Page 75 of Laird of Twilight
Donal chuckled. Her own head was spinning. She had never fully believed all that her grandfather had told her, even though she had seen evidence of it.
But all of that would have to wait. Her grandfather drove quickly toward the house, about to stop at the entrance steps. Elspeth hastily smoothed her skirt, glad she had worn her pretty dark blue gown today, and she tugged at her shawl, another of her own weavings in soft green and sky blue. As the gig rolled closer, she saw Angus MacKimmie walking toward them.
“Greetings, Angus! Go on, Elspeth,” Donal said quietly. “Go find your bonny laird. Tell him,” he murmured, “that you are ready to become the new Lady Struan.”
She was not sure she could do that, exactly. But she might say something to him to give him—and herself—new hope. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“The truth,” he reminded her. “It is time.”
Wondering how she could ever explain the whole truth, she moved to step from the gig and saw Struan striding toward them. As he reached out to help her, she rested her hands on his arms, accepting. “Good afternoon, Lord Struan.”
“Miss MacArthur,” he said rather formally. He lifted her down, and at the pressure of his hands at her waist, she felt a thrill to her bones. “What a surprise.”
She looked at him, hesitating, sensing an odd tension. He stepped away, and she turned to see others coming toward them. Some were familiar faces—Sir John Graham and Fiona MacCarran. “Cousin John!” she said, smiling. “And Miss MacCarran. I beg pardon, Lord Struan. My grandfather and I did not mean to interrupt. We were not aware that you have guests.”
“Indeed,” he replied. He sounded cool. Cautious. Her heart sank.
“How good to see you again, Miss MacArthur,” Fiona MacCarran said, taking Elspeth’s hand briefly.
“Cousin Elspeth, how nice,” John Graham said, kissing her cheek. “I came north on business and was not sure I would have time to visit Kilcrennan. Cousin Donal! Excellent to see you!” He walked around the gig.
Struan touched her elbow. “Miss MacArthur, you have not met my youngest brother, Patrick MacCarran. Patrick, Miss MacArthur lives in the glen here.”
“Hello.” Elspeth smiled up a young man who resembled the viscount, though his hair was darker, his eyes golden brown, his smile impish. Two others came down the steps then, and Elspeth felt her heart pound when she recognized the blond woman who was walking with a tall, dark gentleman.
“You remember Miss Sinclair,” Struan said quietly.
“I do.” Elspeth smiled politely and held out her hand in greeting. Charlotte Sinclair gave her a smug, tight little smile, and stood so close to Struan that her shoulder pressed his arm. Jolted to see that, thinking with dread that she should never have come, Elspeth kept a tight smile in place. “How do you do, Miss Sinclair. What brings you to the Highlands?”
“We came with Lady Rankin to visit James—Lord Struan—and to tour the Highlands.” Charlotte turned her smile up like a lamp as she looked at Struan. “I’m determined to lure him away from his books and into the mountains with us tomorrow.”
“Lord Eldin,” Struan said abruptly, “may I introduce Miss MacArthur of Kilcrennan.” Elspeth turned almost gratefully toward the stranger.
“A true Highland girl! I am charmed.” Eldin inclined his head. At first glance, he looked like a dark, beautiful avenging angel, imposing and stern. He was almost flawlessly handsome, his physique as taut and perfect as his finely tailored black clothing. As compelling as he seemed, Elspeth felt something unsettling about him. She frowned. He extended his hand, and she rested her gloved fingers in his.
The world went dizzy around her, shadowy with a smoky haze, and she could scarce breathe.James,she thought,James—she reached out for him, grabbing his coat sleeve almost blindly.
Chapter 18
Even as she stood beside Struan, even as Eldin still held her hand in introduction, Elspeth saw another scene—a ghostly image of both men. They wore red jackets and dark tartan kilts, the uniform of the Highland Black Watch. Both held guns and were enveloped in a smoky haze. Yet at the same time, both men stood watching her now, looking puzzled. James began to look alarmed. She felt frozen, scarcely able to move or speak as the images played out in her mind.
“Elspeth—Miss MacArthur,” Struan murmured.
She stared at him almost blankly, still watching the strange dual scene. He wore a gray frock coat and buff trousers now, the privileged gentleman, yet a flickering image beside him showed James dressed as a Highland officer. Beside him, Lord Eldin, tall and severely handsome in black, narrowed his eyes. His ghostly double was with him, wearing the Highland uniform.
James as a soldier had soot on his face, a bloody gash at his knee, a bayoneted gun upright in his hand. Eldin held a bayoneted firearm at the ready. He fired it, threw it to the ground—
The strange images vanished. The two men stood staring at her.
“Miss MacArthur, are you ill? She is very pale,” Eldin added to James.
She pulled her fingers from Eldin’s grip. “You—” she said hoarsely. “You were there! You saw him take a wound, and watched the other die!”
“Elspeth,” Struan said firmly, taking her arm. “Come inside.”
“What is this?” Eldin asked sharply. “Do you haveDa Shealladh?”The two sights—Second Sight. His use of Gaelic surprised her.
“Come away.” Struan set his arm around her to lead her into the house.
