Page 76 of Laird of Twilight
“What is it?” Patrick MacCarran asked, going up the steps with them.
“Miss MacArthur is feeling faint. She must sit down,” Struan answered. “Tell her grandfather she is fine, and only needs a moment to rest.” Patrick nodded and turned away. Behind her, she heard her grandfather asking what had happened.
The warm, solid pressure of James’s arm around her felt safe and good. It was all she needed, with her thoughts scrambled for the moment. She let herself lean into his strength as he led her inside and into the library. The others, murmuring, questioning, followed more slowly.
“Sit here. What the devil happened?” He guided her to a wing chair by the fireplace, his hands patient, his voice urgent, private.
“I do not feel faint. I am fine.”
“I could hardly explain that you were having one of your fairy spells, could I.” He dropped to his haunches, frowning at her. “Tell me what happened.”
“I saw you and Lord Eldin together, in uniform, out on a battlefield—your knee was injured. You were standing, leaning on a long gun. Lord Eldin had a gun too. He fired it, set it down. You wore red coats and the kilts of the Black Watch.”
“My God.” He took her hand. “You are shaking like an aspen. I do not understand this, but it is clear that something happened. Would you like some whisky? Or tea?”
“Not whisky,” she said with a half-laugh. “I do not need anything.”
“Mrs. MacKimmie is preparing tea. You will stay. Mrs. MacKimmie!” he called over his shoulder. “Drat. All of them will be here in a moment. Do not get up,” he said, touching her shoulder. “I will be right back.”
“James, please.” But he was gone. She leaned back in the wing chair uneasily. Hearing footsteps, she turned to see Eldin crossing the library.
“Miss MacArthur.” He came closer. “Are you well? We were quite concerned. You seemed overcome.”
“I am fine. It was nothing.” She rose to her feet.
“So you have the Sight,” he said flatly.
She folded her hands warily. “Why do you say that?”
“I know something of it.” He inclined his head, closed his eyes. “Ah. Fairy-held Sight,” he murmured. “Interesting.”
“That’s madness, sir.” But she felt something odd about Eldin, that he understood more than he would reveal, that he was some kind of threat to James. Puzzled, she watched him. “Who are you?”
He laughed and turned as James strode into across the room, his limp echoing unevenly on wooden floor and thick Oriental carpet. That rhythm was dear and familiar to her, and she was glad when he stood by her chair almost protectively. At the same time, others began to enter the room.
“Cousin Nick,” James said brusquely, quietly. “You were just leaving. I believe Mr. MacKimmie is bringing your barouche round just now.”
“Excellent.” Eldin smiled at Elspeth. “I regret I cannot linger to take tea with you, Miss MacArthur. Do take care.”
“Sir,” she replied, and sensed the tension in Struan, still standing by her.
Eldin left the library just as Mrs. MacKimmie and a housemaid entered, carrying trays with a porcelain teapot, cups, plates of food. They set the trays down as the guests came into the room to gather near the fireplace and near Elspeth. They murmured their concern and good wishes, to Elspeth’s embarrassment.
“Truly it was nothing.” She felt heat rising in her cheeks.
“You seem fine now,” Fiona said gently. “Perhaps it was the chilly air.”
“We are having cold autumn winds after so much rain,” Mrs. MacKimmie said, as she set out the tea things. “The wind may have blown into her, such a delicate wee lass she is.”
“I am fine, and grateful for your kindness,” Elspeth said. Her grandfather had come into the room with the others. He lifted his fingers to his brow briefly, and she realized that he was asking if it was the Sight. She nodded and turned away.
Fiona sat in the wing chair opposite to pour out the tea, and Elspeth accepted a steaming cup, as did the others. Once her cousin John Graham felt reassured of her health, he said his farewells, and he and Eldin left in the barouche. Tea and conversation continued in the library. To Elspeth’s relief, the incident seemed quickly forgotten.
“What a substantial tea this is,” Charlotte remarked of the generous spread Mrs. MacKimmie had provided, which included cold beef, sausage rolls, sweet and plain biscuits, a fruit compote, lemon cake, and plenty of strong, hot tea.
“A Highland tea, Miss,” Mrs. MacKimmie said. “Near enough to a supper, this.”
“Oh!” Charlotte Sinclair looked startled, and Elspeth realized that she had not expected the housekeeper to answer her directly. Hiding her smile, Elspeth felt a little fillip of satisfaction as Mrs. MacKimmie continued.
