| Terisa Wilcox Passion, adventure and Highland Romance ...travel back in time for love |
| Through the mists of time you shall journey if out loud these words you speak. If love you find, this time you will keep. |
Kristianna Campbell stood in the middle of the empty hallway, in a MacGregor castle in Scotland, frozen to the floor, her knees ready to
buckle from the force of the shock that reverberated through her. This was not possible. She put her hand on the wall to steady herself and
glanced behind her. She needed to sit down, but there were no chairs.
Only that painting occupied the dimly lit hallway.
That painting. She swallowed, unable to keep her eyes from straying back to the man who stared down at her. The man from her dreams.
When she'd arrived in Scotland yesterday with her classmates, and realized they'd be staying in a castle owned by the MacGregor's, she'd
been ecstatic. True, she was a Campbell, but through her adoptive grandparents on her mother's side, she considered herself a MacGregor as
well. Maybe even more so considering she'd lived more with her grandparents than her parents.
She refocused her attention on the man in the portrait.
Sunlight from the nearby window lit his face. His shoulder length hair glinted with blue highlights, a shade darker than the crisp hair visible at
the opening of his white shirt.
Compelled, she leaned forward, her hand extended. Her fingers itched to touch him. His vibrant blue eyes locked with hers. She
moved nearer. His neatly trimmed beard and mustache did nothing to hide the firm mouth that twitched in a mocking, self-confident smirk,
almost daring her to move closer.
She dared.
She reached to touch the silver brooch fastened to the red and green MacGregor plaid draped carelessly over his shoulder. It was something
safe, not real like the rest of him.
Real?
Kris snatched her hand away. She looked around, fearful someone had seen her. The carpeted hallway was still empty. Why then did she
have the sensation she wasn't alone, that someone watched her?
She shook her head. What a vivid imagination. There was nobody about and the painting was just an inanimate object, nothing more. The
déjà vu that washed over her, however was hard to ignore.
With a deep breath to calm her shaking nerves, she looked up once more, finding it impossible not to stare at the man. Tall, with broad
shoulders, he stood with legs braced apart. His muscled arms crossed over his chest portrayed self-assurance in every line of his powerful
frame. Kris closed her eyes and shivered.
"Is everything all right, Miss Campbell?"
Kris jumped and whirled around with a squeak. Brian MacGregor, the proprietor of Castle MacGregor, stood beside her looking at her with
concern in his deep blue eyes. A sweet, older man of about sixty or so, he reminded her of St. Nick from 'Twas The Night Before Christmas.
She offered him smile, realizing it came out a bit on the wobbly side.
"I didn't mean to startle you," he chuckled.
"It's okay," she waved a dismissive hand at him. "I guess I was lost in my thoughts and didn't hear you. And please, call me Kris." Every time
someone called her Miss Campbell, it only reminded her of how close she had been to actually becoming a real MacGregor. She still wouldn't
mind being a MacGregor, but not at the expense of her dignity. She couldn't decide if she was more happy or relieved that she hadn't followed
through with her plans to marry David.
Kris shook her head the moment she realized her mind was wandering into the forbidden zone again. She was here to study and have fun, not
to think about her past mistakes. Besides, there were more important things to ponder. Such as that man staring at her from the portrait.
"'Tis a fine rendering of the Laird, wouldn't you say?" Bryan gestured to the painting behind her.
"Oh, um, yes I suppose it is. Which Laird is it? I don't see any plaque."
"Iain MacGregor, Laird of that clan for some months in 1604." His brogue brought to mind memories of listening to her adoptive
grandparents, Thelma and Robert MacGregor.
"Iain MacGregor, huh?" The man who invaded her dreams since she'd agree to come to Scotland was a real person.
At least now she had a name to go with the face. She shivered. And not because of the sudden breeze that blew through the window.
Dreaming about the man was bad enough, knowing he actually lived sent tingles down her spine.
"He was Laird for only a few months? Did something happen to him that he was only Laird for such a short time?" How tragic if he died so
soon after becoming Laird.
"'Tis unknown what became of him. It seems he vanished during the early summer of 1604. As you can probably imagine, rumors and tales
abound about what actually happened to him."
"He vanished?"
"Aye," Mr. MacGregor nodded. "Legend has it that he'd fallen in love, found his mate. The lady of his heart, however, was said to be a
Campbell."
"A mortal enemy of the MacGregor's in the 17th century. Weren't they the ones who pushed the hardest for the MacGregor's proscription?"
"Aye, that they were. Ye know some of our history then?"
"I do. My grandparents were Scottish. MacGregor's actually."
"Well, what a wonder, that. Anyway, ye are right, the MacGregor's had many enemies during that time and before, but the Campbell's were
the fiercest of those enemies in the seventeenth century. Aye and for many centuries before and after that as well, Miss Campbell." With
emphasis on her name, he gave her a knowing wink.
She laughed, "lucky for us were not in the 17th century, anymore then, hmm?" she whispered in Gaelic.
"I see you know a bit of our language." Bryan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Ye are a wonder, lass."
"As I said, my grandparents were Scottish. They insisted my siblings and I learn the language. Although some of us picked it up better than
others."
A chuckle escaped them both.
"Please, continue with your tale. Tell me what happened?"
"'Aye, well, 'tis said Iain sent his lady away for her own safety as well as the safety of his clan and that of himself. They'd had enough troubles
from the Campbell's and did not wish to borrow more. Iain grew heartsick however, realizing he could not live without her. He rode away
from the keep one day with a vow not to return without her." His eyes met hers with a knowing look.
"And?" She asked after a few moments of silence. She was torn between conflicting emotions of anticipation and dread. Disconcerted, she
crossed her arms and looked away.
