She retched a bit more before rolling onto her hands and knees. Her hair, dark as a moonless night, fell forward to curtain her face. Her sodden clothes—an odd pair of trews and a shirt like a man’s—clung toher slim frame. She said nothing for several moments as she got a hold of herself but finally turned to face him, brushing the hair out of her eyes.
Cailean blinked. He didn’t recognize her and he woulddefinitelyhave remembered this woman. Around his own age, she had high cheek bones, smooth skin, and bright blue eyes that looked as big as saucers.
“I… I… I’m okay,” she gasped, her voice hoarse from swallowing seawater. “Thanks… for pulling… me out.”
“Ye are welcome, lass.”
He didn’t recognize her accent. Not Scots or Irish. She wasn’t a local then. No wonder he didn’t recognize her.
She looked around as if searching for something. “Where is she?”
“Where is who?”
The woman braced her hands on the sand and pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, turning her head this way and that. “Where did she go?”
Cailean clambered up, water dripping from his hair and down his chest. He looked around. There was nobody else in sight. “Who are ye looking for?”
“Lir, of course!” the woman cried as if this should be obvious. “She was here literally a moment ago. She’s the one who brought me here and I’ll be damned if I’ll let her just disappear on me without a so much as a by-your-leave!” She cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed, “Lir! Where are you! Come back here this instant!”
Cailean took a step closer. “Lass, there is nobody else here. Ye were alone when ye went into the water.”
She whirled to face him. “No, I wasn’t! I was with Lir! She can’t have just vanished!”
Cailean was struggling to keep up. “Lass, who are ye? And who is this Lir?”
“The one who brought me here. She said she was going to beingme to Barra but never mentioned anything about bringing me through time. Oh, Elise will never let me live this one down!”
Her words made no sense at all. Had she hit her head on a rock when she fell into the water?
He tried a different approach. “I’m Cailean MacNeil, laird of this island. What is yer name?”
This seemed to calm her a little. She blinked at him. “I’m Rose. Rose MacFinnan.”
He started in surprise. MacFinnan. He’d not heard that name in a long time. There had been no MacFinnans in the Kingdom of the Isles in centuries, but the name had taken on something of a legendary status. The magic that was said to protect the Isles had been created by MacFinnan spellweavers.
And then something else registered. Lir. Where had he heard that name before?
“How did ye get here?” he said, looking around warily. “I canna see any ship.”
“I didn’t come by ship. Or by air. Lir brought me. From the twenty-first century. She said you needed my help.”
Cailean stepped back. He felt suddenly as if the sand he was standing on was shifting beneath his feet. Lir.Nowhe recognized the name. She was said to be a goddess of the sea and once the patron goddess of the Isles. And she’d brought this woman from thefuture?
Rose MacFinnan. The goddess Lir. Everything slotted into place.
“You’re a MacFinnan spellweaver,” he breathed.
“That’s right,” she said, smiling wryly as she looked down at herself. “And what I want right now is to weave a spell that will dry my clothes. Unfortunately, I don’t know any clothes-drying spells. Not high on my ancestors’ lists of priorities, no doubt.”
Cailean did not reply. His thoughts were spinning.
A MacFinnan spellweaver.
Had Lir heard his plea? Had She brought this woman here to help them?
He hardened his heart. No. He hadnotasked Lir for help, nor did he want it. He and his people would find a way through this without the intervention of gods or spellweavers. He didn’t trust any of them. Where had the MacFinnan spellweavers been when the sickness started? Where had they been when children and oldsters fell ill?
Where were they when Mary died?
