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Page 44 of A Rogue in Twilight (The Whisky Rogues #2)

“I f we marry,” she said, “we should do it now. Here. Grandda thought it best.”

James set down the loupe and the hammer, nodding, frowning. He took her hand to pull her up to stand on a rock with him. “Marry now? Would you?”

She nodded. “I think so. Grandda said that bond will protect us inside the cave.”

“I see.” He nodded.

Her eyes flashed silver as they met his. “You think it a silly notion.”

“I rather like the idea.” He felt bewildered, charmed, excited all at once. Her innocent quality often disarmed him, and her secrets were intriguing. “I am determined to find the fairy treasure before I win the hand of my lady love, but if she will agree first, I am content, and still determined.”

“I am content too. I know I have resisted, but if this is a worthy precaution, and we are agreed, we could do a handfasting.”

He smiled. “You are a fickle and adorable creature, Elspeth MacArthur.”

“That alone might prove the fairy blood in me.” She smiled too. “I will pledge with you here and now, if you want. But I am sure you find this capricious nonsense.”

“Not at all,” he said. “Not anymore.”

She nodded, eyes wide, earnest. “If we declare our commitment in this ancient spot, in the old Highland way, it would feel perfect. I think it is very much what I want.”

An unexpected and powerful emotion seized him—love, he realized, the very feeling he had avoided for so long.

Now he felt rinsed through, cleansed and strengthened and renewed by a love that felt full and deep and real, no matter how long or short a time it had been in him.

He wanted to let go of his reserve and let her see that he believed in her, trusted her.

Committing to marriage would be a long step on that path.

He took her shoulders, drew her close. “I am for it, lass. I love you.”

“And I you, so very much.” She lifted her face to his. “And so?”

“This seems the perfect spot for it.”

“If we say vows in this powerful place, it is forever,” she said.

He nodded. “Clergy and court can be done later.”

“James, what if later, you want to live in the south while I want to be in the Highlands? We have not settled that.”

“We will keep a house here and a house there, and wherever else you like. And the home of your heart will be in these hills, aye? Good, then. How do we do this thing?”

His heart hammered fast, though he did not want to show that to her. It was not uncertainty, but realization of the risk, the challenge of this. He was not an impulsive soul, but something within insisted that this was utterly right to do now, and quickly.

“We hold hands and say a vow of our own making. And we need—let me see.” She looked about. “Over here!”

Tugging on his hand, she led him toward a narrow stream of water that cut down over the rock from the mountaintop.

“By the water that carries rain and melted snow from the highest to the lowest point, so it joins mountain, sky, and earth. Step to that side and I shall stand on this side, so it flows eternally between us.”

He stepped across the narrow runnel to face her and took her hands in his. He paused to slowly draw her gloves off, taking them again in his bare hands. He tucked her gloves into his pocket, keeping them safe.

She crossed her forearms, and he did as well, holding hands again. “This forms a love knot in a handfasting. A union forged with a knot and entwined with a blessing will last forever.”

“You know a good deal about this.”

“My friend Margaret was married in a handfasting. I learned what makes such ceremonies special and important. Now, the vows.” She drew a breath, closed her eyes. “Say what is in your heart,” she whispered. “Let the words come.”

James closed his eyes. Whether it was the place, the air, the spontaneity of what they did here, a feeling swelled within him, heart and soul.

Its gathering force filled him with humility and love.

With solid earth and rock beneath him and the quiet power of water and the mountain and the infinite symbol of their crossed arms, he felt moved, reverent. And then it came to him.

“I, James Arthur MacCarran, take you, Elspeth—”

“ Eilidh ,” she whispered. “My birth name.”

“ Ay-lesh ,” he repeated softly, gazing at her through misting rain. “Beautiful lass. I, James Arthur MacCarran, pledge my troth and my heart to you, Eilidh MacArthur. I bless the day we met, and I take you as my wife and my lover, in body and soul, forever and a day.”

“I, Eilidh MacArthur,” she murmured, “pledge my troth and heart to you, James Arthur MacCarran. I bless the day we met, I bless your strength and your kindness. And I take you as my husband and my lover, body and soul, forever and a day.”

“Let none put this asunder,” he murmured.

