Page 78 of Laird of Twilight
“I will find a way, even with the magpie’s eye upon it.”
“And on you as well. Stay here as your right. You and Struan have an agreement, even if it is a secret.” He whispered this a little too loudly.
“I doubt we have an agreement now. And I will not squabble over him with another woman,” she returned in a fierce whisper. “It will be a relief to live at Kilcrennan all my life, with none of this to bother over.” She lifted her chin.
“A relief? Stubborn lass,” he drawled.
She sighed. “Grandda, before you go, let me tell you—” She explained the vision she had seen earlier, which had near knocked her off her feet. “Afterward, Lord Eldin asked me if I had a fairy gift. How strange!”
“Indeed, there is something odd about the man, I admit.”
“I feel certain he and Struan were enemies once and may yet be. He wants something, but I do not know what it is.”
“Well, he is gone now, and good riddance. I will be back soon, lass. While you are here, look closely at Niall’s painting. There is something you must see.”
“Struan noticed that a woman in the painting looks like me. I am hoping it could be a likeness of my mother.”
“Perhaps. But look again.” He touched her chin. “There is something else there for you to see.”
“Very well,” she said, puzzled, and reached up to kiss his cheek quickly. As he left, she returned to the library.
Struan stood with the others by the display case. For an instant, Elspeth remembered being alone with him just there, blissfully, passionately alone. Now Charlotte Sinclair pressed her shoulder to his arm, her blond hair shining in the sunlight beside the chestnut-and-gold gleam of his hair. They were a beautifully matched pair, Elspeth thought. Surely everyone expected them to wed one day.
She turned away quickly went to the fireplace. Gazing at her father’s painting, admiring the masterful technique, the large composition with its delicate details that showed the moorland rinsed in moonbeams, the forested hillside, the misty hints of fairy riders among the trees. Then she noticed a new detail in the landscape.
Frowning, she raised on tiptoe for a closer look. She did not remember seeing this before. To one side of the composition, a wall of dark rock rose up, and the detail of the brushwork revealed the narrow mouth of a cave there. Inside the shadowed crevice, she could see the painterly glimmer of jewels and gold, tiny dabs and dots of color. A cache of gold and treasure? Her heart leaped.
She angled to one side and craned her neck for a better perspective, and nearly stumbled into Struan, who came up behind her. He steadied her arm, and she turned, touching his sleeve. “Look,” she whispered urgently. “There, to the right. What do you see there?”
He studied the painting, and after a moment nodded. “Interesting. There is a cave—and is that a chest of gold and things, like a pirate’s treasure? I had not noticed it before.”
“My father had a fine hand for detail, and that does look like treasure. James,” she whispered, leaning toward him. “What if he deliberately left clues?”
“All these details are legends that are well known in the glen. Your father put them in the picture.”
“This is more than that. I know it.” She tilted her head. “That rocky cliff looks familiar. It is nearby—I have seen it. Let me think,” she said, drawing her brow together. “Surely it is in the glen, or not far from there.”
He leaned his head down. “If we find the cave and the treasure, your fairies will have to dance at our wedding.” He sounded amused.
“Our wedding?” Her heartbeat quickened, leaped.
“If you like,” he murmured.
A breath. Another. He had not given up on her. But she could not think about it here and now. “I thought you did not believe in fairy nonsense.”
“For a charming fairy lass, you are too serious sometimes,” he whispered.
“I wish...you would trust that this treasure exists, and is no joke. Nor is—the rest of this amusing.”
“I trust you,” he murmured. “I do not trust tales of fairies and lost treasure.”
“Please, we must talk,” she said softly. “But not here.”
“Fairies and treasure! How exciting! Do tell us,” Charlotte said, coming near.
* * *
There was just no blasted privacy in this place, James thought, turning as Charlotte approached. How much had she heard of their murmured conversation? He felt hounded by the girl, but she seemed to take no notice of his disinterest.
