he returned to the Castle?
She took a deep breath and closed her notepad. Enough for tonight. She took off her glasses setting them on the table and pulled a paper bag onto her lap. Settling back against three oversized, fluffy bed pillows propped behind
her, she dug the watch out of the bag.
She popped open the watch, surprised by the beautiful tune it played. As she listened, she turned it over and over in her hand, examining the intricate design. She noticed one of the points of the Lions' crown protruded ever so slightly above the others and rubbed her thumb over it, her fingernail catching a bit as she ran it over the spot.
The back of the watch sprung open, startling her. It didn't look like it should even have an opening there. No crease or crack showed when it was shut, as if it had been made of one piece.
Curiosity replaced her surprise. Kris squinted, tilting the watch to an angle to see what looked like tiny nicks etched in the gold.
Scrambling for her glasses, she slanted the watch this way and that to find the proper angle to bring the scratches into focus again. A magnifying glass would make it easier. She wondered if there might be one in the library. She didn't want to awaken anyone, though, so she made do with her glasses. If she held them just right instead of wearing them, she could just make out what looked like words.
"Tre a' ceòban a tumall agad bhitheas turus ma so sriut rán árd agad bruidhinn. Ma gràdhaich agad amais, dràsd tumall agad bheir gleídh."
"Um, okay, let's figure out what it means." She reached for her notepad and pencil. "Tre means through." She went through each word until she had them all on paper, as well as their meanings. Then she looked at what she transcribed.
"Through the mists of time, you shall journey, if these words out loud you speak. If love you find, this time, you will keep."
She shifted her eyes from what she had written to the watch and back again as another of those strange, but thrilling chills ran up her spine.
She shook off the feeling and stared at the watch. It was a beautiful sentiment, if unrealistic. Sure, Kris had read her share of time travel romances and had seen all the movies about it too, but nobody could travel through time. Besides, she was beginning to believe love was as much a fable as time travel. At least for her anyway.
She shrugged. The words went along well with what the old woman had told her about the watch being enchanted. With a soft chuckle, she wondered just how many other such watches that old woman made and how many people really fell for it. It was a good way to sell items, especially in Scotland, where the air itself felt charged with magic.
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