Page 30 of Laird of Twilight
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The wolfhound was growling.
Elspeth woke, quick and alert, hearing Osgar’s low rumble. The hour must be very late, she thought, the darkness quiet and deep. The sounds of the storm had faded. “What is it, Osgar?” she asked.
The dog padded to the side of the bed to stare at her through the darkness. He sat back on his haunches, whimpering. She reached out to pat his head, then lay down and tried to find sleep again.
The bed was soft, the pillows plump, the linens cool and fresh, she was exceedingly comfortable, yet she could not sleep. A sound, faint through the walls, sounded like her name. Sitting up, she saw the room lit only by sparse light of the peat fire, flickering blue-gold, all else in shadow. Had Lord Struan called her first name, or knocked? It made no sense.
Eilidh...
The sound was soft, echoing slightly.Eilidh....
Osgar whimpered again and began to pace impatiently around the room. Gasping, Elspeth drew her knees to her chest, still and silent. In a corner of the room, she saw flitting lights—a pale green glow, a shimmering blue, a streak of violet. Sitting up, she thought the fire’s reflection danced on some surface. Then she saw a cluster of shapes form in that same corner—tall, graceful contours, heads and shoulders, long draped robes.
Shivers rose along her neck, arms. “Who is there?” she called.
Eilidh...The shadows and lights moved closer.
Ghosts? She felt chilled all over.
Glow and blur coalesced, and she saw a hand reaching toward her. She scrambled off the bed, leaping away. Pain stabbed through her ankle and she cried out, leaning on the edge of the bed, staring toward the corner.
“Who are you?” she asked hoarsely. Turning, she snatched up the plaid from a chair and went to the door, heart pounding. The dog bumped against her, as hasty as she to get out of the room. She gripped his collar and looked back.
The light had vanished. She sighed. But she did not want to get back in the bed and opened the door instead.
Thunder rolled and mingled with a distant patter of hoofbeats. The riding? She shuddered.
Osgar gave a loudwoofand stood tall, ears pricking. Elspeth heard the name again—Eilidhin soft chorus—and fearedtheyhad come for her, as Grandda said.
“Leave me be!” she gasped, and ran, limping, into the dark corridor. She only knew she must escape that room. Remembering with relief that she was not alone, she limped along the hall, wondering which door belonged to Lord Struan. Finding a set of double doors, she knocked.
No answer. She knocked again. A crash of thunder shook the walls, and she shrieked, opening the door and stepping inside. In firelight and darkness, the room was empty, the bed undisturbed. Osgar bumped against her hip as she turned and ran out.
Holding the dog’s collar, she hobbled along the shadowy corridor toward the main staircase. Perhaps Struan was working in his study. She had to find him, not only because she could not bear to be alone, but because he could be under threat as well if what her grandfather said was true.
How could she explain to Struan that the wildfolk had appeared in her room, that she had heard the pounding of horses’ hooves outside the walls? The Fey rode tonight. They knew she was here, inside Struan House. How could she say that—or even believe it herself?
She stopped, gasping. Either she was going a little mad in the middle of the night, hearing just thunder and rain, or her grandfather’s tales were true.
Deep down, she knew this was not her own madness. Were the locks made of true iron, just in case? Had Struan shut the house as he had promised? She went down the stairs as quickly as her ankle would allow. Her heart was slamming.
Eilidh…Soft as a whisper of wind.
That was her fairy name, the one her grandfather said she must never use herself, for the power of it. A crack of lightning came so suddenly that she leaped, shrieked. A blue-white light filled the stairway. The dog hastened ahead of her, whining, to reach the main floor first.
She heard her name whispered again. She froze, then hurried on, not daring to glance over her shoulder.
Never look behind you in a fairy-held place, her grandfather had said,for at that moment they will have you.
The light flared again, lengthened to human shape. She screamed.
Chapter 8
Ashriek, just as lightning blazed through the windows. James jumped to his feet, then ran from the study into the hallway. The terriers ran barking alongside him. That had been no banshee.Elspeth. Alarmed, he rounded the corner toward the stairs just as the wolfhound hurtled past him. A ghostly figure in white followed.
He stepped forward and the slender wraith leaped at him, arms looping about his neck. “What in blazes! Elspeth!”
