Belonging to MacGregor
by
J.J. Massa
~~~
Copyright 2012 J.J. Massa
Smashwords Edition
A Short Paranormal Story
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
~~~
Eian MacGregor existed in a never-ending limbo, caught in an envelope in time. Eternity stretched ahead of him, a hopeless and lonely place. Or was it? Shaken from his lethargy by two intricately drawn pictures of himself, Eian was equally moved by the young woman who’d painted them. He looked at her and saw breathtaking beauty. What did she see when she looked at him?
~~~
Chapter One -Who is Elsabetta Findley?
Chapter Two -Does she see what he sees?
Chapter Three -Have we met?
Chapter Four -How do you like the twentieth Century?
Chapter Five -Oh, didn't I mention my husband?
Chapter Six -Is Bigamy still Illegal?
Chapter Seven -You don't play well with others, do you?
Chapter Eight -How do you like me now?
Other Books by this Author--with book jacket blurbs
~~~
Prologue
“Let me go lass, ere the waters pull you under, too!” Eian ordered his strong voice thready and weak. The fight with his kinsman-rival had cost him a lot of blood and energy. Though he very much wanted to live, that prospect was fading fast. He had no desire to take anyone into the hereafter with him.
“I’ll let you go, Eian MacGregor, sure enough, but not to death.” The determined young lady leaned over and pressed her lips to the blood drenched cut on the large man’s throat. Lifting her head, she choked out, “The waters will take you to your rest but know this. In time yet to come, one of my daughters will call upon you to help her and be her man. You will save her from the Campbell and in so doing, save yourself.”
“Bless ya for stayin’ now go an’ save yourself, lass,” Eian gasped, the strength of his words stolen by an especially angry wave.
“You will not die of wounds or drowning, me Laird!” She promised him, “You will wait in between. When ye find your true love, she will bring you alive and you will live out your days with her to their natural end!”
The young woman was tossed to shore while what remained of the proud Laird, Eian MacGregor, was pulled out to sea, his body never recovered.
Though it took her awhile to recover from the trauma of watching her revered clan chief disappear under the waves, Eithne Finlay later married her cousin, Filib Finlay. The happy couple were later blessed with two daughters and a son. What followed was a long and full life for the young seer and her spouse. Eventually, their son, Iain, later married Finola MacGregor, niece of the late Laird. The struggle for Gregorstac Isle continued from one generation to the next.
~~~
The sea was violent today, towering blue-gray waves crashing against the rocks as Eian pushed against the harsh wind. He walked along the cliff’s edge making his way up to the point. Only a fool or a ghost would be out in this building storm.
A clap of thunder reverberated through him and the black sky was illuminated with a bright flash of light. Eian knew it was high time that he return to the castle. Who would be there now, he wondered. These days, it was impossible to tell. Time didn’t mean much to him any more. He had no idea how long he’d been at the cliffs – perhaps days, perhaps years.
Laird Eian MacGregor had left the realm of the living more than two hundred and seventy years prior, but life was still no easier. His entire universe consisted of his home, the cliffs surrounding it and the beach below the cliffs.
“Surprise, surprise,” Eian murmured as the castle came into view. “It is verra busy here today.”
He noticed the simple man and woman who’d lived in his home these last years. They seemed very excited.
Oddly enough, he was pleased to find them still alive, though much older than when he’d last been here. There had been a child in residence the last time he’d seen them. She’d made him uneasy somehow. When an old man had attacked her however, he’d intervened.
“Ida, has the big picture arrived? Our Elsabetta likes to have it near her.” That had to be Malcolm, Ida’s husband, as he recalled.
“It has Malcolm, but I’m not sure if we should put it in her chambers or over the fire in the sitting room?” Ida was acting quite flustered. This was most unlike the woman he’d grown accustomed to.
“We’ll hang the large one over the fireplace and put the smaller one in her room. We can hang it above the hearth there. How’s that?”
Ida was apparently satisfied and Eian followed the couple as they went about finishing their tasks. Somehow, their enthusiasm was contagious and even Eian was intrigued. They were looking forward to something and he found himself drawn into it, and very intrigued.
“I can’t wait to see her again,” Ida was saying. “Why, it’s been ten years since she last came home, hasn’t it? The telephone is not enough!”
“She was fourteen when she left this house, so it’s been twelve years, luv.” Malcolm embraced his wife. “It’ll be like having our own child back with us again.”
“She’s as beautiful as any of the pictures she paints,” Ida sighed. “Take the wrapping off that huge thing so we can see it. We’ll have Toby come and help you hang it later.”
Invisible to the excited couple, Eian looked on as Malcolm removed the brown paper from the large painting. Upon seeing the images on the canvas, the three of them gasped.
“It fair takes my breath away, it does,” sighed Ida.
“No doubt the lost Laird himself would swear to a likeness,” Malcolm agreed.
The painting depicted Eian dressed in the clothes he’d died in. He was standing at the edge of the cliff wearing his feilidh-mhor, or big kilt, as his father had in black and red tartan, over his saffron colored shirt with his thick hose and brogues.
He wore no headgear; instead, his long dark hair was braided at the temples and secured by a length of hide at his neck. A busy wind seemed to tug at his clothing and his head was turned slightly. The sun was setting in the painting as his likeness stared out over the water.
