Page 53 of A Rogue in Twilight
Chapter Thirteen
James shrugged intoa borrowed tartan waistcoat of dark green with black and yellow accents, then wrapped a clean neckcloth around the high collar of a fresh linen shirt. The borrowed things, including tan trousers and a coat of gray superfine, all made for a tall man, fit well enough. Mrs. Graham, the housekeeper, had provided some of Mr. MacArthur’s things, showing James to a guest room to change.
“MacArthur is glad to lend them to you. My lord, we are grateful to you for taking care of Miss Elspeth and seeing her safe home.”
Safe home, James thought, savoring the phrase. Mrs. Graham might have guessed he and Elspeth had been alone, yet the woman seemed unbothered.
Knotting the neckcloth, about to go downstairs for the hearty tea Mrs. Graham had promised, he stopped at the window to gaze over the courtyard of the quaint and modest estate of house, old stone tower, and outbuildings. MacArthur had nearly two thousand acres, Elspeth had explained as they rode to Kilcrennan. The place was old, tilted, shabby, cramped, showing charm as well as age. Most of the outbuildings, Elspeth had said, were weaving cottages. Beyond, misty blue mountains marched into the distance beneath a wide sky that promised to clear soon.
Then he saw Elspeth crossing the yard, dry and dressed in a pale gray gown with a plaid of soft colors wrapped over her shoulders. Just the sight of her tugged at his heart, bringing aninexpressible yearning. He knew now, clearly and certainly, that he loved her, felt his feelings expand far beyond obligation and the absurd demands of his grandmother’s will. Life would never be the same for him without that fey and fascinating girl by his side.
Now a gig and horse rolled into the yard, and the driver, an older gentleman, stepped out. Perhaps this was Donal MacArthur, James wondered. The man looked strong and fit in a dark brown coat over a red plaid kilt and stockings in the Highland way. Seeing Elspeth in the yard, he flung his arms wide and she ran to be enveloped in a hug. James heard her laugh, heard her grandfather’s booming reply.
“Home, wee girl! I worried you had vanished in the fairy riding!”
“The fairies did not take me, Grandda. I was safe at Struan House.”
“Struan! What is this?”
Mrs. Graham hurried to greet MacArthur too, and James was surprised to see the housekeeper give and receive kisses from both. As they walked toward the house, Donal and Mrs. Graham both wrapped arms about Elspeth, the three of them snug, supportive, and loving.
James sucked in a breath as the yearning grew powerful, unsatisfied, almost a physical hurt. Years ago he had known such warmth, the joy and laughter of parents, siblings, servants who were kin and helpers. There was always ease of affection in that home. But his parents had died and the children were sent away, and he and Fiona had lived with well-meaning but stern Lady Rankin. They’d had only each other for years.
That stale old loneliness still pulled, for he felt the outsider again. Then Donal MacArthur looked up, saw him at the window, grinned widely and lifted a hand to welcome him. Elspeth looked up and waved.
Feeling some relief, he headed for the stairs.
The hearty teawas supper, James discovered. The generous spread was served in the dining room, where he sat with Elspeth and Mrs. Graham, with MacArthur himself coming soon after seeing to some tasks in the cottages. James glanced around the cozy room with its lovely blue walls, planked floor, and a table set with crisp linens, delicate china, and a silver service that even fussy Aunt Rankin would be proud to have.
The fare was excellent, too, hot rolls and butter, cold sliced lamb, rowan jelly, small cakes and biscuits, and steaming black tea. Elspeth poured, and James felt comfortable enough to help himself liberally and laugh at the light conversation.
Lady Rankin, James thought, would have her nose out of joint to discover this Highland family not crude and backward, but warm and civilized. She had maintained that opinion even though her sister, Lady Struan, had gone north—and so Aunt Rankin had rarely sent James and Fiona, as her wards, to visit their grandparents.
“You will catch your death of colds in the north and come home undisciplined and have to be educated all over again,” she would claim.
But he and Fiona had been happy there, exploring and free. By the time he had gone to university in Glasgow and was offered a teaching position in Edinburgh, he did his best to visit his widowed grandmother, wanting to spend more time in the Highlands, though it was not always practical. His twin Fiona found more opportunity than he, for she studied the Gaelic language, gained some proficiency, and joined a ladies’ society that sent her north to teach and help in Highland glens.
But here, James felt immediately and utterly at home, and savored it as quietly as he savored the tea, the cakes, and the company. He watched Elspeth, admiring her simple lovelinessagain. The pale gray wool and the creamy tartan in lavender and rose flattered her complexion. When she smiled at him, the dimples at the corners of her mouth made him smile, too.
“That is a handsome shawl, Miss MacArthur,” he said.
“It is one of my weaving pieces. Could I could give you a length for your twin sister? I would be honored.”
“Thank you,” he murmured. “I would love to see the looms where you work.”
“Of course.” A blush seeped into her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled. He felt she remembered, as he did, lovely secrets between them.
“Please stay the night, Lord Struan,” Mrs. Graham said. “It is going dark, and the roads will not be improved yet.”
He had no desire to make that trip alone in the dark. And he had no desire to leave Elspeth yet. “I will gratefully accept, if it is agreeable.”
“Of course,” Elspeth said. “Grandda will come in soon. He will be pleased.”
“Mrs. Graham,” James said. “Miss MacArthur told me that you are a cousin on her mother’s side. I know some of the Grahams in Edinburgh. The younger Sir John Graham is a friend—a road engineer with a keen interest in geology, so we have worked together. I saw them at the king’s reception in Edinburgh, where, ah, Miss MacArthur and I first met.” He glanced at Elspeth and way.
“Oh, aye, sir, those Grahams are cousins, and Sir Hector Graham too, who is now Deputy Lord Provost. He has three lovely daughters—Ellison, Deirdre, and Juliet. But they keep to Edinburgh for the most part.”
“Sometimes they visit Strathniven here in Perthshire,” Elspeth said, “but we do not see them often.” As she spoke, the drawing room door opened and Donal MacArthur entered.
