Page 41 of A Rogue in Twilight
Outside, rain still pattered against the window glass. Truly, she wanted to stay. Struan’s marriage proposal echoed in her mind. The memory of his honest words and intimate voice sent a thrill through her. Refusing his offer had been harder than James could ever know.
Glancing into the mirror over the chest of drawers, she combed her fingers through her tousled hair and did her best to plait it in a single braid, tied with a ribbon slipped from herbonnet. Her favorite hat, like her dress, would never be the same again. She would never be same again, she thought. The time here had changed her.
She tossed her plaid shawl over her shoulders. More than her gown and bonnet had been ruined here. Gloriously, sweetly ruined.
Marrying him was what she wanted, if she was truthful with herself. But she was adamant about staying in the Highlands—and more adamant that James must not feel obligated to marry her, as he seemed to do.
She glanced out the window at the dreary, sodden landscape. Walking home would be unwise, considering her twisted ankle. James had offered to drive her home, and she would accept it. Last night, listening to him through the door, she had felt stubborn at first—but her heart took over, and she had been on the verge of relenting, even though she feared he felt only obligation.
She had always wanted to remain in the Highlands where her heart and her nature belonged. Her grandfather had told her that a fairy spell bound her to the Highlands, and that same fairy spell would eventually send her back to the fairy realm. For years, she had felt the pull of the Highlands, believing simply that she loved her home and Highland life, that her grandfather’s fairy stories were pretty tales, and that she was in no danger.
But those beliefs were shifting. Now she had seen the Fey and felt their influence and power. And now she realized that she was falling in love.
Grandda wanted her to fall in love—he had once said it might break the spell surrounding her, the spell she had not wanted to credit. She could love and marry James. That choice was open to her. But she could not bear to leave her home and the life sheloved. Perhaps that, in itself, was due to the fairy spell Grandda had mentioned.
Donal MacArthur’s solution for her was to remove her from danger by marrying her off to a Lowlander; any Lowlander would do, she thought wryly, for he was in a hurry to see it done before she turned twenty-one, the day the spell would change.
But now she saw that the Fey would threaten James as well, pull him into their realm with her. Donal MacArthur had succumbed to their thrall, and her father as well, so Grandda had said. She could not let that happen to James—and so she should not wed him.
*
Later, the houseseemed empty as she wandered through. James was nowhere to be seen—she had meant to ask if he could drive her back to Kilcrennan as the rain continued and her ankle was not strong enough for the long walk. In the kitchen, she encountered the dogs resting by the hearth. The generous span of windows overlooking the garden showed steady rain, mist, and the sodden green lawn where she and Struan had tumbled to the grass with wild and tender kisses, while the fairy court rode past.
A tray sat on the long pine table, holding a silver pot, a china cup, a plate holding oatcakes and jam, and a folded paper. Steam twirled from the spout, fragrant with cocoa.
Elspeth.She touched the letters. His handwriting was strong, with a hint of roundness, like a secret tenderness, here and there. Nothing more, just her name. But he had taken time to prepare the tray. Then apparently he had left the house, perhaps to see to the horses as he had done last night.
Pouring a cup of chocolate, she sipped, nibbled an oatcake, and offered bits to the dogs as they came forward. Osgar nudgedat her hand and urged her toward the door. Moments later, she wrapped a dry plaidie over her, pulled it over her head, and opened the door to let the three dogs out, walking out after them.
Limping slightly, she lifted her skirt out of the mud. Osgar came back and leaned against her as if to offer support. She patted his shoulder.
“Good dog,” she said. “My loyal friend.”
Looking up, she saw James approaching the house from the direction of the stables and outbuildings. He wore a greatcoat and hat, cane in one hand, the other shoved in a pocket, the coat flaring in the breeze.
“Good morning, Miss MacArthur,” he said simply. She was not sure how to interpret his cool tone and faint smile. “Chilly and wet today.”
“Lord Struan,” she said with equal coolness. “The rain is still with us, but it is time I returned home, I think.”
“I will drive you as soon as the roads allow. I walked out a little ways to look at their condition. The road beyond the house is quite muddy, but may improve as the day goes on. Stay as long as you like.” His brief smile was suddenly heart-wrenching.
“I should go.” She glanced away. “Is all well with the horses?”
“They are perfectly fine. So are the chickens and the cow in the byre past the stables. I may be a city lad, but I know a bit about country life. Most of our livestock are kept on the home farm a few miles along the glen, but some are here. The cow gave no milk this morning, though I did my best. Perhaps she was frightened by the storm.”
“Or the Fey.”
He tipped a brow to allow it. “Mrs. MacKimmie keeps some chickens penned here. I found four eggs.” He pulled his hand from a side pocket to display one brown egg and repocketed it. “We can share breakfast.”
“I would like that. And thank you for the hot chocolate and cakes. That was thoughtful.” She turned to walk toward the house alongside him.
“Quite welcome. I am not a bad hand in the kitchen, as a bachelor with very few household staff. How is the ankle this morning?” He glanced down as they walked, her hindered gait as rhythmic as his. “I’ll take you back soon. You seem anxious to escape.”
“Not escape, I promise. But I cannot stay here alone with you.”
“Unless we change our status.”
She did not reply. Pale morning light mingled with soft rain and the ground was beset with runnels and puddles. Elspeth went carefully, and once or twice Struan set a hand under her arm, all in silence.
