Page 77 of Laird of Twilight
“The laird often takes his tea this way now, with a small supper late in the evening. I will have soup ready later if that suits. Lady Rankin requested an informal meal for everyone as they arrived. I know you must be tired from the long journey up from the south.”
“Thank you, Mrs. MacKimmie,” Fiona said. Elspeth noted that neither Fiona nor her brothers seemed to expect the housekeeper to be the retiring sort, although Miss Sinclair was still pursing her mouth over it. “A quiet evening would be just the thing before our early outing tomorrow. This is an excellent spread, well done. And thank you.”
While the housekeeper beamed in response and answered as Fiona asked about her recipe for lemon cake, Elspeth glanced at Struan. He had remained standing beside her chair, cup and saucer cradled in his hand.
“All is well?” he murmured softly.
“Aye, though I am mortified,” she whispered.
“It is forgotten. Thankfully my great-aunt is napping and Sir Philip is strolling the gardens, or there would have been far more drama.”
“My grandfather and I must go.” She set her cup on a small table. “We only came by so that, ah, I could offer to help with your work—since you had asked.”
“Did you? Good.” He leaned an elbow on the wing of her chair, looking down at her, and she gazed into his eyes—sincere blue, wonderful eyes. She knew deeply that he was a good man, and her breath caught, for she wished now that she could stay longer, stay forever. Yet she was not sure of her status among these people who were important in Struan’s life. She glanced away, feeling very much an outsider.
“Struan,” Charlotte said then, her voice lilting. “Tell us about your beautiful house. Perhaps you could start by explaining the pretty curiosities in these display cases. Come here, do!” She flashed him a brilliant smile.
“My sister can tell you more about the rocks and things in there,” he said, smiling back, staying where he stood.
Charlotte gave a quick, displeased frown. But Fiona took the girl’s arm and turned with her, beginning to explain about the stones in the display case.
“I should have remembered you were expecting guests,” Elspeth said quietly to Struan. “You are too busy to do any work today. Perhaps we could talk about your grandmother’s book later.” She stood, smoothing her skirts. “Thank you for your hospitality. May I apologize—for everything,” she added softly.
“Stay,” he said. “I want you to stay. You must at least finish your tea.”
Donal MacArthur, who had walked over to the fireplace to study the painting hanging above the mantel, glanced at them over his shoulder. He held a teacup in one hand and a small plate with a slice of cake in the other. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Struan,” he boomed. “I have some errands to tend to this afternoon. See the reverend and such. Perhaps my granddaughter could wait here until I can return for her. So she would not become too tired going about with me, hey?”
“She may stay here as long as she likes,” Struan said. Donal smiled in clear satisfaction and turned back to his son’s painting.
I want to stay forever,she thought. But with Charlotte Sinclair was here, perhaps Struan felt differently about marrying a Highland girl, especially one who had adamantly refused him, when Charlotte was so eager to accommodate.
And with his guests about, Elspeth knew she could find no good chance for a private discussion—and perhaps that was best. Charlotte Sinclair, being so possessive of Lord Struan, would no doubt cling to his side as long as Elspeth was there. He would soon forget his impulsive offer of marriage, she thought.
The very thought of that hurt. What had she done? She turned. “Grandfather, I think I would like to come with you. Lord Struan has guests. I will not intrude.”
“If he does not mind it, then we do not,” her grandfather answered. “I will be back soon. You will have a little time to begin helping with Struan’s paperwork, as you promised.”
“I—suppose I could,” she said, glancing hesitantly at Struan.
“Good, then.” He took her elbow to accompany her as she walked with her grandfather to the library door. He limped slightly without his cane, and Elspeth lent discreet support by walking close should he need to lean, though she knew his pride would prevent it. Charlotte hurried over.
“Oh, you’re leaving, Miss MacArthur, but how nice to see you again,” Charlotte told Elspeth, slipping her arm into the crook of Struan’s other elbow. “Dear Struan, do be careful without your cane, sir. Come with me, you must tell me more about the pretty blue stone in the case. It is quite my favorite. It would make handsome jewelry pieces if we could have slices of it.” She tugged on his arm, nearly throwing him off balance.
Almost without thinking, Elspeth pressed close to help Struan right himself as Charlotte tugged. Slice the blue stone? She nearly gasped aloud.
“That is a blue agate, quite rare. I would never allow it to be cut into baubles,” Struan said. “Do give me a moment. I am saying farewell to Mr. MacArthur. And I believe Miss MacArthur will be here with us for the afternoon, or so we can hope.”
“But James,” Charlotte protested in a loud whisper, pouting.
“Please, do not mind us, go ahead.” Elspeth stepped away, not wanting to encourage Charlotte Sinclair’s petty drama.
With a lightning frown toward Elspeth, Struan nodded, bid a polite farewell to Donal MacArthur, and turned away with Charlotte. Taking her grandfather’s arm, Elspeth walked with him to the entrance.
He leaned down. “That lass has an angel’s face and the manners of a magpie.”
Elspeth laughed ruefully. “And now I really must stay, to make sure the magpie does not claim your blue stone.”
“Aye, do that. I looked at it during the tea. That is exactly the one, and we must have it back. Do you think you can manage it?”
