Page 24 of A Rogue in Twilight
How did Elspeth MacArthur know? Was there some other scheme at hand here? The only other person who knew some of this was his cousin, Lord Eldin, who had also been at Quatre Bras. He might be low enough to tell a local girl about the devastation James had endured if he had it in mind to ruin the new Lord Struan. But he could not credit that guileless girl with that much plotting. He could not piece it all together.
Trout had been his boyhood name for Archie MacCarran the day he fell into a stream while fishing with James and William.He emerged with a trout jumping about in his trews, and the boys had collapsed with laughter. James had laughed about it with Archie again only the day before his cousin’s death.
Elspeth MacArthur could not have known that.
Sight or none, ruination or none, if he stayed alone much longer with his pretty visitor, marriage might indeed be his obligation. Finding a fairy bride, ridiculous as that was, did not compare to this real predicament.
He had wanted a dull and ordinary life, but risk had found him once again.
Tea,he reminded himself. That was ordinary enough. He headed for the kitchen.
Chapter Six
Ruination and compromise?Elspeth covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. What was she thinking, to talk of that, and then mention visions, death, and battle! Either the whisky or the Sight had loosened her tongue in a most deplorable fashion. Now she must convince Struan that she was neither madwoman nor hussy.
Fairy gifts, so her grandfather said, came with a price. Her gift of Sight asked a good deal for the privilege. Sometimes she impulsively blurted out whatever came to mind. She had offended Sir Walter Scott and now Lord Struan. No wonder James MacCarran of Struan thought her a fortune hunter. She must leave. But she had not had enough time to search the grounds for her grandfather’s blue fairy stone.
Donal MacArthur was in Edinburgh even now, and may have already promised her hand to MacDowell. She might be standing before a parson with the tailor soon, for her twenty-first birthday was three weeks away.
But if these hours alone with Lord Struan could compromise her reputation, she might escape marrying the tailor. If Struan felt obligated, she did not have to accept. She wanted to avoid what her grandfather seemed determined to arrange for her, and she was equally determined to remain at Kilcrennan—even if she had to do it as a disgraced spinster.
She stood, hopping on her stronger foot. The rain continued, the darkness increased, and she was chilled, for her things werestill damp. Draping her plaid to dry by the fire, she threw the woolen lap robe about her shoulders and limped out into the hallway. Seeing a faint glow from the back staircase, she went toward it, supporting herself with a hand on the wall.
A faint, unsettling moan echoed distantly in the house. Surely that was the banshee of Struan House. On one visit with Grandda for tea with Lady Struan, she had heard the eerie cry and mentioned it. The lady had been delighted that Elspeth had heard it, and had told Donal MacArthur that perhaps the child had some connection with Struan House. Now, hearing it again, chills ran down her spine.
Limping down the steps and into the back corridor, she saw a light glowing in the kitchen, and moved toward it. The huge gray wolfhound emerged from the shadows. He shoved his head under her hand, pressing close as if to offer his tall shoulder for support. Walking with him to the kitchen door, she peered inside and saw Struan standing at the long work table, arranging bread and cheese on a plate.
She entered beside the dog. The scrubbed pine table held a bowl of apples, a blue-and-white porcelain teapot, delicate teacups and saucers. In the arched kitchen hearth, a steaming iron teakettle hung from a hook. A second hook held a second bubbling kettle.
“Soup,” Elspeth said, sniffing the seasoned air. “It smells delicious.”
“Aye. The housekeeper left soup for my supper. We can share that and have a hearty tea if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you, I would love that. No need to take it upstairs,” she added as he reached for the tray. “We can eat in here. It is just the two of us.”
She began to arrange the tea things as he fetched dishes and spoons. She grated sugar from a cone into a bowl and set it with teapot. Then she found a knife to slice into a loaf of thick brownbread while Lord Struan went to the hearth to ladle soup into bowls.
Elspeth felt tension dissipate in favor of cooperation as they worked. Struan carried the tray to a small table beneath a wide window, pulled up two wooden chairs, and held one out for her. She sat, pulling the lap plaid around her shoulders. Struan set a bowl of soup before her, another for himself, and sat across from her.
“You’re shivering,” he said.
“My gown is still damp,” she admitted. And she wore just one boot, with her injured foot wrapped in his neckcloth. Struan wore shirtsleeves and no cravat with his brocaded gray waistcoat, having discarded his wet coat. Stifling a sigh, she reached out to pour tea into two cups and watched as he stirred sugar into the steaming liquid in his cup.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I should offer you some dry clothing, but I am not very familiar with what might be available in the house. We could look.”
She shook her head. “My things will dry.” She sipped hot tea, grateful for it, and saw that he waited courteously for her to begin eating. She took a little bread, buttered it, then sipped a spoonful of soup. It was excellent, savory, thick, and soon he began eating too. They were silent, focused, as rain pattered the windows above the table and gusts rattled the panes. Then Elspeth glanced at the dark sky.
“Do you think anyone will return to the house tonight?”
“Honestly I doubt it. The roads will be muddy and unsafe in the dark. Likely they will arrive tomorrow. Here, you. Good lassie.” Elspeth blinked, but he spoke to one of the dogs, for the terriers had come in while they had been preparing the meal.
Struan set his nearly empty soup bowl on the floor, and the two terriers rushed for it, nosing at each other. When Elspeth set hers on the floor too, the wolfhound came over to lick it clean.
“I will give them more, but it has to cool first.” Struan sat back. “Miss MacArthur, we both know you should go home, but it is impossible for you to walk, and dangerous for us to ride out by cart or horse yet, for the horse’s sake more than ours. I fear you may have to stay the night.”
“I know.” Her heart gave a little flip. She reached for the teapot and poured a little tea into both cups. They sipped in silence. Then he set his cup down.
“I must ask—why were you in the garden?”
