Page 81 of Laird of Twilight
“It was just a very thick mist,” James reassured her.
“Och,and what a puir night that was,” Mrs. MacKimmie said, holding the tea tray, in no hurry to depart. “A fierce storm, rain for days. The roads flooded and the bridge broke. How kind of Lord Struan to rescue Elspeth MacArthur.”
“Are you quite finished, Mrs. MacKimmie?” Lady Rankin asked.
“Then you were here, too, Mrs. MacKimmie,” Fiona said.
“Struan House is my home, Miss MacCarran,” the housekeeper answered. “I am always here.” She smiled almost beatifically.
Breathing out in relief and gratitude, James nodded to her. Her eyes twinkled as she made her way to the door, tray clattering.
“James, do enlighten us,” Lady Rankin said. “I am confused.”
“Miss MacArthur was stranded by a devilish Highland gale. She had to accept hospitality at Struan House until she could get home to Kilcrennan.”
“I see,” Charlotte said coldly.
“I suppose it could not be helped,” Lady Rankin decided, “and you had a capable chaperone in Mrs. MacKimmie, even if her manners are forward.”
“She is a most excellent housekeeper,” James replied. “A treasure.”
“A kind woman,” Elspeth said. “I have known her all my life.”
“What of the fairies?” Patrick asked. “You saw them?”
“So beautiful,” Elspeth said. “Lord Struan thinks it was a fancy of my imagination, but I believe I saw them as clear as I see you now.”
Fiona touched Elspeth’s shoulder. “My dear, this is wonderful! What did they look like? How does one see them?”
Elspeth turned with a smile, opened her mouth to speak, a peculiar twinkle in her eyes. James nearly groaned aloud, seeing what was to come. “Miss MacCarran, you will see them yourself one day,” Elspeth said. “But…oh, do be careful if you should decide to paint them.”
“Paint them!” Fiona looked at James. “Does she know what I do?”
“She does not,” James answered.
“The fairy ilk dislike having their picture made,” Elspeth went on. “You may very well see them one day, Miss MacCarran, but if you try to sketch them, they will cause you mischief.” She paused. “Oh! A vow! Did you make a vow…and Struan as well, a promise to Lady Struan?” She glanced at James, her brow furrowed.
“I promised to finish her book, as you know, Miss MacArthur,” he said calmly. He had not told her much about the conditions of his grandmother’s will. And now, when he thought Elspeth could no longer surprise him, she did so again.
He owed her a full explanation. Especially with those gray eyes, usually sparkling and yet so serious now, watching him. She knew there was far more to it.
“Miss MacArthur, do you have the Highland Sight?” Fiona asked. “Sir Walter thought so when he met you in Edinburgh.” She beamed at Elspeth, then at James, her pleasure clear. His twin sister had reason to be thrilled. He sighed.
“This is all very silly,” Charlotte said. Her angry glower made her look harsh, James noticed. He knew she wanted his affection, particularly now that he stood to inherit, although she did not know the details. He could offer friendship, but he could not love her. Suddenly he felt sorry for her. Loving someone in her possessive and superior manner must be hard—but to her, that did mean love.
Now he noticed Sir Philip Rankin looking attentively at Charlotte, and standing close to her. Philip was short, plain, and balding, but he was clever, possessed a good income, and was clearly smitten. James had not seen it before, but he felt pleased. Charlotte needed someone who would adore her, someone simple enough to overlook her flaws. Those two might be a reasonable match, James speculated.
“Not so silly, Miss Sinclair,” he said. “Fairy lore is very much part of the Highland culture. While reading my grandmother’s work, I have come to realize that there are many things in heaven and earth that we cannot understand, as the Bard said.” His own skepticism had lessened quite a lot, he admitted silently.
“Miss MacCarran, remember to ask permission of the fairies when you make sketches in the Highlands,” Elspeth was telling Fiona. “Or they may try to steal you away. That happened to—oh!” She gasped, turning to James. “My father painted them, and fell in love with one of them, and—oh, what if he was taken because of the picture!”
“Who took him? Highland savages?” Lady Rankin put a hand to her bosom.
“Fairies, Aunt,” Patrick said. “They are said to steal people away to their world.”
“What!” Lady Rankin grew pale. “How can that be?”
“If the Fey are angered, they may do anything out of revenge,” Elspeth said.