Eian jerked around to see Malcolm removing the paper from a smaller painting. This one was not as big but showed him from the waist up, with the castle in the background. His double stood in the act of turning, as if looking at someone who’d just arrived. The similarity was so remarkable that it was as if he was looking in a mirror. Even the dark blue of his eyes was correct.
Eian was stunned. Who was this woman who’d painted his portraits? The notation above the signature on the large painting read: Eian MacGregor, brooding. The other one said: Eian MacGregor, surprised. They were signed Elsabetta Finlay and dated nine and eight years prior, respectively.
****
Since his curiosity had been piqued, Eian remained nearby, listening as the older couple spoke to each other. He also paid attention to the conversation flowing around him when the young man from the village arrived to help hang the two paintings.
“I brought this write-up from the paper so you’d know what the press is saying about her,” Toby, who’d come from the village five miles away, told them. He handed the paper to Malcolm. Ida scooted nearer her husband and listened raptly as he read the article aloud.
Moving in behind the couple, Eian tuned their rough voices out and read from over their shoulders. The title of the article read, “Elsabetta Finlay Mourns the Loss of Her Marriage and Her Husband”
The article described how that the twenty-six year old artist had been married to writer, Duncan Morland, for five years. There was speculation about the couple’s relationship since the two were last seen dining with longtime friend, Catherine Paulson, the evening of Mr. Morland’s death.
"Ms. Paulson, already a widow, was killed with Mr. Morland when her executive jet crashed upon landing in Las Vegas. A suite had been reserved for Mr. Morland and a guest at Harrah’s of Las Vegas. Sources confirm that Mr. Morland and his wife had filed for a Summary Dissolution of Marriage and it was to be effective within two weeks."
According to the article, Ms. Finlay could not be reached for comment. Her publicist had read a statement that the couple had parted amicably. As Ms. Finlay and Ms. Paulson were good friends, Ms. Finlay was now grieving for the loss of not one, but two people who were dear to her.
The picture that accompanied the article was fuzzy and showed a good-looking man and two women in opera garb. The two young ladies seemed attractive enough but Eian couldn’t really tell. Photographs were so shallow in his opinion…
Following closely after the older couple and Toby, Eian noted that they had readied the master chamber for Elsabetta and hung his smaller portrait in that room. He’d suspected that the older man and his wife were servants but it hadn’t seemed important enough to pay attention. It seemed that he was right, since they lived in the servants’ quarters below-stairs while the intriguing Elsabetta occupied the quarters set aside for the castle’s laird.
~~~
Eian watched her from the moment she’d arrived. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. For reasons he couldn’t name, he hid as if Elsabetta could see him. Anyone who could paint his portrait so perfectly made him nervous.
“Bòidheach” he groaned when he first saw her. Beautiful. She wasn’t so small that he feared a good wind would blow her away. In fact, she had the kind of curves he’d always admired in a woman.
Elsabetta Finlay—a fair name for a stunning woman. Her curvaceous body was soft and round and would fill his arms perfectly. She had long, wavy, chestnut-colored hair that would hang to her rounded and plush rear end when not restrained in a French braid as it was now, hanging just above the small of her back.
“Bòidheach,” he murmured again, not paying attention to his surroundings.
He was standing in a doorway further down the hall and she whipped around as if she’d heard him. He stepped back, surprised. All this time, no one else had seen or heard him, regardless of his attempts to make himself known. But this woman, this Elsebetta, had heard him from down the hall.
Ida and Malcolm, thrilled to have her there, took her on a tour of the house, showing her the changes that time had wrought in her absence. She paused for quite awhile in front of the large painting of Eian over the fireplace in the den.
He stayed nearby as Malcolm approached her with questions and problems. Many of those living upon MacGregor lands looked to her for help and support as Lady and owner of the castle. She was able to address quite a few of the needs presented to her but, in time, she begged Malcolm to bring these problems to her the next day. Malcolm understood that she was tired and in need of rest.
She needed him. Eian knew it clearly. She wanted to help the people who depended on MacGregor castle, but she was overwhelmed. He could have told Malcolm what to do instantly in every case he’d presented Elsabetta with. It didn’t matter that times had changed. Governing his people wasn’t that much different now from when he’d been living.
When Malcolm left her, she buried her face in her arms and wept like a brokenhearted child. Eian couldn’t help himself. He stepped behind her and stroked her hair until she dozed. As his hand moved over the silken chestnut locks, he stopped in mid-stroke.
He could feel her. He could feel the texture of her hair. What was going on? She’d heard his voice. She’d seen his likeness enough to paint him. Now he could feel her hair beneath his fingers.
Eian dropped his hand and backed away. He bumped a small table, and shocking him completely, it shook with the blow. He’d felt the edge of the table. The girl’s sleepy head moved toward the rattling sound of the jostled table.
“Wha…?” she mumbled. Not knowing what else to do, Eian turned and fled the room.
*
Elsabetta was glad to be home, but she was so tired. Duncan had helped her in the past when problems arose among the people of Gregorstac Isle. It wasn’t that she didn’t know enough about the needs of her people – it was that she was too soft.
She wanted to be fair to everybody. Sighing, she walked out to the verandah to look over the grassy park that led to the cliffs.