Laird of the Mist by Foery MacDonell Page A

disappeared completely from sight, leaving the mist to slowly evaporate.
―Caitriona!‖ Carrick yelled and raced to the empty chair.―Where is she?‖ He waved his hands to clear the remaining mist, then turned to the astonished pair behind him.―What has happened?‖ He was frantic, feeling every bit of the chair with both hands, as if he could conjure her back.
Olivia, stunned, stood stone still and silent, letting the champagne flow sideways from her glass onto the lawn.
Hamish was white and looked strangely frail. He could not move or speak a word.
―God‘s damnation!‖ Carrick raged as he lifted the locket from the empty chair, holding it at arm‘s length as if it were a venomous snake. Realization dawned as he wrapped his fist around it.―That cursed locket,‖ he swore.―It‘s taken her back to 1746!‖
The statement shook Hamish from his shock.―Oh, dear Lord,‖ he said, terror shaking his voice as he trembled.―Tomorrow is the day Cumberland attacks the castle and fires all the crofts in the glen!‖
    ― The witch‘s words were true,‖ Carrick said, his head in his hands.―I shouldha thought…‖ He raised his face to look at Hamish. They had come into the sitting room of the castle hotel to discuss the situation and plan what to do.
―It‘s not your fault, Carrick,‖ Olivia assured him, putting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
    ― No, it‘s not,‖ Hamish agreed.―The witch led ye to believe the locket would allow ye to travel. She didna say it would affect Cat.‖
―True.‖ Carrick nodded.―But it doesna make it less so. We must go to her as soon as we can manage it.‖
―How are we supposed to do that?‖ Olivia stood up and began to pace.―We don‘t know how the thing works. And you said the witch used special chants and stones and stuff.‖
―Aye, she did,‖ he answered, his face tense recalling the strange ritual.―Do ye no have witches in yer time?‖ he directed to Hamish, who appeared deep in thought.
―There are witches in our time,‖ Hamish began slowly.―I knew a pair of sisters in my home, Kingussie. They were verra adept.‖
―Then we must go to them,‖ Carrick decided firmly.―Mayhap they will ken the words to send us.‖
―That is a possibility,‖ Hamish agreed, uncertainly.―If they are still there. It has been many years since I last saw them, mind.‖
―Well, let‘s get going then,‖ Olivia demanded.―Let‘s pack and get to Kingussie.‖ Olivia started walking toward the door. ―We need to find these witches and get to Cat right away. I‘m going to change and pack,‖ she said over her shoulder as she left the room.
―We will need a plan,‖ Carrick said as he rose to follow.
―Aye, we do,‖ Hamish agreed, joining him.―We can devise it on the way to Kingussie. We‘d best hurry.‖ His voice was grave.―Our Cat has stepped into verra dangerous times.‖
―Ohhh,‖ Cat groaned, her hand on her face to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun.―My head...‖ ―‗Twill be fine, lass,‖ a raspy voice said from above where she lay.―I‘ll fix ye some willow tea to stop the ache. Let‘s get ye up slowly, aye?‖
    Cat opened her eyes to see an old, familiar face framed in wild grey hair looking back at her, eyes full of kindness and concern.
―Morag?‖ Cat ventured, recalling the witch.―Is that you?‖
―Aye, Jenny.‖ She laughed.―So ye do remember me,‖ Morag said, helping Cat to shakily stand.―I dinna expect ye to come. I thought Carrick would be wi‘ ye by now, in yer own time.‖
―He was.‖ She was still a bit unsteady as they made their way from the edge of the pool.―I think I was sent back somehow...oh...‖ She suddenly remembered, putting her hand to her throat. ―The locket.‖
―The locket sent ye?‖ Morag shook her head in wonder.―The spell was no to bring ye back, only Carrick. Here we are.‖ She led Cat into the cottage and bade her sit at the table.―I‘ll brew ye some willow while ye tell me all.‖
Cat