Page 50 of Laird of Twilight

“Mrs. MacKimmie,” Elspeth said, feeling a hot blush. “Lord Struan was just taking me to Kilcrennan,” she went on in a rush.

“Aye,” James said, without offering an explanation. Elspeth sensed the housekeeper bursting to know, her eyes flickering from the viscount to her.

“How are the roads, Angus?” James asked.

“Not very good, sir, depending on where you go. Over to Kilcrennan, you may have some trouble at the bridge.” He peered toward Elspeth. “Good afternoon, Miss MacArthur,” he said, tipping his hat.

“Miss MacArthur had a bit of a mishap and is unable to walk home as she intended,” James said. “I have offered to drive her.”

“Oh dear, lass, are ye hurt?” Mrs. MacKimmie asked. “How good of you, sir.”

“There’s mud gushing doon the hills to swamp the road in some places,” MacKimmie said, “and trees down here and there. The auld stone bridge is nearly washed over. I wouldna go that way, sir.”

Elspeth sat silent as James thanked the ghillie, and when waving farewell, she felt a sense of relief as they rumbled forward. “Thank you for telling them little.”

“No need to explain,” he replied, “nor will they ask, I think.”

“The MacKimmies are good-hearted souls. But Willie Buchanan and the kirk minister will let everyone know our business.”

“I am sure secrets do not stay that way for long in a small glen.”

“The fairies keep their secrets. Humans have a bit more trouble with it.”

“I think you have a few secrets yourself,” he murmured.

“As do you.”

“Have you not sniffed them all out with your Highland powers?”

She lifted her chin. “Everyone but you takes me at my word.”

“I am a cautious sort. Now, I have a question for you.”

“I will not marry you.”

“I only want to ask when you might be able to assist me with my grandmother’s book.”

She looked at him from under her bonnet rim. “When would you like?”

His keen, quick glance told her all his thoughts. Immediately, she saw. He needed her—he wanted her. She caught her breath, feeling the urge herself.

She could refuse his marriage offer, but his request that she work with him meant that she could be near him a little longer. “I could come any day,” she said.

“Excellent. This is Thursday. I will fetch you Monday, how would that be?”

She nodded, heart pounding. “What about your guests?”

“They will arrive next week, but I still intend to work on Grandmother’s papers. I am not touring about with them. I need to complete the work quickly.”

“And then you will go back to Edinburgh?”

“I have lectures to prepare, and other matters to see to, so aye.”

She bounced on the seat as the gig hit a rut. James murmured about the poor roads as he guided horse and vehicle around an upward curve in the road, pausing the gig at the top. The descent looked steep, the road marred by runnels of mud. Drizzle and mist dampened Elspeth’s bonnet, plaid shawl, the lap robe tucked around her, and James’s hat and coat. The road seemed slippery under the wheels, the fog thick.

He slapped the reins, pulled the brake a bit, and guided the horse downward in silence, focused and capable. Elspeth gripped the side support and hung on.

“Devilish weather,” he muttered. “I have yet to see full sunlight. There has been mist, rain, and the deluge of the Apocalypse ever since I arrived. Perhaps your wee fairies brought us together when they sent you down a mudslide into my arms,” he drawled, “but they could give us some sunshine now.”