Page 85 of Laird of Twilight
“I completely agree.” His sister nodded.
“You will not convince her. She is a stubborn lass,” their brother murmured.
A movement past the window caught her attention then, and Elspeth looked out to see her grandfather’s gig advancing along the road toward Struan. He was returning already—scarcely an hour had gone by. She could tell the MacCarrans the truth now, take that risk—or keep her secrets, and lose her chance at happiness.
Soon she would turn twenty-one, and her life might change irrevocably if Donal MacArthur was to be believed. But she could hardly explain that to the others. It sounded preposterous even to her, and she had grown up with it.
But Donal MacArthur was correct in one way. She had fallen in love. It was already too late to stop that. With true love, the fairy curse over her family could break. But unless the treasure was returned, according to legend and to her grandfather, Donal would remain in danger.
She walked over to Struan, faced him, took a breath. “I have fairy blood through my mother,” she said. “I believe I have seen theDaoine Síth. Some things I am sure of, and some I struggle to accept, just as you do. I know you find all this difficult to believe, Lord Struan. But for me and mine, these tales have always been so. I wonder if you can truly accept that.”
“I can,” he said, and took her hands in his. “Marry me and help me do that.”
Elspeth heard Fiona sob happily, touching a hand to her chest. Beside her, Patrick beamed in silence.
Suddenly Elspeth knew what she must do. Knew what might resolve this for all, and bring happiness, though it was a risk. “Very well then. I will marry you—on one condition.”
“Will you? I think my grandmother would approve of setting a condition.” James nodded, squeezed her fingers. “Go on.”
She straightened her spine, feeling as if she stood on a cliff edge, as if only their clasped hands, their joined will, their love, could save them both.
“I will marry you,” she said, “if we find the lost fairy treasure tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? That sounds like another refusal, my girl. An impossible condition. But my grandmother’s demands seemed impossible too,” he added wryly, “and we may be able to meet them.”
“I mean this,” she said sincerely. “I do want to marry you. But I cannot until the treasure is found. I cannot explain it yet. Not for the riches—please do not think that. I do not care whether or not you are a wealthy man. Please trust me when I say that this treasure must be found for all our sakes. The people of the glen, and Lord Struan and his family. All of us.”
“We could marry and take as much time as we want searching for treasure in these hills. Why the hurry?”
“Because I do not know how long we will have together,” she blurted. “A lifetime or a few days. If the treasure is not found, my grandfather says the bargain he made years ago with the Fey could cause terrible mischief and calamity. You will be affected by that now, I fear.”
“There may be no threat at all to you, or me, or anyone.” He pulled on her hands to draw her closer, his calm, solid presence soothing. “Even if we have only days, Elspeth MacArthur, I would marry you. If we have a lifetime, I would marry you. Trust that.”
“I do,” she whispered. “And I believe we can find the treasure now. My father left the clues in his painting, if we can decipher it.”
“Then let us try, hey.” He leaned forward, kissed her brow lightly. A warmth like sunlight went through her—happiness, passion, hope pouring in their own sort of light. She tilted her head and kissed his cheek, touched her head to his, immersed in his strength, in his tenderness. She wanted to be with this man forever, had no doubt about that. She was deeply grateful to have found him, felt filled with the warmth and security of love newly realized.
Now all they needed was a good deal of luck drawn from that love and certainty—for she felt danger gathering all around.
Fiona, eyes shining with tears, came forward to hug her, and Patrick kissed her cheek, welcoming her to the family. Smiling, accepting their good wishes, Elspeth tried to resist fear. She had just thrown down a gauntlet to Fate and the Fey.
Yet she felt she had just been true to herself, perhaps for the first time in her life, truly honest with herself, and taking a step forward in life in defense of that. James MacCarran, Lord Struan, already seemed part of her soul. Their differences only enriched their match, herself changeable and airy, he solid and earthlike, and they could each help the other to grow and learn. This felt right, despite the risks.
“James, please,” she murmured. “Help me find it tomorrow. We must.”
“Then we will try. Do you know where to look?”
“My grandfather has searched the glen for years, but my father’s picture shows something new that may help. We just need to puzzle it out.”
“The cave in the landscape painting?”
“Grandmother called the painting a pretty picture of Ben Venue,” Fiona said. “She told me that once. Could that be a clue?”
“A' Bheinn Mheanbh!” Elspeth gasped, nodded. “That is the Gaelic. It is a small mountain near Loch Katrine. Your touring party may go past it tomorrow.”
“Then you must join us, James. With Miss MacArthur,” Patrick said.
“Elspeth,” she told him, smiling.
