Page 79 of A Rogue in Twilight
“You might see them yourself the next time they ride,” Elspeth said.
James nearly groaned aloud. Elspeth was putting them on now, especially Charlotte; he knew by her tone and the twinkle in her eyes.
“This is silly,” Charlotte murmured with an angry glower for Elspeth, which she then turned on him. He felt sorry for her, for he could never give her what she wanted. Her idea of loving someone was to be haughty and possessive, not kind or encouraging.
Just then he noticed how Philip Rankin looked at Charlotte, how he stood close to her and focused on her with a lot of admiration. Philip was haughty in his way, but also clever and jolly, and had a good income. And he seemed smitten with Charlotte. She needed a man who adored her and was thickenough to overlook her flaws. If she took notice of Philip, she would find a good match under her very nose.
“Not silly, Miss Sinclair,” James said then. “Fairy lore is part of the Highland culture. And there are things in heaven and earth that we cannot understand, as the great Bard once said. Is it not so, Sir Philip?”
“Huh, indeed,” Philip said. “I would like to hear your thoughts, Miss Sinclair.”
“I would love to see fairies in the wild,” Fiona murmured. “I would love to make sketches of them.” James remembered that was part of Fiona’s assignment in the will.
“If you look for them, remember to ask their permission before you draw what you see,” Elspeth told his sister. “Or they may try to steal you away.”
“Who, Highland savages?” Lady Rankin put a hand to her bosom.
“Fairies, Aunt,” Patrick said. “It is said they steal people away to their world.”
Lady Rankin gasped. “How can that be?”
“If the Fey are angered, they may do anything out of revenge,” Elspeth said.
“So they say. But—these are all just stories,” James said. Whether genuine or lunatic, he wanted to end this before someone mocked what Elspeth said or believed, because he loved her.
He did. But he had no time for that revelation. “Miss MacArthur is quite the expert in fairy lore,” he said. “And I am reminded that she kindly offered to advise me on local folklore today, a subject that interests me very much. If you will excuse us, I would like to show her what I have been working on.”
He ushered her into the study, then drew her around behind the door into the shadows. “Elspeth,” he growled.
Chapter Nineteen
“Do leave thedoor open,” Elspeth said. “Else Charlotte might knock it down.”
“Let her,” James said, but yanked it open, standing behind it with her. “Now tell me what you were going on about back there.”
“Fairies. Your sister was quite interested. Miss Sinclair is not pleased. And your lady aunt looked as if she would faint when you dragged me in here.”
“She likely fears fairies are everywhere now and will come after her. I thought it best to get you away before you revealed all your fairy secrets, or invited the blasted fairies into the blasted room!” he said too loudly.
“Which fairy secrets? And keep your voice down.”
“Your grandfather’s peculiar weaving habits, for one. Your father’s fate, painting fairies and then disappearing, or whatever he did. And I will shout if I must. Let them come after us.”
“So you do believe!” She smiled.
“I would not go that far, my lass. But I admit what seems unusual for most is normal for you. Is that enough acceptance?”
She tilted her head. “It will do.”
Her eyes, just then, were clear aquamarine lit with silver. But he would not tell her how beautiful they were. Not then, or he would be lost and want to pull her into his arms and tell her even more. “That is the best I can offer.”
“James, listen,” she said, as if she hardly heard. “I realized something, looking at the painting. Something about my father.”
“Tell me, then.”
“I think he went out to paint and sketch, and saw theSíthout there and drew them, then he would have gone home to paint them. That would fix their images for posterity. They would not like that. So they took him in forfeit. I wonder if Grandda knows that. It makes sense,” she added.
“It sounds preposterous to me,” he said. He was tired of fairy nonsense, even if he was wavering on the topic now, surrounded by it and seeing things he would never have believed if he had not met her. But he was not ready to admit it. “Blasted nonsense,” he added for good measure.
