The heat in the apartment was still stifling so that, despite having all the windows open and the short lived cooling effects of the shower, she dozed only fitfully. When she did close her eyes it was impossible to keep the memory of her vision at bay. It replayed itself over and over again in her brain, accompanied by an acute sense of impending doom. After a couple of hours of tossing and turning she decided that she was obviously not going to get any sleep so she got up and focused instead on unpacking her belongings. She set up the computer on the desk. Put the books out on the shelves searched for the disks containing the notes she was in the process of writing for her first lectures, and the manuscript of yet another book, and then set out to get her bearings around the campus. Finally having called in at the library to present the librarian with a copy of the class reading list and purchased some food, to stock her cupboard, at the small self service store she went back to her rooms and dressed for her dinner 'date'.
She chose black chinos, a blue silk shirt over a cream camisole top and black ankle boots..might as well be comfortable as well as stylish she had decided....better not let him think she was a tourist's dream Celt she grinned. She had dressed for first impressions this morning and she knew that the effect had been to pigeonhole her as a quintessential representative of all things Celtic...it had been her aim after all..but effects were only needed for those occasions when you needed to convince people that you could handle the job despite being so young. She had learned that early on in Cambridge, bastion of tradition that it was women were not readily given advancement and young women even less so. She had had to fight tooth and claw for recognition amongst the older more fuddy duddy members of the teaching staff. At least that did not seem as if it were going to be the case here. Taking a box from the last packing case she took one final look around before setting out for De Salvo's.
The day was finally cooling a little. Arriving at the building on the dot of six she entered the gym and was told that Duncan was in the office. He was sat at the desk reading some papers as she knocked at the open door. He glanced up and smiled when he saw who it was.
"Hi, am I too early?" she asked.
"No, not at all," he replied, taking in her appearance. 'So,' he thought wryly, ' not above dressing for a part.' And she had been playing a part this morning undoubtedly. What he needed to know was how much of a part and for what purpose.
"I'm done here." He said, laying the papers down. "What do you say to home cooked lasagna?"
"You cooked?" She was flushing again she knew . "I am honoured."
"Least I could do for a long lost cousin." He smiled. "This way." he said and directed her to the service elevator.
Duncan busied himself in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to the meal, whilst Catriona sat on the couch and looked around the loft appreciatively. There was no doubting the fact that this man had taste - expensive tastes she noted - but there was no sign of ostentation anywhere. The entire apartment exuded comfort and she found herself really beginning to relax for the first time in over three days. She hadn't realised quite how tense the effort of packing her life up (such as it was) and moving to another continent would make her.
Eventually Duncan came to join her on the couch. Suddenly she felt nervous. She hadn't been on her own with a man since...'NO' she shoved that memory away hard 'I will not think of that' she thought. Some of what she felt must have shown on her face for Duncan looked at her, suddenly concerned.
"Catriona?" He said gently. "Are you all right? You look as if you were about to take flight."
Catriona laughed nervously. "Och, I'm sorry Duncan. It's naething really." She reassured him, her accent growing suddenly stronger.
Duncan looked at her quizzically. He knew his own accent thickened when he was feeling caught up in any sort of emotional turmoil. It was obvious to him that Catriona was strung fairly tightly at the moment. There were things he needed to know, but he had time to wait he decided, his chivalrous side taking control. So instead of asking further questions he smiled at her.
"OK then, dinner is almost done, what do you say to some wine?" He offered.
"That would be lovely, thank you." She replied. Then suddenly she remembered the box she had brought with her.
"Oh God! Where are my manners?" She groaned. "I brocht ye a present, and here I've sat with it this long time. Whatever'll ye think o' me?"
He smiled to hear the lilt in her voice. " A present? For me?"
"Aye, well ye ken it was really pairt o' a present tae me frae ma uncle, but I have plenty mair tae hame an I thocht ye'd appreciate it." She handed him the box she'd carried in with her.
Duncan took the box and opened it, puzzled and intrigued. Inside there were two, well packed, single malt whiskies. He raised an eyebrow. "A Talisker and a Dalwhinnie! That's a nice present, are you sure you really want to part with them?"
"Aye Duncan, they're all yours." She laughed. "Ma Uncle John gave me a case of each, a taste of the hielands to keep me from being homesick he said. I'll never drink them all in a month of Sundays. Truth to tell I think he thocht I'd use them as gifts for colleagues as much as for personal use. Ye're more than welcome to them. Besides, after the shock I gave ye this morning I think ye deserve them."
'So.' The subject having now been broached lightly he was suddenly loathe to begin interrogating her, instead he rose. "Aye," he said, "thank you fair cousin for your fine gift." He bowed. "I think I'd better serve dinner before it 's no longer fit to eat. We can talk about the other things later."
"That's fine Duncan." Catriona agreed, and she began to relax again as the ordeal of explaining herself was put off for a while.
They ate the excellent meal, during which Catriona described the new exhibition at Dunvegan and the hilarious conduct of some of the youngsters at the last ceilidh she'd attended at the hotel in Glenfinnan. Duncan was an appreciative audience. After clearing the dishes they returned once more to the couch.
