Page 10 of Cottage in the Mist (Time After Time #3)

“Act, you pair wee lamb, I canna believe you were out there in that storm.” Agnes Abernathy dabbed the cut on Lily’s head one last time and then firmly affixed a bandage.

On the surface, Agnes had the buttoned-up sensibility of a wise old woman, but the sparkle in her eyes gave her an impish quality that hinted at a much younger soul.

“That should hold you for now. The cut isn’t deep.

But the knock on your head was pretty severe. ”

Lily winced at the pronouncement. Severe enough to have made her imagine the cottage in the mist.

And the man who’d changed her forever.

Grief did strange things, but she wasn’t a person normally given to fantasy. And yet this morning she’d woken in her car with Jamie Abernathy, Agnes’s husband, pounding on the window, worried no doubt that her injuries had been far worse than they actually were.

She hadn’t bothered to tell him that she hadn’t spent the night in the car. That she hadn’t been out in the storm much at all. How could she possibly explain the light in the woods? The shelter of the cottage. The warmth of the fire. The heat of the man.

There was no cottage. Or at least there hadn’t been one in a very long time. She’d seen the ruins with her own two eyes. Touched the tumble of stones with her own two hands.

There was no cottage.

And so there could have been no man.

She’d made it all up. Out of desperation or panic or God knows what. And now… now she was sitting in Mrs. Abernathy’s cozy parlor at Duncreag trying to pretend that nothing had happened. That everything was normal.

“Are you sure you dinna want me to call the doctor?”

Lily pulled her thoughts away from last night, shaking her head. “No, really. I’m fine. Just a little banged up. It could have been a lot worse.” In truth she wasn’t sure how, but she wasn’t ready to discuss it. Especially with a woman she hardly knew. No matter how lovely she might seem.

“Aye, I suppose it could. That river can be nasty. Especially with the kind of rain we had last night. I’m grateful that you and your wee car weren’t washed away.”

“You and me both,” Lily sighed.

“’Tis no’ much of a welcome we’ve given you, I’m afraid. But that doesn’t mean we’re not delighted you’re here. Valerie was really worried.”

“I’m grateful that you called to let her know I was okay. My cell isn’t working up here. I forgot to arrange for European coverage when I left.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have done you any good.” Mrs. Abernathy shrugged. “Between the hills and the valleys there is no’ much coverage even if you’ve got a Scottish phone. Can I get you anything else to eat?”

The woman had been fussing over Lily since her husband had brought her home.

Home. Now there was a thought. The tower was imposing. Magnificent in its own way, but it was hard to think of it as anyone’s home. Even though the inside had been remodeled to turn it into an inn, the bones were still clearly medieval.

Something chased across her spine and she shivered.

“How about some more tea?” Mrs. Abernathy urged, her keen eyes taking in Lily’s discomfort.

Lily nodded, holding out her cup, grateful to be taken care of.

Mrs. Abernathy poured the tea and then sat back, her gaze assessing. “I canna help but feel that there’s more to the story than what you’ve told us.”

“If there is, then I don’t remember it,” Lily answered.

“I’m afraid everything went a bit hazy after I hit my head.

” Actually it had gone the way of Alice down the rabbit hole, but she wasn’t about to admit that.

“So how do you know Valerie?” she asked, trying to shift the conversation away from the talk of last night.

Mrs. Abernathy held her gaze for a moment more, and then smiled. “Actually I met her through your mother.”

“You knew my mother?” Lily wondered why Valerie hadn’t mentioned the fact. But then decided that if she’d known, she might not have wanted to come. Ghosts of the past and all that.

“Aye. And your father, too,” Mrs. Abernathy was saying. “They stayed here once, a long time ago. Just after they were married. Long before you were born.” She sat back, taking a sip of her tea. “They were lovely people, your parents.”

“Yes, they were. I’m glad you had the chance to know them. But then where does Valerie come into it?” She frowned, trying to put it all together.

“Well, actually she came to stay not long after that. On your mother’s recommendation.

It was just after her first divorce.” Valerie had been married three times.

None of them keepers, as she was fond of saying.

“I think she needed a friend, and frankly, so did I. Anyway, we bonded over red wine and old American movies.”

