Page 96 of Laird of Twilight
“Ah. Then we will not dispute ownership.” He took her hand to walk toward the back, where he ducked his head to peer into the shadows there. “This cave has two chambers at least. Not uncommon,” he added. “Looks as if there is a second chamber here.” He crouched to peer into it. Then he beckoned and went inside.
Elspeth followed him down a natural ramp of rock into the lower cave, a dark, close, narrow space just high enough for James to stand upright. Enough daylight spilled from the outer cave to reveal shadowy objects inside the smaller cave—boxes, blankets, a rock ledge with bottles, candles, bowls and other items.
“They have made themselves comfortable here,” James said. “Honestly, after your grandfather’s ominous remarks, I am glad to see hints of human presence. I would far rather meet a smuggler than a fairy in here.”
Laughing softly, Elspeth turned. “Are those wooden crates empty?”
James peered into a few of the boxes stacked against one wall. “Aye,” he said, then opened one. “Ah, a bit of whisky. The laird of Struan may just want to share it.” He looked up. “Would this be fairy whisky, by chance? We may not want to indulge in any of that just now. I wonder if Donal came up here for his fairy brew.”
“No, Cousin Dougal brings it to him once a year, and they have a merry night together sharing it. He is a bonny braw lad, a good laird to his folk and his kin. Perhaps you shall meet him someday.”
She felt a sudden thrill, a chill, go through her.Fiona,she thought suddenly, seeing a quick image of James’s sister and her own cousin Dougal MacGregor standing together—but bit her lip against the words. This was no time to share the Sight with James. And perhaps it was only imagination; she quite liked Fiona, and had always hoped her handsome cousin Dougal would find someone to love. Bonny, braw, and very lonely, he was, with much responsibility—which he was solving by taking some dangerous risks.
James turned. “Love? What is it?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I am satisfied that this place belongs not to fairies, but to smugglers—my cousins or others—and I think we should leave.”
“All right, then. Let me examine the rock and we will go. First, a little light.”
Taking one of the candles from the ledge, he removed his tinderbox from his satchel and knelt, flashing steel to flint, and made enough sparks on the wick to create a little flame. He stood to hold it high, its golden glow spilling down.
Elspeth saw more inside the cave then—a stack of blankets, a crate used as a table with a whisky bottle, a small sack of oats, a few dishes.
“A man could live in here,” James said.
“Not with his wife,” she said wryly.
“A moment, lass. See, the rock in here is different than the outer cave.” He gestured. “The walls out there are mostly limestone, with patches of basalt and granite. Here, there is more granite composition. Interesting. That means layers that show different ages in the rock.”
“And this cave is below the other, so this granite layer formed first?”
“A quick student! I did not think you listened to my ramblings.”
“I have listened to everything you said. And it made me more curious about silly rocks. Oh, it is cold and damp down here.” She rubbed her arms.
“There is a devilish chill, and we’re damp from the drizzle. The whisky and those blankets will help. Here.” He found cups on a shelf, quickly removed a cork from a bottle, and poured a little. Sniffing, taking it in, he nodded. “Very good.”
Elspeth took the cup he handed her and sipped a little, and he drank from his cup. The whisky burned like fire, warmed her inside, took the chill away for the moment. “Highland whisky,” she said. “Very good quality. I wonder whose it is.”
“The fairy sort?”
She closed her eyes, tasted. “The ordinary sort.”
“Any Scot knows Highland whisky is never ordinary, even without the fairies brewing it or whatever your cousin claims.” He sipped again, turned. “What is in that small chest over there? Fairy treasure, I hope?”
Seeing a wooden chest in a corner, she went there and knelt to open it. Tartan and linen were folded inside. “More plaids, some shirts.”
“If the smugglers ever found treasure here, it would be long gone.”
“The legend is quite old. You still do not believe any of this, do you.”
“If some of it can be explained rationally, it does make it easier to believe. Though missing fairy treasure makes a better legend than whisky smugglers.”
Setting down the cup, Elspeth untied her bonnet ribbons, as the hat obscured her vision in the dark little cave. She set it with the whisky bottle and cup, as her dark hair slipped free of its pins. She caught them and tucked in her pocket.
When James draped one of the plaid blankets around her shoulders, and she smiled her thanks, leaning against him, feeling his cheek press against her head.
Married.She had willingly made the commitment, after weeks of doubt and fear that she realized now she had learned from her grandfather, for he feared more about these legends and possible fairies than she ever had. Now that she was wed, what then could she expect from life—and the Fey? But she could not shake the feeling of wariness. Something might yet happen.
