Laird of the Mist

by Foery MacDonell

  Without warning, Ian‘s hand gripped her wrist, and his eyes opened to assess her. ―Who are ye?‖ he rasped.―What are ye doing?‖

  Struck dumb, Olivia stared back at the yellow eyes piercing her in suspicion. As quickly as they had opened, they shut again and grimaced with a great groan. Ian released her arm and put both his hands to his face.―Christ‘s blood,‖ he swore.―God help me.‖

  ― Here, drink this.‖ Olivia lept to his side with the laudanum Hamish had found in the panty‘s medical supplies. He had left it should Ian awake and need it.―It will help the pain, I promise,‖ she assured him, as she lifted his head to help him.―It‘ll be better in a minute.‖

  Ian drank it down without argument. Sinking back into the pillow, he examined her critically. ―Have ye poisoned me, lass?‖ His eyes were gleaming with wariness.

  ―No!‖ Olivia cried, kneeling on the floor beside him.―Why would I do that? It‘s only laudanum and

  besides, I have been sitting here with you all night. You ‘ve been through a really bad time.‖ ―Aye, I can feel it.‖ He grimaced again and shifted his body on the sofa.―Who in creation are ye, and

  why are ye here?‖

  ―I‘m Cat - er- Jenny‘s sister.‖ She caught herself quickly.―My name is Olivia and I‘m taking care of

  you just now.‖

  ―Olivia? Hmpf.‖ He still didn‘t trust her. Suddenly remembering, he tried to rise.―And where is

  Jenny? Damnation!‖ He lay back down in pain.

  ―I think you‘d better just stay still for a while.‖ Olivia pulled the blanket farther up around him.―And

  Jenny‘s fine. She‘s upstairs in bed with Carrick.‖

  ―Carrick is home?‖ Ian‘s eyes were tightly shut now, but news of Carrick made his face glow.―Is he

  truly come home?‖

  ―Yes, Ian.‖ Olivia touched his hair again. She couldn‘t help herself. He brought such tender feelings

  out of her.―He really is. He arrived here earlier tonight along with me and my grandda.‖ ―Your grandda is here as well? I thought ye were in Edinburgh long past. I barely remember the two

  of ye.‖

  ―Uh - yeah - we were,‖ Olivia stuttered, trying to recall their story—trying to recall Ian. After all,

  Carrick suspected she was the reincarnation of Jenny‘s lost sister. But no memories sprang forth. ―Grandda is a doctor and he stitched you up,‖ she went on.―He gave you some injections and - oh

  shit!‖ Olivia let the words slip out before she realized it. She was an idiot, she reprimanded herself. She had to

  be more careful.

  ―Do they speak that way in Edinburgh now?‖ Ian asked, looking at her through half-closed eyes.

  ―Lassies are allowed to curse? And what‘s an in-jec-tion?‖ he asked.

  ―No, lassies are no allowed to curse.‖ Olivia did her best to recover her Highland accent.―I shouldna

  ha‘ said it.‗Twas wrong of me. I‘m sorry,‖ she said, reaching for his hand that draped the edge of the sofa.

  ―Dinna fash, Ian. All is well.‖

  ―Olivia. I like the sound of it.‖ Ian was sinking from the laudanum.―Olivia?‖ He squeezed her hand. ―Aye, Ian? What is it?‖ She squeezed back. Her soul thrilled with knowing he would live. ―I dinna care who ye truly are, be ye faery or real,‖ he murmured. ―Dinna go away, aye? Ye are the

  most beautiful lass I ha‘ ever seen.‖ He smiled as he faded back into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  ―T he grave is ready,‖ Carrick said, closing the doors to the dining room behind him.―Do ye need help?‖ he asked Morag and Molly, who were busy washing Anne‘s body on the table. He had gone to the shelter at sunrise and brought the women home.―I can ask Cat to come,‖ he said, forgetting to call her Jenny.

  ― Nay.‖ Molly smiled at him.―No, I wouldna‘ ask her after all she has seen. Leave her be. We can manage.‖

  ―Aye, then. I‘ll just be...‖

  ―Here, Molly.‖ The doors opened and Cat stepped in carrying what appeared to be sheets. ―I found them just where ye said.‖ She put the bundle on the sideboard and stepped closer to the table.―May I help ye?‖

  ―Nay, Cat.‖ Carrick came quickly to her side and took her arm. ―Cat?‖ Molly looked up from washing the body‘s hair.―Why do ye keep calling her Cat?‖

  ―Caitriona is her second name, mother,‖ he covered himself.―She has used two of her nine lives. One last night, and one at Culloden. I find it fitting these days, aye?‖

  Cat raised a brow at him as if to say, good save!