“And you’ve kept in touch all these years.”

“Aye. She’s been here a few more times. And I met her in New York one fall.

My grand adventure, Jamie calls it.” Mrs. Abernathy smiled, her eyes softening with the memory.

“I canna tell you how sorry I was to hear about your parents. But I was glad when you decided to come here. Duncreag is a magical place. You can feel it in the air. If there’s anywhere that can soothe your soul, it’s here. ”

“And are Katherine and Iain in residence?” Lily asked, wondering idly what a Scottish laird would look like.

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Abernathy asked, her brows drawing together as she frowned.

“Valerie said that the new laird was moving in. Something about an inheritance?”

“Well,” Mrs. Abernathy said, tilting her head to one side quizzically, “that much is surely true. But the new laird’s name is Jeffrey. Jeffrey St. Claire. ’Tis him and his wife Elaine who’ve come to live here.”

Lily frowned. “I’m sorry. Clearly I’ve gotten the names wrong. I must have misunderstood.” She mentally chided herself for the mistake. Katherine and Iain were the names that Bram had given her. And Bram wasn’t real. Which meant, of course, that his Katherine and Iain never existed either.

Again Mrs. Abernathy seemed to be searching her face and Lily struggled not to blurt it all out.

It would be so nice to confide in someone.

But she was fairly certain that even in the Highlands, a woman spouting tales of disappearing cottages and dark, rugged strangers would result in a call to the nearest psych ward.

“Ach, well, that’s easy enough to do.” Mrs. Abernathy smiled, but there was still something Lily couldn’t quite put a name to reflected in her eyes. “Especially after all that you’ve been through. Jeffrey and Elaine have gone out for the day. They should be back later this evening.”

“Are you certain that I won’t be intruding? I mean, Val said they’d only just arrived. They might not want a stranger in their home. Is there another inn somewhere close by?” She actually hated the idea of leaving, but she equally hated the idea of imposing where she wasn’t wanted.

“They were delighted to know you were coming. After all, they’re only a wee bit older than you. And I expect they’ll be happy to have someone their own age about. Mr. Abernathy and I aren’t exactly spring chickens.”

Lily was fairly certain Agnes Abernathy could keep up with the springiest of spring chickens. “Well, I’ll look forward to meeting them, then. And I am happy to be here.”

And surprisingly, she realized, she spoke the truth. Despite everything, she was glad she’d come. Glad that she’d wrecked her car. Because if she hadn’t, she’d never have found the cottage. And even if it had been a figment of her imagination, she had no regrets.

Bram Macgillivray was more than worth losing a little bit of her sanity. And the memory of their night together—real or imagined—was something she’d always cherish.

Smothering a yawn, Lily pulled her attention back to her hostess. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a bit more tired than I realized.”

“And me going on like a chatterbox,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “Let me show you to your room. What you need is a good sleep. Everything will be clearer in the morning. You’ll see.”

Lily was too tired to ask how Mrs. Abernathy knew there were things that needed to be cleared up. As she followed the older woman up the stairs to her room, she had the crazy thought that maybe Mrs. Abernathy already knew about the cottage.

About Bram.

Although that was hardly possible.

Still, this was the Highlands. And as Mrs. Abernathy had said—there was magic in the air.

“Is she here?” Bram asked, striding into the small room where Katherine was hanging dried herbs.

“Is who here?” Katherine asked as she tied a piece of twine around a bunch of dried leaves. Rosemary, if he was smelling right. His mother had kept a room much like this one, ready with the herbs and poultices she needed to heal various ailments.

“Lily.” Bram tried but failed to keep the impatience from his voice. “She said she was coming to see you. And when I couldn’t find her this morning, I’d hoped to find her here.”

Katherine frowned. “I’m not acquainted with anyone by that name. And as far as I know, no one has arrived today. I think with all the concern over your situation, Fergus would have told me if they had.”

Bram dropped into a chair, his heart constricting. “Then where can she be?”

“Where can who be?” Iain Mackintosh’s voice filled the room as he entered, Ranald Macqueen following on his heels.

Iain was a giant of a man with inky black hair and intelligent eyes.

