Page 53 of Laird of Twilight
“The fairies did not take me, Grandda. I stayed safe at Struan House.”
Mrs. Graham approached then, and James was surprised to see the housekeeper receive a kiss on the cheek from the master. The three stood together in lively conversation. Donal set his arm around Elspeth, and Mrs. Graham put an arm around her too. They were linked, the three, snug, supportive, loving.
James pulled in a breath. He remembered the warmth of his own family, years ago, the love and affection of his mother, father, of siblings and kin; remembered joyful holidays, smiles, encouragement. He and his siblings still had some of that closeness, although they saw each other infrequently, and distance had grown.
Watching the MacArthurs, he felt the old loneliness returning. But that had no business affecting him now, he thought. He had learned to live with what was lost.
And so if Elspeth MacArthur would not marry him, he would be fine. He would survive that, too, he told himself. But he was not ready to give up the quest yet.
Donal MacArthur looked up then, meeting James’s gaze at the window, and nodded, lifting a hand. That silent greeting thanked him, acknowledged and included him. Elspeth looked up and smiled too. He felt the warmth of it. It was very like love.
Be careful, he told himself. Love was too easily lost. He stepped back, adjusted his cravat, and headed for the stairs.
* * *
Tea was supper after all, James discovered, a generous spread served in the dining room. He joined Elspeth and Mrs. Graham, and as they chatted, he glanced around the small, cozy room with its blue walls, creaking wooden floor, and aged but gleaming furnishings. The table was set with crisp white linens, delicate china dishes, and a silver service that even his fussy aunt would be proud to claim.
The fare was excellent: hot rolls and salted butter, cold sliced beef and lamb, rowan jelly and sweet custard, a variety of small cakes and biscuits, and a rich brew of steaming black tea. Mrs. Graham poured, encouraging Lord Struan to add cream and sugar and help himself liberally to whatever he liked.
His Aunt Rankin, James thought, might have to admit that the Highlands was not a crude and backward place at all, but quite civilized. She had maintained that opinion all her life, and had reluctantly sent her wards, James and Fiona, up to the Highlands to visit their grandparents. “You will catch your death of colds up there, and come home undisciplined and having to be educated all over again,” she had claimed more than once. “Although it is said to be a pretty place,” she said begrudgingly.
Of course, he and his sister had never become sick or unruly. They had happily searched for rocks in their grandfather’s company, and quick-witted Fiona had learned a good bit of Gaelic. Each time James had departed the Highlands and Struan House, he had longed to go back. By the time he had gone from Eton to Oxford and then Glasgow, later achieving a teaching position in Edinburgh, he was too busy to visit his widowed grandmother often, although he had always craved to spend more time in the Highlands.
Now, here, glancing through the window at a stunning view of the mountains, he felt at home. The warmth of the place and its inhabitants created that sense, and he savored it quietly.
Mrs. Graham poured liberal amounts of tea and filled their plates with cold meat and rolls, custard and cakes. James watched Elspeth, admiring her simple loveliness in the gray gown, her hair softly drawn up, small pearls dropping from her earlobes. Her shawl was a crisscross of soft green, lavender, and rose yarns.
“A handsome shawl, Miss MacArthur,” he said. “My sister would admire it.”
She smiled. “Thank you. It is one of my own weavings. I would be honored if you would accept a similar shawl as a gift for your sister.”
“She would like that,” he murmured.
“I could show you the looms later if you have time.” A blush seeped into her cheeks. He nodded, smiled.
“Please stay the night, Lord Struan,” Mrs. Graham said. “It is going dark, and the roads will not be improved yet.”
“I’ll gratefully accept the hospitality if the MacArthurs do not mind.”
“Of course we would not,” Elspeth said.
“Mr. MacArthur will join us shortly,” Mrs. Graham said. He learned during their conversation that the housekeeper was a cousin through Mr. MacArthur’s late wife, and had been with them since Elspeth had been in infancy.
“Are you kin to Sir John Graham, and his sister Lucie?” James asked. “I consider Sir John a good friend. I was with them at the king’s reception in Edinburgh, when, ah, Miss MacArthur and I were first introduced.”
“Oh, aye, they are cousins of mine, but keep to Edinburgh,” Peggy Graham said.
“Sir John is a fine road engineer. Naturally, that gives him a keen interest in geology too, and we sometimes consult together on his plans.” As he spoke, the drawing room door opened, and Donal MacArthur entered.
“Ah, Lord Struan! Good to meet you, sir,” the man said briskly, coming toward him. James stood to clasp his hand. “Welcome to Kilcrennan.”
“Lord Struan will be our guest for the night, Mr. MacArthur,” Mrs. Graham said, sounding more like a wife than a servant, or even a cousin.
“Excellent!” MacArthur sat beside his granddaughter and helped himself to food, and accepted a cup of steaming tea, heavily sweetened, from Mrs. Graham.
“Thank you for the loan of the clothing and boots, sir,” James said. “Unfortunately my own things got quite wet as we crossed some high water.”
“Down by the Durchan Water, Grandda,” Elspeth supplied. “It was very floody, but Lord Struan got us across, very bravely.”
