“I’ve got the aisle,” the second twin said.

Jordan smiled. “If you two want to sit together, I’m happy to—”

“No, dear. She needs the window or she’ll get sick. I like the aisle. Closer to the restroom.”

Jordan tried not to imagine either sister having trouble on their long flight and hoped for the best. Thankfully, neither woman asked her what she’d been doing in Scotland. And even though they were a little on the quiet side, they kept her entertained with their fussing.

One turned the air on and aimed the little nozzle toward her face. The other one shivered, pulled a small plaid blanket from her bag, and used it to cover her arms and chest. For the first little while, each sister seemed to do the opposite of the other.

When the drink cart came along, however, everything changed. They wanted the same drink, the same snack. They both asked for earphones and a pillow. They turned on their little televisions at the same time and flipped through the options. Eventually, the one on the left landed on a movie and started it.

The one on Jordan’s right was watching exactly the same movie, but about two seconds ahead.

It was impossible not to watch them both. Even though Jordan couldn’t hear the sound, she was compelled to watch one screen for a few seconds, then turn and look at the other, watching the same thing happen all over again.

She was completely engrossed in the old movie before she realized it was a musical. And not just any musical, but that mocking Brigadoon!

Nothing would sound so idiotic as asking the people sitting next to you on a plane to please stop watching their movie and chose another one—just to keep you from bawling your eyes out. So Jordan’s only option was to not bawl her eyes out!

She pulled an eye mask out of her bag, slipped it on, and leaned back, telling herself to sleep. She pretended the sisters were watching The Shining, a movie she hated, and thought about how nice it would be to sleep in her own bed again. To eat regular American food again. To not strain to understand someone’s Scottish accent every time she interacted.

But one of the sisters had her volume up loud enough for an eighty-year-old, and Jordan could hear, barely, a song about heather on a hillside.

Light peeked beneath her mask and if she tilted her head back just a little, she could see the screen. Gene Kelly and that Fiona chick were dancing on the hillside. Very dramatic. Very…sappy. And if she turned her head, she could watch it all again.

Gah!

Though she pretended to sleep, Jordan was very aware when the show reached the point where the village was going to sleep, and the mist would be coming to take it away. A horrible lump of dread rose from her stomach and lodged in her chest as she watched the fictional couple say good-bye.

But he didn’t have to say goodbye. Gene Kelly was leaving Fiona because his friend needed him. Their quick romance had only been skin-deep after all. It had never reached his heart. “It’s the hardest thing in the world to give everything,” said Mr. Lundie, the little Scotsman in charge of the town. “Though it’s usually the only way to get everything.”

And Kerry had tried to explain—he had nothing left to give…

Jordan dug out a pair of earplugs, asked the stewardess for a blanket, then tossed it over her head so no more light and no more singing could seep into her brain. It didn’t matter if Kerry had been taken away by magic or a city bus. All that mattered was that he was gone. It was over. And there was a new set of photos she wouldn’t be able to look at without it ripping her heart out.       

~ ~ ~

The previous day…

Walking away from Jordan was like trying to cross Culloden Moor in knee-deep mud. Every drop of blood, every bit of flesh on his body told him not to do it. But there was no sense fighting a Muir witch. There was a bargain involved, and Soni had fulfilled her part of the bargain. Now it was Kerry’s turn to leave his mortal life behind him, along with Culloden…and Jordan.

He stepped onto the bridge itself and ignored the urge to run back to the woman holding his heart in her hands. Wickham hailed him with a wave. Soni, dear Soni, would be walking out of the mist any moment…

“Soncerae allowed me to come in her stead, Mather. The lass has worn herself through these past months. As her family, we insisted she rest herself before she falls truly ill.”

Kerry nodded. “She did look weary when she came for me. I am pleased she has others looking after her.”

Wickham shook his hand and grasped his shoulder. “I’m pleased as well that ye understand. I’ve watched ye, now and again, with Miss Lennox. I wondered if a bit of mist on the bridge might work out for the best, let her see that there is magic at work here, that ye have no choice in the matter.”

“I hope it will.”

“One last wave, then, and we’ll be off. She’s a brave lass. Just look at her.”

Kerry moved to the side of the bridge, wishing he could jump off and tell Wickham to go to the devil. But a scene would do Jordan no good, and in the end, he’d be returned to spirit form and she’d be even more confused. They’d had so little time, he hadn’t wished to squander it on nonsensical explanations. Perhaps he should have.

She looked so forlorn, standing there in the grass, circled with pink heather…

Kerry felt the mist coming for him, swallowing him whole. A hand descended on his shoulder, then turned him, urging him into a darkness he chose not to fight. And, just as he’d expected, they were once again on the familiar moor. It was still daytime. The clouds hung low and gray. It smelled like snow.

“Wickham?”

“Aye?”

“I can still smell things.”

“Oh, aye. Ye’re mortal still.”

“Then why do these people not seem to notice me? Or ye?”

Wickham gave a sly laugh. “Because, Mather, I do not wish them to notice us.”

“If we are waiting on Prince Charles Edward Stuart, I have no desire to speak with the man.”

“Or poke him in the nose?”

“Or that. Just allow me to say my farewells to Soncerae, and I will go where I am expected.”

“Ye’ll forego yer boon?”

“Aye. But I’ll not forego Soni’s promise?”

“And just what did the lass promise?”

“That she would see me again. I tell ye, I shall not move on without it.”

Wickham’s head tilted to one side. “No doubt ye’d be happy to spend another day with Jordan Lennox, while ye wait for my niece to gain her strength.”

Kerry took a deep breath and shook his head as he let it out. “I would not put Jordan through another farewell. I have hurt her heart enough.”

“Well said of ye.” Wickham nodded. “Verra well. I will see ye to a place where ye can wait. It might be days, yet, before we agree she has rested enough.”

Kerry shrugged. “What could time mean to me now?”