Page 34 of Laird of Twilight
The riders. There. TheSidheof old, just there, gliding past on horseback.
Her imagination? She breathed out, in, held it. Gripped the dog’s collar. Osgar stood silent and stiff beside her.
Some called them the Seelie Court—a marvel, a vision, she saw them emerge sparkling out of the mist, tall men and slender women who sat their horses elegantly. They were impossibly beautiful, the glitter and spark of their jeweled clothing like webs of light and fire. Their cloaks and garments, a rainbow of color hemmed with gold and gems. The reins in their hands were bejeweled too. Their hair, set with filaments of gold and silver, softly curled, sun-gold or night-black, braided and beribboned. Rings flashed on their fingers, buckles glinted on belts and shoes. Their eyes glowed like crystal, blue, green, amber.
As they approached she saw magical symbols embroidered in shining threads on hems and saddles. Tiny silver bells, dangling on harnesses and braided in the horses’ manes, chimed soft and clear in the night.
In the lead rode a woman, with a man and another woman riding to either side of her. Others followed, seven riders in all, with an empty saddled horse. They meant to bring someone back with them this night.
A cold chill flooded through Elspeth. This was real. She was seeing this. And they had come for her. She knew it like the certainty of stars and sunlight, fire and earth. Shivers plunged through her. A dream? Could it be, and so vivid?
She stepped back into the shadows as the cavalcade headed toward the back gardens of Struan House. They would soon pass the very place where Elspeth stood watching, half-hidden beneath an ancient oak tree. A stone wall stood between her and the riders. They came at a steady pace.
She flattened her back against the oak, sheltered beneath its dripping leaves, and watched the riders pass clean through the stone wall as if it was not there, as if they were nothing but mist. Their gait made a kind of music, clip-clop and bell ring, with the sighing of the wind.
Even as Elspeth shrank against the tree trunk, the fey lady in the lead turned her head, saw her, angled the horse toward her.There! Come to us, Dear One....
They were close now, nearly abreast with her where she stood under the tree, horses passing slowly, the boughs of the oak trees shaking in the storm winds. The lady, beautiful in green and gold, pale hair streaming like moonlight, reached out her arm and beringed hand. Elspeth shrank back.
Yet she felt a strong tug, nearly irresistible. She thought of James, disbelieving and unaware of the threat, and she clung to the tree. The true Sidhe—if such these were—could steal the very soul from a human.
Come with us,they said in a melodious sing-song, and she felt the pull again.
The dark-haired lady, near her now, reached out again.Sweet One, join us!
Unable to stop herself—she felt drawn to this fairy woman, more so than the pale-haired lady—Elspeth lifted her arms. She felt herself losing strength against their thrall. The outdoors was their domain, the earth, the trees, the rain, the wind, the rocks, the air. Here, their power was strong. Her hand was up, the fairy reached out. She heard music in the rain, smelled the scent of flowers despite the storm, and then she felt herself lifting on her toes—
“Elspeth!”
His voice cut briskly through the wind and the music. She looked around to see James running toward her. Forcing herself to step back from the riders, she whirled. And somehow bolted toward him over the wet lawn, crossing just in front of the cavalcade as it moved toward the house.
A moment later she heard horse hooves behind her, beside her as the riders came close.Dear One, wait! Eilidh….
“Elspeth, here!” James was not far now, running, waving. The riders passed Elspeth, and in an almost fickle way, headed for the man. “I’m here!” he called.
“James, no!” She ran toward him. The riders moved, clopping hooves and silver bells. When they reached James, the lady in the lead beckoned to him.
Come with me,she called.
Elspeth saw him pause, look up at the Fey. The wind blew at his coat, his hair. Then he reached up. A mist seemed to envelop him and the horses.
“No!” She ran toward him, reaching out to grab James fervently, so that he stumbled back, turned, wrapped his arms around her. The horses were but an arm’s length away, their riders reaching down toward both of them now. Elspeth spun James around, to turn him away from the riders, wind whipping hard as she tucked her face against his shoulder. Grabbing her plaid, bringing up her arm, she covered both their heads best she could. The Fey lingered in the mist, calling out again.
Come with us.
On impulse, Elspeth took James’s face in her hands to keep him from looking around. Then she kissed him, hard and desperate, gasping against his warm, pliant, responsive lips, pressing against him along the length of her body, as he caught her to him, held her close.
“No, no, you shall not have him,” she whispered frantically.
Chapter 9
The kiss deepened, his lips opening with hers. Then he took it over, hands cupping her face. Elspeth held tight, determined to keep him from turning his head to glimpse the Seelie Court and the magical lady who wanted to take both of them away.
“Hold tight, hold me tight,” she whispered between kisses.
In the fairy lore her grandfather had taught her, she had learned that a loved one could be saved from the fairies by a fast embrace, by never letting go, never looking back, until the danger passed.
As James kissed her, she sank against him, feeling as if a whirlwind spun around them. Her hair whipped free, his fingers threading into the strands as he tilted her head back and renewed the kiss with hunger and wildness. The wind shoved them, turned them, yet Elspeth strived to keep him from looking toward the riders.
