Page 107 of Laird of Twilight
“Aye! So, Jamie, you found yourself a Highland bride after all,” Fiona said, taking her twin’s arm.
“And one with fairy blood.” James put his arm around Elspeth.
Fiona laughed. “Grandmother would be so pleased!”
“More than you know,” James said. “I think she wanted our family to discover its fairy roots again, and that is why she created the conditions in her will.”
“Come now, you do not believe in fairies any more than I do,” Patrick said.
“I am not so certain now, I confess,” James said.
“Grandmother’s book has changed your mind?” Fiona asked.
“I have learned a great deal,” James said.
“I must read this book of fairies,” Fiona said. “Come inside. Soon you will both feel quite normal again.”
“Normal sounds excellent,” James said. He laughed, and tightened his arm around Elspeth, ducking to give her brow a kiss. “Are you ready to go inside?”
Looking up at him, Elspeth felt a swift rush of happiness, of weariness, of love, mingled together. “I am, Lord Struan. I am.”
Epilogue
December 1822
“We cannot fit another blasted thing into that old carriage,” James said, stepping back to survey the landau, packed full of belongings, most not his own. His breaths misted in the chilly air, and his boot heels crunched on the snow-pack along the drive. “We may have to take two carriages. Are you sure the loom is necessary?”
“Aye,” Elspeth said, walking beside him. “If we are agreed to spend the winter in Edinburgh so you can finish your lecture series, then I must have my loom to keep me occupied, or I shall be bored to tears.” She smiled impishly, beautifully, looking at him from under the brim of her dark green velvet bonnet, her gloved hands cozied inside the ermine muff he had given her last week for Christmas.
Under her left-hand glove, she wore the amethyst ring he had commissioned for their wedding in November. He knew she loved it for the joy it represented, for its sparkle, and for its secret fairy origin.
“Bored to tears!” He laughed, feeling good-natured despite the dismantled loom precariously strapped to the back of the landau, where MacKimmie had secured it for the long journey. Lady Rankin would no doubt call them gypsies when they arrived at James’s Edinburgh house, be that as it may. He drew Elspeth into his arms. “I can think of ways to keep you occupied, none of them boring.” He nuzzled her cheek, which bloomed pink from the cold.
“I would like that,” she murmured. “But you will be busy with lectures and writing and your beloved rocks. What will I do without my loom and my work?”
“Lucie Graham will drag you off to teas and parties, excited to introduce her dear cousin as the new Lady Struan. You will have little time for your craft.”
“Once word gets around that the eccentric Lady Struan would rather sit home and weave than attend parties, there will be very few invitations.”
“Nonsense. The eccentric, unique, brilliant, and ravishingly beautiful Lady Struan,” he said, “will make weaving a new rage among the ladies of Edinburgh.”
She laughed. “I am also bringing the loom so that I can finish a plaid for my husband. It is Highland custom. Truly it should be woven in a Highland home, but it is not done yet, and so we will make an exception.”
“You are always the exception, my girl,” he murmured.
“Remember you promised that we will be back at Struan House by spring, and stay there until winter comes again. Hopefully the handsome and very smart Lord Struan will find enough to do there until the university opens in September.”
“I will have more than enough to do on the estate, after being away the winter. Angus MacKimmie will do a fine job taking care of things until then. He is looking into having that old bridge repaired in the spring.” He nodded to Angus, who nodded back, busy tying the last of the luggage to the back of the vehicle. “Elspeth, I have been thinking,” James said more seriously. “This may be my last semester of lectures for a little while.”
“Is it so? But you love it.”
“I have a good deal of research to do to write my new geology book.”
“So we might live year-round at Struan?”
“We will still need to go south now and then, to be pragmatic about it.”
“You are always pragmatic,” she said, and pouted a little, teasing him.
