Page 68 of A Rogue in Twilight
No matter what happened, she wanted to give him something she had woven. Then some part of her would always be with him.
A fortnight had passed since he had visited, and she had thrown herself into her work. She did not have her grandfather’s otherworldly work habits, but she kept a pace fast enough to be creative and productive.
She had managed to be too busy to talk much with her grandfather about Struan and marriage and her future, though he tried. She tried not to think about it, but the matter burdened her heart and soul.
Now, she left the weaving cottage and went into the storage house where yarns and supplies were kept. Inside its dimness, sunbeams poured through cracks in the shutters. Motes and woolen fibers floated on the light. From a shelf, she took a copy of Wilson’sKey Pattern Bookand sat at the worktable turning the pages.
Published by an Edinburgh tailor years earlier, the book contained hundreds of tartan designs assigned to particular clans. Some were based on old clan traditions, while many had been invented more recently. Tartan patterns and clan associations were part of the craze for Highland culture that accompanied the king’s visit to Scotland. And that had benefitted the Kilcrennan weavers and other weavers too.
Immersed in studying the meticulous hand-colored tartans on the pages, she was surprised to hear a knock. The door opened to admit a young woman.
“Margaret!” Elspeth jumped up to embrace her cousin. “How nice to see you!”
Margaret Lamont smiled, round face beaming, brown eyes sparkling. Her red hair was tucked in a thick braid wrapped over the crown of her head, making her seem even taller, her full figure party due to another babe on the way. She was a brawny lass, as Donal MacArthur sometimes described her, with wide shoulders, strong arms, and hands pink from working with raw wool and dye baths.
“Reverend Buchanan brought me here on his way through,” Margaret explained.
“Dear Margaret! You look good,” Elspeth said. “I hope you are working less with this babe coming. The dye baths are not good for your back, and the smell could make you ill.”
“My husband found others do the dyeing for now, so I am spinning and combing. Today I had some free time and my mother is watching the children, so I thought to visit you. I love seeing what you and Uncle Donal are weaving with my yarns.”
“Your yarns are wonderful! I’ve finished several tartans this week. I came here to search out a new pattern.”
Margaret peered at the book open on the table. “What a great book it is,” she said, and began speaking softly in Gaelic, as she and Elspeth sometimes did. It was Margaret’s native tongue.“Tartan is in such demand now. The demand will keep us all busy.”
“I’m glad. Grandda is very content when he’s busy at the weaving.”
“What sett will you choose?” Margaret turned a page or two.
“I was looking for, ah, MacCarran.”
“Lord Struan’s plaid?” Margaret asked. “I heard you were seen at Struan House with him. Reverend Buchanan told me. Uncle Donal said so too, just now in the yard when I saw him. He and Peggy Graham hinted at—something going on with you two.”
Elspeth blushed. “Grandda cannot keep a secret.”
“He has your best interest at heart.”
Elspeth sighed and turned another page. “I want to weave a plaid so Lord Struan can have a kilt made up in Edinburgh when he returns.”
“Would this be your wedding gift to him?”
“Och,Grandda has indeed been chatty!”
“It is customary for a bride to make her husband a tartan of his clan if she has the skill for it. And you do.”
“It may be more of a parting gift,” Elspeth admitted.
“Is it? Peggy Graham and your grandfather think otherwise,” Margaret said quietly. “They love you so much, and hope the best for you. And those Buchanans are gossipy sorts. Do not whatever they say. Your grandfather and Peggy seem to like Struan very much.” Margaret touched Elspeth’s shoulder. “They said he offered marriage.”
“He did.”
Margaret nodded. “I see. Do you love him?”
Turning another page, Elspeth sighed again. “This kerfuffle is all my doing. I asked him to ruin me, Margaret,” she confessed.
“Asked him to what?” Margaret blinked. “Did he?”
“Only a little, and I wanted it. And I thought it would help me escape the marriage Grandda tried to arrange with a tailor. But I did not think that—well, it is no matter now.”