"'Tis said he was never seen or heard from again."
buckle from the force of the shock that reverberated through her. This was not possible. She put her hand on the wall to steady herself and
glanced behind her. She needed to sit down, but there were no chairs.
Only that painting occupied the dimly lit hallway.
That painting. She swallowed, unable to keep her eyes from straying back to the man who stared down at her. The man from her dreams.
When she'd arrived in Scotland yesterday with her classmates, and realized they'd be staying in a castle owned by the MacGregor's, she'd
been ecstatic. True, she was a Campbell, but through her adoptive grandparents on her mother's side, she considered herself a MacGregor as
well. Maybe even more so considering she'd lived more with her grandparents than her parents.
She refocused her attention on the man in the portrait.
Sunlight from the nearby window lit his face. His shoulder length hair glinted with blue highlights, a shade darker than the crisp hair visible at
the opening of his white shirt.
Compelled, she leaned forward, her hand extended. Her fingers itched to touch him. His vibrant blue eyes locked with hers. She
moved nearer. His neatly trimmed beard and mustache did nothing to hide the firm mouth that twitched in a mocking, self-confident smirk,
almost daring her to move closer.
She dared.
She reached to touch the silver brooch fastened to the red and green MacGregor plaid draped carelessly over his shoulder. It was something
safe, not real like the rest of him.
Real?
Kris snatched her hand away. She looked around, fearful someone had seen her. The carpeted hallway was still empty. Why then did she
have the sensation she wasn't alone, that someone watched her?
She shook her head. What a vivid imagination. There was nobody about and the painting was just an inanimate object, nothing more. The
déjà vu that washed over her, however was hard to ignore.
With a deep breath to calm her shaking nerves, she looked up once more, finding it impossible not to stare at the man. Tall, with broad
shoulders, he stood with legs braced apart. His muscled arms crossed over his chest portrayed self-assurance in every line of his powerful
frame. Kris closed her eyes and shivered.
"Is everything all right, Miss Campbell?"
Kris jumped and whirled around with a squeak. Brian MacGregor, the proprietor of Castle MacGregor, stood beside her looking at her with
concern in his deep blue eyes. A sweet, older man of about sixty or so, he reminded her of St. Nick from 'Twas The Night Before Christmas.
She offered him smile, realizing it came out a bit on the wobbly side.
"I didn't mean to startle you," he chuckled.
"It's okay," she waved a dismissive hand at him. "I guess I was lost in my thoughts and didn't hear you. And please, call me Kris." Every time
someone called her Miss Campbell, it only reminded her of how close she had been to actually becoming a real MacGregor. She still wouldn't
mind being a MacGregor, but not at the expense of her dignity. She couldn't decide if she was more happy or relieved that she hadn't followed
through with her plans to marry David.
Kris shook her head the moment she realized her mind was wandering into the forbidden zone again. She was here to study and have fun, not
to think about her past mistakes. Besides, there were more important things to ponder. Such as that man staring at her from the portrait.
"'Tis a fine rendering of the Laird, wouldn't you say?" Bryan gestured to the painting behind her.
"Oh, um, yes I suppose it is. Which Laird is it? I don't see any plaque."
"Iain MacGregor, Laird of that clan for some months in 1604." His brogue brought to mind memories of listening to her adoptive
grandparents, Thelma and Robert MacGregor.
"Iain MacGregor, huh?" The man who invaded her dreams since she'd agree to come to Scotland was a real person.
At least now she had a name to go with the face. She shivered. And not because of the sudden breeze that blew through the window.
Dreaming about the man was bad enough, knowing he actually lived sent tingles down her spine.
"He was Laird for only a few months? Did something happen to him that he was only Laird for such a short time?" How tragic if he died so
soon after becoming Laird.
"'Tis unknown what became of him. It seems he vanished during the early summer of 1604. As you can probably imagine, rumors and tales
abound about what actually happened to him."
"He vanished?"
"Aye," Mr. MacGregor nodded. "Legend has it that he'd fallen in love, found his mate. The lady of his heart, however, was said to be a
Campbell."
"A mortal enemy of the MacGregor's in the 17th century. Weren't they the ones who pushed the hardest for the MacGregor's proscription?"
"Aye, that they were. Ye know some of our history then?"
"I do. My grandparents were Scottish. MacGregor's actually."
"Well, what a wonder, that. Anyway, ye are right, the MacGregor's had many enemies during that time and before, but the Campbell's were
the fiercest of those enemies in the seventeenth century. Aye and for many centuries before and after that as well, Miss Campbell." With
emphasis on her name, he gave her a knowing wink.
She laughed, "lucky for us were not in the 17th century, anymore then, hmm?" she whispered in Gaelic.
"I see you know a bit of our language." Bryan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Ye are a wonder, lass."
"As I said, my grandparents were Scottish. They insisted my siblings and I learn the language. Although some of us picked it up better than
others."
A chuckle escaped them both.
"Please, continue with your tale. Tell me what happened?"
"'Aye, well, 'tis said Iain sent his lady away for her own safety as well as the safety of his clan and that of himself. They'd had enough troubles
from the Campbell's and did not wish to borrow more. Iain grew heartsick however, realizing he could not live without her. He rode away
from the keep one day with a vow not to return without her." His eyes met hers with a knowing look.
"And?" She asked after a few moments of silence. She was torn between conflicting emotions of anticipation and dread. Disconcerted, she
crossed her arms and looked away.
"'Tis said he was never seen or heard from again."
| You can read the entire first chapter here: Timeless Mist |
| A preview of the first book in the MacGregor series! |
