Free Laird of the Mist by Foery MacDonell Page B

afternoon.‖
Carrick nodded and swallowed his egg. ―Aye, I do,‖ he answered. ―‗Tis safe in the room.‖
―Good.‖ Hamish sat back in his chair.―Our Olivia is a brilliant forger, what with the help of a computer. Put her art to good use, I say. Ye do remember,‖ he continued,―ye must go to Inverness and obtain a passport. We were lucky to get ye into the country, but ye shall no leave again without it.‖
―I understand.‖ Carrick smiled at the memory of Olivia creating a birth certificate for him. They had used Cat‘s, for she had been born in Scotland. Being that she was only one year younger than Carrick, the documents would have been contemporary in format. The new birth certificate read Carrick Alasdair MacDonell , and listed his birth date as February 8, 1983, instead of February 8, 1721.
―Look!‖ Cat pointed toward the window.―There‘s a deer underneath the apple tree where we are going to have the ceremony!‖
―A good omen, to be sure.‖ Carrick kissed her hand.
―It certainly is,‖ Hamish agreed as they watched the graceful animal graze.
―So grandda.‖ Olivia nudged him. ―What‘s in that long box you brought on the plane? When will you stop being so mysterious?‖
―In good time, Olivia.‖ He smiled at her.―Everything in good time.‖
    They spent the rest of the morning exploring the expansive grounds of Glengarry Castle Hotel. The four of them walked down to the dock and enjoyed the music of the loch lapping against the shore. Then they wandered through the dense forest which skirted the grounds, stopping to examine particular plants, or listen to a bird singing in a fir tree.
    The wedding was set for one o ‘clock, so after a quick lunch, Olivia joined Cat in her room to help her dress.
―This is a gorgeous ensemble, Cat.‖ Olivia held the green velvet stays up to herself, admiring it in the mirror.―Not white though.‖ Laying the stays aside, she picked up and shook out the full skirt.
―No,‖ Cat answered brushing her long hair over her shoulder.―I wanted something more to Carrick‘s time. White wasn‘t a wedding color then. Besides, I look good in that shade of green. And I love the arisaidh in the Donell tartan.‖
―Yes, you look gorgeous in that color,‖ Olivia agreed, helping Cat into the full skirt, and stays, then lacing up the back.―It fits you perfectly.And it‘s just right with your eyes and the flowers.‖
Cat swirled the arisaidh over her shoulders and pinned it in the front with a Donell clan brooch, with its single raven in the center. It formed a cape-like effect. The blues, greens, and reds of the intricate Donell tartan gleamed against the deep green of the stays and skirt.
Cat had wanted it simple. An elegant Highland outfit, unbound hair, and a bouquet of freshly picked heather, red roses, thyme, and Hawthorne blossoms from near the castle. Olivia wove some delicate heather into Cat‘s hair. When she finished, she stood back to view her sister.
―You are so beautiful.‖ Olivia‘s eyes were misting.―You have a kind of glow about you.‖
―Thank you, Olivia.‖ Cat hugged her, her own eyes a bit dewy.―It‘s time to go,‖ she said, breaking the embrace at the knock on the door.
―As the door opened, Hamish caught sight of Cat in her gown. With a proud smile, he extended his arm to her.―Ye‘re a lovely bride, Caitriona.I‘m happy I‘m giving ye to the right man,‖ he said with a small crack in his voice and lead her down the stairs and through to the terraced lawns beyond. There, under the apple tree where they had seen the deer, Carrick waited for her with the Reverend Watson.
Hamish had arranged for the priest to come from St. John‘s, an Episcopal church in Ballachulish, near Glencoe. Carrick was a Glencoe descendant. He and his family were Episcopalian, as was Cat.
As they neared the tree, Cat caught her breath. Carrick was in his great kilt and lace-trimmed shirt, his auburn hair tied back with a velvet ribbon. His eyes