Leaning over the narrow water, he unclasped his arms and drew her toward him to kiss her. Water burbled between and beneath, soft rain fell upon them, and his heart thumped with the promise he had made. Forever. It was as solid as the rock beneath him.

She lifted on her toes and leaned to meet him, then gently drew back. James stepped over the water and took her into his arms.

“Lady Struan,” he said. “We will be safe inside the cave and anywhere we go.”

“Safe always. Lady Struan?”

“That is who you are now. Though we should make it completely legal.”

“Oh, we will. Come, let us get on with it.” She tugged at his hand.

“Get on with what, madam?” He chuckled.

“Not that,” she said, laughing. “Later for that. The cave and the search.”

“We will find gold if it is here.”

“We have no choice,” she said, wrapping her hand in the crook of his arm. “We have to save Donal MacArthur.”

Elspeth shivered in the cool darkness of the cave. She took James’s hand, gripping it tightly. Husband, she thought, feeling as if this were a dream and she would wake any moment to find life ordinary again.

The cave itself looked ordinary enough, irregularly shaped, not large, with rough arched walls and deep shadows. At the back she saw a second narrow opening.

No fairy halls glimmering with gold, no tall, ethereal fey creatures awaiting them. She breathed out in relief, not certain what she might find.

James reached out to brush his hand over part of the rock wall. “Metamorphic dolomitic limestone,” he said. “Very large limestone deposits,” he explained, “often contain caves and caverns, as if bubbles or pockets of air formed as the stone cooled.”

“I see,” she said, a little bemused by his focus. They walked deeper into it.

Elspeth waited, chilled and wary, while he moved around to examine the textures in the rock. He glanced back. “What is it?”

She wrapped her arms around herself with a recurring worry. “I hope there are no others here.”

“We are safe. Did we not ensure that just minutes ago?” He came back to take her in his arms and kiss her. “Do you want to wait here while I look around?”

She shook her head. “I want to stay with you.” She took his hand as they walked on. At the back, he ducked his head, too tall for the ceiling’s downward slope, and then peered ahead.

“There are at least two chambers here,” he said.

“I see a small inner cave, and it looks as if this outer cave has been used recently.” He gestured toward a niche in the side wall.

“There is an iron ring over there, do you see? And a dip in the stone has been used for a trough. Not fairy riders, my love,” he said. “Smugglers.”

“Ah.” She half-laughed at her nervousness. “A fair amount of smuggling goes on in this region. They must come up here to stash their goods and hide from excise men and sheriffs. Our MacGregor cousin does indulge in the fair trade.”

“Your smuggling kinsmen will be snug in their homes on this dreary day. Even if they come about at night, it is not a concern now.” He went toward the inner chamber to peer into it, and Elspeth followed.

She was surprised, looking past him, to see shadowed objects—wooden boxes, blankets, a flat rock ledge holding bottles, bowls, and half-melted candles.

“Smugglers indeed, making themselves comfortable here,” James said. “It is good to see a trace of human presence. That alone might chase the fairies away. And I would rather meet a smuggler than a vengeful member of the Fey.”

Laughing softly, Elspeth stepped into the smaller cave, curiosity heightened. The narrow space was just tall enough for James to stand upright as he joined her.

“These wooden crates are empty,” he said, examining them. Finding a tinderbox on the rock shelf, he flashed steel to flint to spark a little flame on a sliver of wood. Then he lit one of the candles and held it high, looking around.

Elspeth saw that the little cave was nest-like with blankets and notes of comfort that included a whisky jug and a cloth sack that held oats.

“The rock walls here are different than the outer cave,” James said. “Those are mostly limestone. This one has more granite composition. Interesting.”

“Does that mean the layers are of different ages? This cave is lower than the other. Would the granite layer have formed first?”

“Quicker than my students, I vow. I did not think you listened to my ramblings.”

“I always listen to you. And I am curious about the rocks here. Oh, it is cold and damp!” She rubbed her arms.

“The whisky and blankets will help, if you like. What’s in that wee chest over there? Fairy treasure?”

Seeing a small wooden chest in a corner, she knelt to open it. “Nothing so special. Just folded plaids and shirts.”

“If there was any treasure here, the smugglers would have found it by now.”

“You still do not believe this,” she said.

“Some. But whatever can be explained rationally is good too. Though fairy treasure makes a far better legend than smugglers mucking about in a cave.”

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