Page 47 of Laird of Twilight
“Now and again it is a relief, and a joy, to share something private. It takes trust. So I thank you.” Her glance was clear, steady, perceptive. He felt once again as if she understood him better than anyone, perhaps even his sister.
“Not everyone is trustworthy,” he murmured. He wanted very much to trust Elspeth, he realized. Secrets indeed, he thought. He had plenty, and so did she.
“Do you remember your parents?” she asked.
“I have some good memories. But I try not to think of them. It is best that way, I find.” He preferred to avoid the sharp sense of loss that struck him whenever he opened the door to those memories. His father had been calm, fair, kind. Sometimes the smell of lavender and the sound of a gentle laugh would remind him of his mother. He did not let himself think of them often.
“Lavender,” Elspeth said suddenly. “Do you smell it? It’s lovely.”
Startled, he looked away from her. “No.”
“I wonder where it came from.” She shrugged. “I have no siblings,” she went on, “nor do I know much about my parents. Grandfather says little about them. My father was an artist, I know that. Losing Niall hurt Grandda deeply. But to me, they are only shadows. Sometimes I dream about them, and then I wonder if they were actually like the parents who appear in my dreams.”
“I would think your dreams, in particular, are quite accurate.”
She smiled brightly. “But sir, you do not believe in such things!”
“A little, when it comes to you.” He looked at the painting again. A detail caught his attention. “Did your mother model for your father? One of the girls looks like you. There,” he said, pointing.
“Truly?” With a delighted gasp, she rose on tiptoe to see, but was unsteady on her injured ankle. James took her arm in quick support. “Oh, I see! This one—and others too, that one, and that—they all have dark hair like mine.”
“And their faces have the same delicate shape as yours. Look at the one on the left. There is enough detail to see that her eyes are pale gray, like yours.”
She continued to smile. “Do you think it could be her?”
“The shape of her face”—he swept his fingers gently along her cheek—“Aye. There is a resemblance.” Touching her was heaven. He lifted her chin with his fingers, leaned close. She smelled wonderful, cool rain and warm woman, and aye, lavender somehow. Comforting. Joyful, if he could go so far as that.
Her fingers tightened on his arm. “Do you think he did paint her? I know so little of her. The circumstances were...unusual.”
“I see.” Perhaps she meant illegitimacy or a dispute between families. “If that is her, she was a beauty, and you favor her.”
“Thank you,” she breathed. “You have given me a gift, something of my parents I did not have before.” Resting a hand on his lapel, she rose and kissed his cheek.
He drew in a quick breath at the tender gesture. He set a hand to her waist and drew her gently toward him, tentative, nose against hers, breath touching—and then a kiss. He felt her return it fully. The pull of it threatened to overcome him.
Elspeth sighed, melted against him, slid her hand up, over his shoulder, along his collar. But she pulled away. “I must go,” she whispered, eyes still closed.
“You need not,” he said, kissing her brow, her hair, savoring.
“I do,” she murmured, pulling back. But she did not break away, only resting her hands on his chest and gazing up at him, still caught in his arms. He could have lost himself in those eyes, silvery pools with something, aye, magical in them.
“I must go, if the roads allow. Grandda and Peggy Graham will worry about me otherwise. I am sorry to have been such trouble to you. Truly, I am grateful. And truly, you do not need to marry me.”
“I would certainly feel better about all of this if I did marry you. I think both of us would find it rather convenient.”
She blinked, then turned her face away. “I need time to think.”
Was that progress? He hoped so. “In a few days, Lady Rankin will arrive with family and friends to tour the Highlands. They have...certain expectations of me.”
“Is your sister coming as well? I would like to see her again.”
“My sister and our youngest brother will be here. Miss Sinclair plans to accompany them as well. You may remember her.”
“The one who set her cap for you? And your aunt seems to favor that.”
“Perhaps, but I am not keen on the match.”
“Miss Sinclair is lovely, and she is part of Edinburgh's social circles. A wealthy heiress, so I heard. She would be an ideal wife for you.”
