Page 23 of A Rogue in Twilight
“You tried to save him!” She closed her eyes. Her cheeks went pale. “There was a flash of steel, like a blow. A horseman. A soldier jumped the line and was shot down. You were trapped—your leg—under the horse. You were injured, you could not save him. He called your name—Jamie, he said—”
“Enough!” He stood. “That nitwit Philip Rankin told you this!” He was livid. Anger burned clean through him, a ring of fire.
He preferred calm passions, the love for an excellent library collection, or a case of rock specimens neatly labeled, or for thoughts and theories expressed on the written page. Safe, solid, reliable passions. Not this muddy emotional tumult.
“No one told me. I swear I saw it in my mind.”
“You could easily assume I was part of a Highland regiment, and the Black Watch is a good guess. Very good, Miss MacArthur.” He clapped three times. “But if you want me to believe you are capable of Highland divination, you need a better explanation than ‘the knowing.’ Is this what you did to Sir Walter Scott at the royal reception?”
She sat up swiftly, yanking her skirts over her feet. He saw tears glint in her eyes. An actress of some skill? He frowned.
“You are the cruel one, sir. Sometimes when I touch someone, or they touch me, I just suddenly know somethingabout them. I see pictures in my mind. And sometimes I speak too quickly and say more than I should.”
“Far more, and you damned well know it.”
“I beg your pardon.” She stood. “Who was he, the friend you lost? A kinsman?”
“You are the one with the blasted Sight, you tell me,” he snapped.
“Your chief,” she said quickly. “Chief of your clan.”
“First you accost Sir Walter Scott with this nonsense, and then you feign a desire to be compromised. Now this. Stop this scheming now. It is done.” He bowed stiffly. “Rest here, Miss MacArthur. When the weather improves, I will take you home.”
She stood, hopping, fists clenched, and faced him. “For a man raised in the Highlands, I thought you would understand about the Sight.”
“Who told you I was raised in the Highlands?”
“Youtold me at the ladies’ assembly. I thought you would understandDa Shealladh, the Second Sight. But I was mistaken. Do not bother to take me home. I will go. Now.” She snatched up her damp plaid and her woeful bonnet, grabbed her boots and stocking, and limped, clearly fuming, toward the door.
James stood back, arms folded. Anger fell away as he watched her. Amusement trickled through him, and he was suddenly not so convinced she was a schemer. He was wary of minxes with an eye to a man’s fortune, having courted the princess of them all, Charlotte Sinclair. She was Lady Rankin’s marriage choice for him, and he had fallen for her charms, being a vulnerable soldier returned home. Too soon he saw her manipulative, ambitious, haughty nature. He had not proposed nor would he, though she expected it.
Elspeth MacArthur was not cut of the same cloth, but he was confused. She lacked guile, yet she had some scheme in mind, and she was damnably alluring.
But he would not be played for a fool. “Miss MacArthur, please sit down. I am not throwing you out.”
“You need not. I am throwing myself out.” She hopped about, trying to push her bandaged foot into its boot.
“The man killed beside me at Quatre Bras,” he said, “was my cousin. He was chief of Clan MacCarran.”
She looked up in silence, hands stilled on her boot.
“Someone might have told you that, though. As for my wound, it is bloody obvious I require a cane. So I will not credit your intuition entirely. But stay, Miss MacArthur. I will not be responsible for further injury to you.”
She watched him. “Trout,” she said.
“What?” He straightened, frowned.
“Trout. And…pudding?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Puddin’—” Startled, he spoke quickly. “My cousin loved desserts when we were boys at school. The lads teased him mercilessly. He was a bit of a pudge then. Puddin’, they called him.”
“And trout?”
“Enough. I will fetch tea.” He went to the door.
“Lord Struan,” she called. “I am sorry.”
In the corridor, he shoved a hand through his hair.Trout!No one knew about that but his siblings, who would not have told a stranger.