  Morag, who knew Cat‘s true identity, shot Carrick an approving smile.

  ―I suppose,‖ Molly answered.―Cat it will be then.‖ She gave him a mother‘s indulgent smile.

  ―Cat.‖ He touched her cheek.―‗Tis no necessary. Come away.‖

  ―Nay, Carrick.‖ Cat smiled up at him.―I must do this. She was my responsibility, ye ken?‗Tis the least I can do. Go now. Be with Ian,‖ she urged.

  ―The lass can stay.‖ Morag looked squarely at him.―If she feels the need, then ye must respect it, aye?‖

  Carrick nodded mutely, then to Cat, ―Ye certain?‖

  ―Aye, I am.‖ She hugged him.―Go now, please?‖

  ―All right then.‖ He shrugged.―I will be wi‘ Ian when yer ready.‖

  Cat went behind him and gently closed the doors.

  ―Tell me what to do,‖ she said quietly.―Let me help ye put her to rest.‖

  They laid Anne ‘s broken body, shrouded in linen, in a small wagon. Olivia covered it in wildflowers, fragrant and vivid.

  Hamish stayed behind with Ian, and with Carrick pulling the wagon, the five of them made their way up the hill to the family cemetery. It was the same cemetery Cat and Olivia had visited in their own time. Funny, Cat reflected, there had been no marker with Anne‘s name on it then. How could that be? she wondered sadly.

  The small cortege arrived at the grave side in somber mood. No bagpipes would play this day to mourn her, for they had been proscripted. Not officially for a few months yet, but they dared not. The best they could manage was Cat‘s fiddle and Olivia‘s voice.

  Cat had found her fiddle—Jenny‘s fiddle—in the bedroom armoire along with Jenny‘s clothes. Untouched as she had left them before Culloden. She would play Amazing Grace, a song which would not be written until 1779, and by an Englishman at that.

  They circled round the open grave and Carrick bowed his head. He made the sign of the cross and the others followed.

  ―Our Father, Who art in Heaven,‖ he began, leading them.―Hallowed be Thy name.‖ Together they said The Lord’s Prayer and stood silently for a few moments.

  ―We come to lay to rest Anne MacHenry, a fine lass ruthlessly murdered in youth and without provocation.‖ He cleared his throat and went on.―She was devoted helper and friend to us all. May God bless her rest and give her peace wi‘ His Saints.‖

  Tenderly, and with tears welling, Cat assisted Carrick in lowering the body into the grave. When it was done, they each gathered a handful of soil and lovingly sprinkled it into the grave.

  Cat retrieved her fiddle and nodded to Olivia. She slowly began the first notes of Amazing Grace; Olivia‘s trained soprano crafting each note with care. Morag and Molly held each other close. The mournful music filled them with the grace that had sustained and uplifted them with courage through so many turbulent years.

  May it finally be over, Cat prayed fervently to herself. But she knew it was not to end. Not in this lifetime, at least.

  ― Hamish MacAllan,‖ Molly addressed him from the doorway, watching Ian sleep comfortably. She had not had time to speak with Hamish, what with Ian‘s injuries and Anne‘s funeral.―It is good to see ye after so many years.‖ She seated herself in a chair next to him, careful not to wake Ian.

  ― Aye, Molly,‖ Hamish smiled back at her.―‗Tis good to be home,‖ he agreed, although he was thinking of his own time and how it felt to be back in Scotlan
d—1746 or… ―I do regret the circumstances, however.‖

  ― Verra unfortunate,‖ she agreed. ―I thank ye for all ye‘ve done for Ian. Ye saved him and I am verra grateful to ye.‖

  ―He‘s a fine lad.‖ Hamish glanced at the sleeping young man.―He‘s strong. He‘ll be fine, Molly. Have no doubt.‖

  ―He is.‖ She looked at Ian with affection.―No better son a mother could wish for.‖ Maternal pride shone on her face.―And it is good of ye to heal Jenny - Cat, I suppose she wishes to be called, and bring her home to us. How did she come to ye?‖

  Hamish thought for a moment. He had the clear impression Molly was testing him. Good job he had prepared for this.

  ―She was brought to my door by some clansmen,‖ he answered, as though recalling a true event. ―They said she had awakened enough to tell them my name and where I was. It was a shock, I assure ye.‖

  ―I imagine it was, indeed.‖ Molly patted his hand. There was something in her eyes when she looked at him. A strange mix of tenderness and, perhaps, suspicion?―Well, in any event, it is good to see ye safe, and our Cat alive and well. Will ye have a bite, Hamish?‖ she asked, rising to leave.

