Page 59 of Laird of Twilight
“Go on,” James replied, intrigued.
* * *
Dear God, not all the truth, Elspeth thought. “Grandda, it is late—”
“Long ago, they do say,” Donal began, “theDaoine Síthof this glen had a treasure so fine it shone like the sun inside their hillside palaces. Gold and silver and precious stones from mines tended by the fairies themselves, jewels and plate and all you can imagine, a treasure more valuable than any—this, oh this, was marvelous to behold.”
Elspeth saw James listening intently, his shoulder leaned against the mantelpiece. He looked relaxed, as if he fully belonged here. Her heart quickened at the thought, but when he caught her eye, she looked away.
“Long ago, one of our MacArthur ancestors found that hidden cache,” Donal continued. “The MacArthurs are the oldest clan in the Highlands, so our tradition says. And likely it is true, or we would not be claiming it, would we?”
James laughed softly, and Elspeth smiled. She felt simple happiness just having him here. If she married him, that would always be true—she had only to accept his offer. But circumstances made that more difficult than he could know, and more than she could explain.
Regardless of Highland Sight, she could not tell if his proposal was genuine, or merely an obligation. The man’s thoughts seemed inscrutable. Why did he need a bride, to insist so on marriage? He must be holding back some truth—and yet she did not even understand the truth about herself. If her grandfather insisted she was indeed fairy-born, and if other supposed proof arose, that would convince a skeptical viscount that Elspeth’s whole family was lunatic.
And the story her grandfather was telling now would seem mad to an outsider.
“This MacArthur clansman found the fairy treasure in the hills,” Donal was saying. “He hid it away to ransom his kinsman, a piper who had been lured into the hillside by the fairies. The Fey would not give that piper back, only demanded their precious things returned. He refused. So they made havoc in the glen, stealing humans, playing tricks. The thief died of a fairy bolt in his leg, and he the one who had hidden the gold. It has never been found since, never returned to the fairies.
“So ever since,” he went on, “they have stolen folk away and made wicked bargains. Their mischief will continue until the treasure is found.”
“The fairy riding,” James said. “So that is why some are frightened of it?”
“Aye, they fear the fairies will take them as a bargain for missing treasure.”
“How long ago would this treasure have been taken...if it was real?”
“Three hundred years, and aye, 'tis real,” Donal replied.
“But how could one find it? Are there clues, or maps?”
“Not that we know. But once it is found, two keys are needed to open the treasure chest. One key is a certain stone. The other—” He nodded toward Elspeth.
She shook her head to silence her grandfather.
“Miss MacArthur was searching for a stone in the garden at Struan,” James said. “Later she found a blue agate in the library case and thought that might be it.”
“You found the blue stone?” MacArthur leaned toward her.
“There is a pretty blue stone at Struan House,” Elspeth said. “But I do not know if it is the same one. But any sort of key is useless if we do not know where the treasure lies. We have nothing to unlock until that day.”
“A bit of ancient gold and silver, a few gems—treasure surfaces now and again in the Highlands, lost or buried by early cultures,” James said. “It could easily be seen as fairy gold. Legends grow that way sometimes.”
“This is real, I told you,” Donal said abruptly.
“Even if you found gold, how would you know it was, ah, fairy gold? And how would it be returned? Left out on a hillside? It could be taken, but not by the Fey.”
“I know how to return it. Do not worry about that, sir.”
Elspeth listened, hoping the men would let this go. But her grandfather had imbibed too much whisky, and would keep on about the fairies. “Grandda—”
“I am fine,” he grumbled.
“Since this MacArthur fellow was your ancestor, perhaps there are clues in family lore or local legends. Is there anything in writing?” James asked.
“My ancestor was a farmer, not a poet. I have told you what we know,” Donal said. “The treasure is here somewhere, and we know how to open it if we can find it. Without their treasure, the fairies lack their full power, which means they need our help, human assistance, to find their missing gold. An ancient MacArthur nearly outwitted them—and they will never allow us contentment until that is avenged.”
“Why does their power depend on it? They are fairies. That is, if they exist,” James added.
