Page 27 of A Rogue in Twilight
“Iron keeps the fairies away.” He nodded. “I read that somewhere.”
“But if the wildfolk want to come in, be sure they will find a way.”
He chuckled at that. She knew he thought it all harmless superstition, but she found his practical attitude intriguing. She tilted her head, watching, wondering. Standing in that cozy kitchen within arm’s reach of him, she felt a sense of ease and comfort go through her. She did not want this night to end.
For a moment she recalled tender kisses shared months earlier, and she remembered his arms around her. An urge to feel that again, the kisses, the passion, the sense of cherishing with it, made her yearn suddenly and deeply.
Love,the thought came to her then.Love feels like this.
He tilted his head at her silence. “Miss MacArthur?”
“Where—where shall I sleep, Lord Struan?” she asked hastily.
“Take your pick of the guest rooms. This way.” Holding a lantern, he led the way, offering a hand to her elbow as she limped along. He limped too, without his cane, but his focus on her was solicitous and touching.
A thrill went through her like small lightning. The man had a restrained sort of power, masculine and controlled, tempered by courtesy and reserve. It was compelling. She walked unevenly beside him, his hand light at her elbow, her breath catching with it.
The wolfhound followed, nudging helpfully at Elspeth, now and then setting her off balance. She stumbled against Struan, and he put his arm around her. The plaid slid from her shoulders, and he caught it. She stopped, for a moment resting her hand on his chest. His eyes were dark blue in the lamplight, and she could feel his heartbeat under her hand through his clothing. She took her hand away quickly.
“You made a friend in the wolfhound.” His voice was gruff.
“We call his breed fairy hound here. They take readily to anyone with fairy blood, so it is said.”
“Do you have fairy blood?” he asked sharply. She blinked.
“Oh—they say that of many here,” she replied lightly. “Osgar has taken to you,” she went on. “Perhaps you have fairy heritage.”
“My grandmother wished it was so, I can tell you that. She claimed the MacCarrans had a fairy ancestor long ago. She was not of MacCarran blood herself, but was fascinated and hoped it carried in her husband, children, and grandchildren. She was certainly believed it. Are there such legends among your kin?”
“Oh,” she said with a shrug, “there are legends in our family too. It is not uncommon in the Highlands. My grandfather liked to say that my mother had fairy blood. I never knew her, you see.”
“I am sorry. But I could believe it, looking at you. Beautiful,” he said softly and straightened the plaid about her shoulders, then brushed back her hair. Wonderful shivers coursed through her. His hand dropped away. “The tales are entertaining, certainly.”
“But it is all nonsense? You truly disdain it.”
“I am a man of science. But the legend persists. My grandmother kept it alive, I suppose. As children, we were told that long ago, a MacCarran ancestor saved a fairy woman from drowning, and married her. Supposedly her blood runs through those descended from the main branch. That includes myself and my siblings. They say some MacCarrans have strange abilities because of this mythical ancestor, but I have never seen any evidence of it. Come along, you lot,” he called to the three dogs now following them. Struan took Elspeth’s elbow to help her up the stairs.
“Your ancestor saved a fairy woman?” she asked, keenly interested.
“Charming Highland hogwash.”
Chapter Seven
“There are afew guest rooms on this level,” James said as they reached the upper corridor. “And more above, but you do not need to climb more stairs.”
He understood the concessions needed for a weak limb, and even more, he wanted her to disappear into one of the rooms just now. He was distracted and responding too keenly to this girl. The feeling was best ignored.
Until morning, he wanted some distance between them. No matter what she had said earlier about a willingness to be compromised, he would not ruin her reputation or his with some heady passion that could be easily controlled with willpower and reason.
“The rooms are freshened for use, as guests are expected next week.”
“And I am unexpected,” she said.
“But welcome to stay.” He opened a door and stood back as Elspeth stepped inside. “The hearth is cold in here. Let me tend to it.” He followed her into the room as the three dogs plopped down to arrange themselves in and around the doorway.
Limping, his leg aching, he wished he had gone back to look for his cane in the garden. He knelt by the fireplace, found peat bricks neatly stacked, and used the tinder box Elspeth found and held out for him. She lit an oil lamp while he coaxed the peats to catch. Then he sat back. “It will take some time, but the room should warm soon.”
“Thank you. I could have done that. I am used to such.”