  ―If it willna trouble ye, thank ye, Molly.‖ He rose to stretch his legs and gave her a courteous bow.

  ―I‘ll send something in for ye then.‖ She turned to leave. ―We will have ourselves an interesting conversation later, aye?‖ She looked at him over her shoulder.

  ―Certainly.‖ Hamish nodded, a twinge of anxiety rising. A most interesting conversation that would be.

  Cat found him in the barn, sitting on an upturned bucket among the burnt timbers and planks. He looked a million miles away in thought, and she stood back, silently observing him. It had to be wrenching, to come back to this loss; his brother injured, one of his people murdered, his country in turmoil.

  Carrick knew what was to come. Hamish knew his history well and had tutored him in it. He knew it would be worse before it would be better—that Scotland was about to change, never again to be as he had known it. That had to hang heavily on him. She shifted her feet in the ashes, making a soft woosh.

  ― Cat, are ye there?‘ he looked up to see her in the shadows. ―Do ye come and sit,‖ he beckoned, pulling another bucket to his side. ―I would have a word wi‘ ye.‖

  Cat walked over to him, stepping gingerly over fallen roof timbers and scorched farm implements. As she drew closer to him, she could see ashes in his hair. Soot coated his hands and clung to his face. He had clearly been working here for a while.

  ―Aye, Carrick.What is it?‖ She sat next to him and waited.

  ―I ken ye were sent here by the locket.‖ He rubbed his hands together and looked into them. ―When ye arrived, tell, me how it was.‖

  Cat spent a good five minutes recounting all that had led up to her encounter with the vile Camden. As she told the tale, anxiety rose in her and she searched frantically for the source.

  ―Carrick,‖ she said, her voice shaky. ―I have a thing to say to ye. I need ye to listen to it all before ye react, aye?‖

  Comprehending that something was troubling her, Carrick merely nodded and remained still.

  ―Before ye came to me,‖ she said tentatively. ―Before I kent about ye and remembered, there was a man.‖ She saw the blood begin to rise in him and put a calming hand to him.

  ―Nay, Carrick.‖ She wanted to stop his thoughts in the wrong direction.―‗Twas no like that. He was a verra famous composer and a colleague. I worked wi‘ him. I didna date him. Ye ken the word ‗date,‘ do ye no?‖

  Slowly, waiting for her to finish before he judged, he nodded his head.―Aye, courting? Ye were no courting each other?‖

  ―That‘s right.‖ She smiled to reassure him. ―I didna even like the man,‖ she continued. ―He was arrogant, brilliant, but arrogant. Smug, and self-absorbed. But he wanted me and I didna want him at all.‖ Cat took a breath to relieve the troubled memory.

  ―I rebuffed him time and again. Still he wouldna stop his attentions. In my time, it is called stalking. He meant to make me his and wouldna stop. I had to go to the courts and obtain a restraining order to keep him away. Do ye understand so far?‖

  ―Aye, I think so,‖ he answered, checking his growing emotions. ―Did he harm ye, Cat?‖

  She shook her head and looked him squarely in the eye. ―Nay Carrick, I promise ye. He never touched me, never. And I hadna seen nor heard of him for over a year when ye came to me. But Carrick, I think - I am fairly certain - well, we all ken about reincarnation, do we no?‖

  ―Aye, Cat, we are proof of it,‖ he agreed.

  ―Then ye‘ll no think me mad when I tell ye, I think Camden is that man reincarnated. I am fair certain of it now.‖

  Carrick stood up abruptly and began to pace in the debris. He put a hand to his hair and ran his fingers through it, dislodging ashes that had accumulated.

  ―But he is alive in yer time,‖ Carrick said, trying to reason it. Only the dead could reincarnate as far as he understood. ―Is he alive in yer time, Cat?‖

  Cat remained seated and shifted her legs. ―Nay, he‘s dead,‖ she answered him, her face drawn. ―He took his own life in London where he was working. Over a year ago now, I think. It was a scandal in the music world, the way he stalked me. His suicide was no a shock.‖

  ―Then it is possible, I suppose,‖ he answered, thinking through the ramifications. ―That means...‖

  ―That Camden will come back as he swore he would. And it would explain his fascination wi‘ me as well,‖ Cat finished for him. ―Aye. He thinks ye dead at Culloden, ye ken? If he finds ye alive, he will kill ye.‖

  Carrick sat down on his bucket and let out a long breath. ―Well then,‖ he said, deciding the issue. ―We must be verra wary of him in future, aye? And I must be more vigilant protecting ye.‖

  Cat smiled into his worried eyes and reached for his blackened hand. ―I‘m sorry I had to tell ye, Carrick. But I thought it best ye knew.‖

  ―Good job that ye did,‖ he answered and leaned to kiss her. ―Dinna fash, Cat.‖ His touch released the tension in her.―We‘ll no let him near ye again, aye?‖

  ―Aye,‖ she answered, fully confident in him. ―Well now,‖ she stood and surveyed the rubble. ―What next? Tell me what to do.‖

  Carrick rose and shook off the conversation. He went into a stall and began to kick at thefire‘s wreckage.

