Page 79 of Laird of Twilight
He desperately wanted—needed—time alone with Elspeth, though his guests would not depart on their Highland tour until tomorrow. But somehow, even with Charlotte tracking his every move, he must find time to speak with not just Elspeth, but his siblings too. He wanted to explain about Elspeth, and his desire to marry her.
Seeing her today, he knew that he was not yet done with this, despite her refusals, despite his impatience and disappointment. He knew now that he would never give up on her.
“What is this about fairies and treasure?” Patrick asked, coming closer too. “Fairies are such a fascinating topic. Fiona loves them too, don’t you?” His sister, walking beside him, nodded and smiled, her cheeks betraying a deep blush.
“James, have you found fairies at Struan House?” she asked.
“Just in Grandmother’s manuscript,” he said irritably.
“Lost treasure is so adventurous,” Charlotte said. “Perhaps we could find it!”
“An entertaining Highland tale and no more,” James said. “Just a local legend that Miss MacArthur was explaining. Isn’t that so?” Elspeth nodded, eyes wide.
“The painting has fairies in it. Look! I never noticed that when we visited before.” Fiona pointed to Niall’s painting.
Charlotte shoved between James and Elspeth to gaze up at the picture. “Very pretty, though I think it is more suited to a bedroom than this room. Perhaps you could have it moved, James, if I find a better spot for it upstairs?”
“I like it here,” he answered. “Grandmother was very fond of it. By the way, Miss MacArthur’s father was the artist.”
“Your father?” Charlotte looked at Elspeth with surprise. “Then your family may want to purchase the picture when James sells Struan House.”
“Sell the house?” Elspeth turned gray eyes up to him, her distress clear.
“Not yet,” he said, frowning.
“He wants to be rid of the place, and one can hardly blame him, a drafty old house like this, so far away from home.” Charlotte tucked her hand in his elbow in a proprietary way that made him stiffen cautiously. Elspeth looked away.
“It is not so far. Many come up to the Highlands from the city,” he only said.
“But you have so many responsibilities in Edinburgh, and this house and estate will require attention, unless we—er, you—wish to spend a good part of the year in the Highlands.”
“I may indeed do that.” With a polite smile, he disengaged his arm and stepped away. Charlotte smiled. She could be deliberately oblivious to whatever disagreed with her goal. And he was clearly the goal.
“Lord Struan, what is this? Would you sell this grand old place?” Sir Philip asked in a jovial tone as he came toward them, escorting Lady Rankin on his arm.
“I am considering all options,” James replied, nodding a greeting to both.
“Why then, I might purchase it myself,” Sir Philip said with a hearty laugh.
“Dear Philip! And Lady Rankin. I hope you feel more rested,” Charlotte cooed.
“I am. Did we miss tea?” Lady Rankin kissed his cheek, then sat while Fiona poured tea for her and Sir Philip. “Miss MacArthur, how nice to see you again,” Lady Rankin said after a moment—a pause meant to put the girl in a secondary place, James noted, certainly of less importance than Charlotte. “You live nearby, I recall?”
“I do, my lady. My grandfather and I live down the glen.”
“I believe your grandfather is a weaver? Kilcrennan’s?” Sir Philip asked.
“Aye, sir,” Elspeth replied.
“I have Kilcrennan tartan in my own wardrobe. Fine stuff!”
“Weaving! I hope you do not employ small children in your factory,” Charlotte said.
“Only myself when I was small,” Elspeth said, mischief glinting in her eyes.
“You weave cloth in a factory? How unusual,” Lady Rankin said.
“It is not a factory. But I am a weaver, aye,” Elspeth confirmed, even as Lady Rankin and Charlotte raised their eyebrows. “We use handlooms and practice the old ways of the craft. My grandfather, and his father and grandfather before him, grandmothers too, were all weavers in this glen. It is an old family tradition here.”