'Now for the moment of truth' she thought, and suddenly she decided the only way to approach the subject was head on.
"Duncan," she said "I've things I need to tell you, and the only way I can do it is straight out. I know you'll want to ask questions, but please hear me out first OK?" She looked at him anxiously, awaiting his response.
"Be my guest," he said " I promise to listen first and ask questions later."
Catriona nodded slowly. Now that the time had come she seemed unsure how to begin. She looked at the floor and took a deep breath 'Now or never' she thought.
She began hesitantly "Well I...."
"Just take your time," Duncan said encouragingly.
Catriona sighed and then getting a firmer grip she started again.
"You know who I am and where I come from. You also know about my reorganisation of the Clan archives at Dunvegan. I don't know if you've ever seen any of the documents there, but you should know that almost every event in the history of the Clan is recorded in writing and sketches - and has been for at least the last seven hundred years. Some of the records are considered to be no more than fairy stories by some people, but I have always had a very healthy respect for all that our ancestors chose to write down. When I was a young girl, about five years old my uncle caught me leafing through the records of the sixteenth century. I was reading an account of the life and times of one of the Clan Chiefs, Ian MacLeod. There was a drawing of his wife and of their son. Your picture Duncan. I've seen it every day in my memory since then. At five years old I was too young to understand the words on the page fully. When I came to reorganise the archives, however, I was far more aware of the implications of the story of your death and resurrection. I might have taken it as a fantasy still but for two things. One was the very similar account of the death and recovery of Connor MacLeod almost one hundred years prior to your own. The second thing ...." She faltered again but recovered to continue with a question. "Do you believe in the sight Duncan?"
Duncan looked at her squarely. " I do," he said, "and this is part of the reason you know about me?"
"It is." She confirmed, breathing more easily now that that part was done with. "I have the sight Duncan, not just random premonitions of doom or good fortune. I trained fully in all the bardic arts. My mother was a descendent of Mairi Mhic Leoid, the poet/bard. Most people don't realise she was also a seer and a Druid, as am I." There, she'd said it now, 'wait for the denial' she thought.
Duncan did not attempt to deny it, however, nor did he look at her with anything less than respect. "So that explains nearly all but there's something more isn't there?" He questioned gently.
"Aye Duncan there's more, are you sure you don't have the gift yourself?" She paused again and then told him the details of the vision she'd had almost one month ago in the waters of the Loch.
He listened carefully and then asked her a question. "Did you ever see the third man before?"
"No never," she replied, "but I have seen him in my dreams every night since, and the woman has haunted my dreams for the last year. I have no idea who they are, but I do know that I will recognise them when I meet them, and I will meet them. One thing is for sure Duncan, the vision was a portent of things to come and we will all be there. The only thing I don't know yet is when, or what I am supposed to do about any of it."
" I shouldn't worry about it too much then," said Duncan "if you are meant to know in advance you will, if not you'll have to react as you see fit at the time."
He couldn't help feeling rather disturbed by what Catriona told him. He hadn't seen Connor in a few years. His visits were rare and usually only occurred when there was some trouble brewing. What Catriona had told him surely indicated that more trouble was on the way. He tried to think who the others in the vision might be, but came up short. In the meantime he needed to be sure Catriona understood the importance of keeping his secret.
Catriona had been watching her 'cousin' carefully as he listened to her tale and was now sure that she knew what he was going to ask her, so she interrupted him to let him know he needn't be concerned.
"Duncan, you need not worry that I will ever relate this to another living soul without your permission. I do understand that one cannot go around advertising immortality. People don't react well to the unknown. I should know, I learned my lesson over that when I was first at university. Druidic arts are fine as an academic study to most people, but giving an intimation of being involved in actual practices and of being able to 'see' things that hadn't yet happened didn't earn me any prizes with many people. I know when to keep my mouth shut and my head down."
Duncan watched her as she spoke and saw the pain behind the last of those words. He thought he could understand something of that himself. He also decided that he could trust her to keep her word. There was something in her manner that backed up her words absolutely.
"I believe you Catriona, and I'll hold you to that promise, but I know you'll keep your word." He said. He grinned at her suddenly. "This morning when I first saw you I thought you'd walked out of one of those Victorian picture books."
Catriona threw her head back and laughed. It was a rich musical sound. She shook with laughter until her eyes streamed. "Oh God!' She choked. "You must've wondered what the hell was going on. I did it deliberately of course..first impressions and all that, but you must've been dying to laugh all morning."
"Oh I was laughing inside," he assured her, "I was amused to see you looking like such a sidhe"
"Ah Duncan, ye should not wonder at that at all, after all remember the Clan legend, the legend of the flag, and our alliance with the fairy horde. With ancestors among them how could we not look like them sometimes?" She smiled and he joined in her laughter.
The evening was certainly looking up she decided, and she felt as though she was going to enjoy her time in Seacouver.