  ―What are ye looking for?‖ she asked.―Did ye loose something?‖

  ―Are,‖ he answered, picking up a shovel and scrapping away the muck.―The door to the cellar. It‘s here somewhere.‖

  ―Oh that.‖ Cat remembered Ian had secreted the valuables there. It should be fine, shouldn‘t it? The fire only got the roof.‖

  ―Aye, it should.‖ He found the edge of the door, crafted so that it made a barely perceptible seam with the other planks. ―Let‘s find out.‖ He raised the door, sending ashes and other mess dancing into the sunbeams. ―Ye coming?‖ He gestured to her.

  ―Of course,‖ she answered, and lifted her skirts to follow.

  He lit the steep stairs into the cellar with Olivia‘s flashlight. He had kept it well-hidden in his jacket. Carrick went down first, then shone the light on the stairs for Cat.

  ―What a smell!‖ She sniffed as she stepped onto the stone floor. ―It smells of mildew and rot. I do hope your valuables arena the type to be affected.‖ She was tempted to pinch her nose against the odor.

  ―Oh, aye.‖ Carrick flashed the light about the small room. The shelves were full of family silver; tea services, bowls, turines, goblets, trays, and candlesticks. Among the silver were leather-bound books, crystal, porcelain, and an armory of various weapons. Several casks lined one wall, whisky she presumed. Along another wall were two large trunks.

  Carrick went to one of the trunks and stopped in front of it, feeling along behind the shelf above it.

  ―Here now,‖ he said, retrieving a key that was fastened by hook to the back of the wall. It had been
hidden behind the books where Cat would not have seen it.

  ―What is it ye‘re looking for?‖ she asked in awe. It was like stepping into Aladdin‘s cave. Full of glorious treasure. She could not recall ever seeing the place when she had been Jenny.

  ―We‘ll need money to rebuild and restock.‖ He bent to unlock the trunk. As it sprang open, he gestured.―Ye see?‖

  Cat had never seen so many banknotes and coins in one place. ―Oh my!‖ She knelt beside him to get a closer look. ―Why do ye no keep it in a bank?‖ She ran her hand across the top of the neat piles.

  ―No in these times, Cat.‖ He took a small leather bag from his jacket and put one stack of notes into it. ―Jacobite accounts have been seized by the Sasunnach for some time, aye?‗Tis safer here.‖ He stood and helped her rise.

  ―I never kent about this, did I?‖ She rubbed her arms against the damp cold.

  ―Nay,‖ he said thoughtfully, reaching for the flashlight. ―I didna want to endanger ye wi‘ the knowledge, ye ken?‖

  Cat nodded. He was always protecting everyone around him, but never himself. Even with knowledge.

  ―Carrick.‖ She looked up at him in the gloom. ―Where is it ye will go to buy these things?‖

  ―Inverness, after I ha‘ spoken wi‘ Geordie, our Factor, and ha‘ seen to things here,‖ he said flatly.

  ―I want to go wi‘ ye,‖ she said. ―Ye canna stop me in this. Aye,‖ she rebutted his raised brow. ―I ken

  - it‘s dangerous. I went wi‘ ye to Culloden before and other dangerous places.‖

  ―Oh, aye,‖ he argued. ―Only after ye beat me wi‘ yer words and ye see the result? Ye dead and me having to find ye?‖

  Cat was suddenly ashamed of herself and turned from him. ―I ken it well. Was I truly as shrewish as I recall? I‘m so sorry, I didna realize it. I couldna bear being without ye.‖ She turned back to face him. ―But this time, I promise I will do as ye say, aye? I do recall how to use a dirk and a pistol. Ye taught me well.‖

  ―Nay, Caitriona.‖ He put his arms around her and held her close. ―Ye were never a shrew. But ye did wear me down on the point. Fine then,‖ he said. ―Ye can help with the inventory and then we go. But mind ye, Cat.‖ He touched her cheek.―Ye will listen this time.‖