There was little he missed. And nothing he couldn’t handle.

Especially when he was with Ranald. The two men had been best friends since they were just wee boys and Bram counted their kinship among his most cherished.

“Bram seems to have lost someone important,” Katherine said, crossing over to her husband.

The joy reflected on both of their faces made Bram’s heart twist even more. Before last night he would have admired their commitment. Maybe even been envious of their obvious devotion. But it now… now he had some inkling of how powerful their love really was. And how rare.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” She rose on tiptoe to kiss him, her arms sliding around his neck.

“I was only gone a few days.” Iain’s laughter filled the room. “But I missed you as well.”

Ranald cleared his throat. “Not that I dinna appreciate the fact that the two of you canna stand being parted, but I think we have more pressing matters to deal with.”

“Aye,” Iain said, his arm still around his wife. “We came as soon as we got Katherine’s message.”

“Is Ailis not with you?” Katherine asked.

“Nay,” Ranald said. “She’s with my mother. She’s no’ been well, and Ailis wanted to stay until she’s feeling better.”

Bram’s Aunt Ealasaid had always been a favorite and he hated to hear that she was unwell. “Is it something to worry about?” he asked.

“Nay.” Ranald shook his head. “She’s only caught a wee chill. But Ailis insisted on staying.”

“Well then, your mother is a lucky woman. She’ll be in good hands with Ailis.” Katherine smiled.

“That she will,” Ranald agreed. “But of course it means you’ll have to suffer my presence here. I canna imagine going back to Tur nan Clach without her.” It was no secret that Ranald wasn’t as fond of his wife’s holding as he was of the lady herself.

“So tell me, then,” Iain said, his gaze moving to Bram, “who is this woman you have managed to lose?”

“I dinna know much about her, really. Her name is Lily,” Bram said, leaning forward on a sigh. “And I found her by my fire last night. She got caught in the storm. Soaked to the skin, she was. With a knot on her head the size of a bannock. I took her in. And I took care of her.”

Ranald covered his mouth with his hand and smothered a laugh.

Bram shot him a quelling look, and at least his cousin had the good sense to look chagrinned. “’Twas no’ like that. She was hurt and she needed my help.”

Actually Ranald was right, but he wasn’t about to admit it. God’s truth, he’d taken advantage of Lily, there was no getting around it. Which might explain why she’d run away. But he’d be damned if he’d let her go so easily.

“So when you woke this morning she was gone?” Iain asked, obviously sensing the note of desperation in Bram’s voice.

“Nay. She was there. Sleeping. So I went to get more wood for the fire. And then I heard her call for me. Or at least I thought I did. But when I got back to the cottage, she was gone.”

“Poof,” Ranald said, snapping his fingers. “Like a fairy.”

“That’s no’ funny,” Bram snapped. “Something could have happened to her.”

“I know, lad. I’m no’ making sport of your plight. ’Tis just that the three of us have had some experience with the fairies.” He shot a smile at Katherine, who blushed as Iain grinned.

“Well, if you’re saying that I’m imagining her, I can prove otherwise.” Bram reached into his sporran, removing a piece of folded leather. “I have her slipper. She left it in the cottage.” He held it out and Iain took it.

“’Tis very fine.” He frowned, staring at something on the inside of the sole. “There’s something written here. To-ry Burch,” he read, then looked down at his wife. “Do these words mean something to you?”

Katherine took the slipper from her husband as if needing to see the words for herself. Then with a quiet nod, she sat down, the color draining from her face. “It’s a name. A woman who designs shoes.”

Ranald and Bram moved closer, the four of them staring down at the leather slipper in Katherine’s hand. Bram’s stomach was churning. Something in Katherine’s face made Ranald’s talk of fairies seem suddenly less offhand.

“And this woman,” Iain said, his gaze moving to his wife’s, “this designer—“ He stumbled a bit over the word. “—is she from your world?”

“Yes.” Katherine nodded, handing the slipper back to Iain. “She is.”

“Which means, cousin o’ mine,” Ranald said, this time his voice somber, “that your Lily is no’ of our world either. Which goes a long way to explaining why she simply seems to have disappeared.”