Page 34 of A Rogue in Twilight
“Struan!” she called.
He looked back. “I will be fine, lass. Stay there.”
“Whatever happens, do not look back!”
He waved and walked into the storm.
Eilidh.Hearing hername on the wind, Elspeth grabbed a plaidie folded on a bench and left the house. She knew Struan would find the horses safe and the stable closed. The eerie sounds had not come from there. James might be walking into the path of the Fey said to be riding that night; part of her always wondered if it was true, despite local beliefs and her grandfather’s insistence.
But she could not take the chance, knowing James might be in danger. She had to find him and urge him back to the house. The fairy cavalcade was said to sometimes take those who were near, whether they believed or not.
Eilidh! Come with us…The voices blended with the wind and the rhythm of horse hooves. But Elspeth knew the risks. DonalMacArthur always claimed that he had fallen to their mystical lure and must pay the price still. Her father had disappeared into their thrall too, so said Grandda. On ordinary days, she found it easy to resist believing all the tales. But on a night like this, she felt the strange unearthly pull.
But James MacCarran, Lord Struan, was a solid and skeptical man—the power of the Fey might simply diminish in his presence. She had to warn him to be cautious, even as she felt that his pragmatic nature might keep him safe.
Spying his cane beside the path, she grabbed it and used its support as she hurried through the gardens and past the low stone wall leading to meadows and hills. Rushing on, nightgown and plaid and hair whipping, she searched but did not call out.
Then the tall wolfhound was beside her, shoring her side like a guardian. Relieved and reassured, she thanked him and took hold of his collar as they crossed the wet, soggy grass together. Limping and barefoot, she was surprised that she did not feel the chill, and her ankle felt stronger than she expected. The Fey, it was said, could make a person feel good, healed, even euphoric. Certainly some kind of magic was in the very air that night.
Something moved ahead, shapes and shadows in the mist that took on a strange blue glow. She heard the faint sound of bells and hoof falls. Then a line of horses and riders emerged, light and dark moving through the night mist past a woodland. She hurried forward, then stopped, hesitant to be seen. Where was James? She looked around but saw only the several riders moving across the landscape.
This could not be real, she thought, just a vision conjured in her mind of the Fey, theSidheof old, the ones called the Seelie Court. They glided by on horseback, a sparkling group of tall men and slender women sitting their horses elegantly. They were impossibly beautiful, all glitter and spark, as if webs of starlight and fire surrounded them. Their cloaks and garments,a rainbow of color, were hemmed with gold and gems, and the horses’ reins were bejeweled too. Their hair, pale and dark, was threaded with filaments of gold and silver, softly curled and beribboned. Rings flashed on their fingers, buckles glinted on belts and shoes. Their eyes glowed like crystal.
Elspeth stood in shadows, scarcely breathing. Was she dreaming? Or was this what her grandfather had seen more than once? Tiny silver bells chimed soft and clear as they approached. She recognized magical symbols embroidered in shining threads on hems and saddles.
A blonde woman in a glittering cloak rode in the lead between a man and woman with dark hair and sparkling garments. Others followed, twelve riders in all, one leading a horse with an empty saddle. They meant to bring someone back with them this night.
A chill flooded through Elspeth. They had come for her. She knew it like the certainty of stars and sunlight. She stepped back into the shadow of a huge oak and watched the cavalcade stream toward Struan House at a steady pace.
She flattened against the oak, sheltered beneath its dripping leaves, as the riders passed clean through the garden wall as if it was only made of fog. Their gait was musical: clip-clop and bell ring and the soughing of the wind.
Though Elspeth shrank against the tree trunk, the lady in the lead looked to the side, then angled her horse toward her.There! Eilidh! Come to us, Dear One!
They drew closer to the oak, its boughs shaking in the storm winds. The lady, beautiful in green and gold, pale hair like a stream of moonlight, reached out a beringed hand toward Elspeth, who shrank back. The Sidhe, if she was really seeing this, could steal the very soul from a human. If they took her, she might never come back.
The tug she felt was nearly irresistible, but she clung to the tree and thought of James, disbelieving, strong—he might look and never see them, and that might keep him safe. The wind whirled, high and hard now, rocking the tree branches, billowing her gown and hair and plaid, so that she reached for a lower branch of the oak to hold fast.
Come with us,she heard the pale-haired queen say in a melodious sing-song. Then the dark-haired lady, small and lovely, reached out to her.My sweet one, at last, there you are!
She felt drawn to this woman, and lifted her arm, feeling weaker against the thrall. This was their domain, the earth, the trees, the rocks, wind, rain, the very air. Out here, their power was strong. As the fairy woman reached out, she felt as if the air lifted her—
“Elspeth!”
James! His voice cut through the noise of the wind and she looked to the side to see him running toward her. Tearing herself away from the tree, she bolted toward him over the wet grass, aware the cavalcade advanced too. She waved the cane like a weapon, like a sword, cutting through the air, slicing through the vision. They did not vanish, and she heard hooves pounding alongside her.Eilidh! Here!
“Elspeth, here to me!” James held out his arms.
As she ran, the riders veered toward James, clopping hooves and singsong and bells chiming. The pale-haired lady stretched out an arm toward him.
“James, no!” Elspeth called, running. He looked up as the riders approached, hooves flying now. The wind tore at his coat, his hair, and the mist enveloped him.
“No!” She plunged into the thick mist, found James and grabbed his arm fervently. He wrapped his arms around her as the wind whirled and spun around them.
The horses were but an arm’s length away, the riders stretching toward both of them now. Elspeth pushed James away, out of their path, and turned her face away from their glow, tucking her face in his shoulder, holding his head down to hers. As he held her tightly, she drew her plaid up to cover both of them, but the wind tore at it like a banner.
The Fey hovered in the mist, calling both their names.Come, Eilidh…Seumas…
“No!” she called into the wind and mist, toward the vision she wished she could not see. She took James’s face in her hands to keep him from turning. “Do not look back. Do not look at them!” she told him desperately.
