Page 43 of A Rogue in Twilight

“That is wise, sir,” Struan said. “The legends are certainly fanciful.”

“The stories are more than amusement,” Elspeth said. “They are part of the cultural legacy of the Highlands. Many put store in them with good reason.”

“Of course,” the elder Buchanan agreed. “I recall that Lady Struan was quite interested in the fairy legends in this glen. She would drive about in her ponycart to talk to people and learn about the local customs.”

“My grandmother did love her work,” Struan said affably. “The skies look rather dreadful, gentlemen. Will you come in for tea, or something stronger?”

“No thank you.” The reverend smiled. “We will be on our way. Miss MacArthur, may we see you home? We would be glad to walk you back to Kilcrennan.”

“Thank you, it will not be necessary,” she said with a smile.

“No need to impose on the good laird,” the elder Buchanan said. “Yer grandfather would want ye home. He’s expected home soon from the city if the roads permit.”

“I will see Miss MacArthur home very soon,” Struan said.

“Sir, you must be very busy. We can do it,” the elder man insisted.

“Da, perhaps they are courting,” the reverend murmured, but it was audible to all.

“Lord Struan is a friend,” Elspeth said, feeling indignant. “We met in Edinburgh months ago.”

“Just so,” Struan agreed. Though he did not touch her, she felt his strength and support infuse her. She lifted her chin and stared defiantly at the smith and his son.

“Ah.” Buchanan glanced at his son, then back again. “Well, my lord, we will move on, and good day.”

“Good day, Miss MacArthur,” the reverend said.

The smith tipped his hat to Elspeth and spoke in Gaelic. “Mìle deagh dhùrachd dhut nad àm ri teachd, Eilidh, nighean Dhòmhnaill.”

A thousand good wishes to you in your future, Elspeth, daughter of Donal.”

She thanked him in that language, and the men moved on. Then she picked up her skirt and hurried toward the house, limping unevenly. Catching up to her, Struan reached to open the door first to allow her to enter.

“What is it?” he asked.

She whirled. “Did you hear that?”

“I do not speak Gaelic.”

“He spoke a Gaelic blessing that is used for an engaged couple!”

“Engaged?” He frowned.

“Either he assumed that, or he was implying that I had best marry or be disgraced. He will spread a rumor about it, sure as we stand here.”

“Indeed,” he said thoughtfully. “If we announce our engagement, that would disprove any rumors.”

“You are trying hard to convince me,” she said.

“You are trying hard to refuse. But this is the best solution to avoid scandal and harm to your reputation.” He bent to pet the two terriers nosing at his boots and jumping up for attention as he spoke.

“Highlanders do not fret over scandal the way Southrons do. There will be some whispering, and Buchanan never minds hisown business, but I would not be judged unfairly as I might be in the city. Even lasses who might have babies out of wedlock are not severely judged or sent away. It is understood that such things happen.”

“Aye,” Struan said wryly. “They do.”

She felt a hot blush move into her throat and face. “My cousin was caught out like that at sixteen. Her family treated her kindly and raised the child as their own. A few years later, my cousin married another man who was glad to have her. He is a good husband to her. As for my wee transgression,” she said, “I would not have to marry the tailor, and I could stay at Kilcrennan in peace to do my work.”

“Weaving?” he asked. “I understand your grandfather makes fine tartan.”