caves and live inside hills,” she said, feeling a little mischievous.
“I do not expect to encounter any. But I’ve made a promise, and I will honor it. Tell me about this curious fairy riding custom. I suppose you know all about it?”
“I do. They ride at the time-between-times, when the curtain between our world and theirs is very thin—dawn, twilight, midnight, mist, and so on.”
He tapped fingers on the table, thoughtful. “At times when visibility is poor enough to allow for tricks of the eye and mind. I see.”
“I think you do not, actually,” she murmured. “Though you could if you want.”
“Well, the custom seems to have frightened the living wits out of some of my staff. Between the banshee in the foyer, the ghosts in the house, and the garden fairies, two of the maidservants packed up in haste and left for Edinburgh.”
“Southrons,” she said with a little huff. “Highlanders do not mind such things.”
“Even the Highland staff has gone, now. Apparently they avoid the place this time of year.”
“They are not foolish enough to risk being takenby the Fey folk. You should not be here yourself, nor should I.”
“I am not intimidated by nonsensical tales.” He smiled then. “It is no surprise that you are an authority on this, being part fairy yourself.”
Elspeth nearly gasped. “What do you mean?”
“One of the housemaids must have seen you in the garden, and took you for a fairy. She packed her things and departed.”
“Me? She might have seen one of the Struan fairies, but not me, unless it was just before you came outside.”
“Of course there’s some explanation.” He sat back. “Entertaining stories are part and parcel of folklore, but no more than that, to my mind. By the way, Lady Struan mentioned your grandfather in her notes. She respected his knowledge concerning local tradition, and I thought it would be good to speak with him myself regarding the book.”
“She and my grandfather discussed fairy lore several times. Will you speak with him before or after he learns that I spent tonight at Struan House?” She smiled.
“Well said,” he muttered. Elspeth laughed a little. Sitting here with him, quiet and peaceful, she liked him quite a bit, despite his stubborn skepticism.
She stood. “The dishes need cleaning, but there are no servants here. I will be happy to do it.” When she began to carry her dishes to the table and washbowl, Struan took them from her. He willingly did his best to help, though Elspeth suspected he had rarely washed or dried a dish before. Within minutes, all the things were cleaned and set away, and Struan took the lamp from the big pine table.
“I’d best close up the house. There are no servants here to attend to that, either.”
“A Highland laird often sees to the shutting of his house personally, with or without a house full of servants. Even in fine houses it is the laird’s responsibility to bolt the doors.”
“I hope locking up is custom rather than necessity in this glen,” he said.
“We have not had cattle raiders or feuding clans for two generations and more. There are some smugglers in the hills, but they stay to themselves except for bringing whiskey along the lochs and rivers to the sea.” She paused. “What disturbs the peace of a house in this glen, sir, is not kept out by bolts, but by iron.”
“Iron keeps the fairies away.” He nodded. “I read about that just recently.”
“If the wildfolk want to come in, they will find a way.”
He laughed softly. She knew he thought it all harmless superstition, yet she did not resent it. Rather, she found his practical approach intriguing—wholly masculine and a bit of a challenge. She tilted her head, watching him, wondering about him. Standing in that cozy, quiet kitchen while rain pounded at the windows, she felt an unexpected sense of ease and comfort in his company. She did not want this night, this visit, to end quickly.
Tender, unforgettable
“I do not expect to encounter any. But I’ve made a promise, and I will honor it. Tell me about this curious fairy riding custom. I suppose you know all about it?”
“I do. They ride at the time-between-times, when the curtain between our world and theirs is very thin—dawn, twilight, midnight, mist, and so on.”
He tapped fingers on the table, thoughtful. “At times when visibility is poor enough to allow for tricks of the eye and mind. I see.”
“I think you do not, actually,” she murmured. “Though you could if you want.”
“Well, the custom seems to have frightened the living wits out of some of my staff. Between the banshee in the foyer, the ghosts in the house, and the garden fairies, two of the maidservants packed up in haste and left for Edinburgh.”
“Southrons,” she said with a little huff. “Highlanders do not mind such things.”
“Even the Highland staff has gone, now. Apparently they avoid the place this time of year.”
“They are not foolish enough to risk being takenby the Fey folk. You should not be here yourself, nor should I.”
“I am not intimidated by nonsensical tales.” He smiled then. “It is no surprise that you are an authority on this, being part fairy yourself.”
Elspeth nearly gasped. “What do you mean?”
“One of the housemaids must have seen you in the garden, and took you for a fairy. She packed her things and departed.”
“Me? She might have seen one of the Struan fairies, but not me, unless it was just before you came outside.”
“Of course there’s some explanation.” He sat back. “Entertaining stories are part and parcel of folklore, but no more than that, to my mind. By the way, Lady Struan mentioned your grandfather in her notes. She respected his knowledge concerning local tradition, and I thought it would be good to speak with him myself regarding the book.”
“She and my grandfather discussed fairy lore several times. Will you speak with him before or after he learns that I spent tonight at Struan House?” She smiled.
“Well said,” he muttered. Elspeth laughed a little. Sitting here with him, quiet and peaceful, she liked him quite a bit, despite his stubborn skepticism.
She stood. “The dishes need cleaning, but there are no servants here. I will be happy to do it.” When she began to carry her dishes to the table and washbowl, Struan took them from her. He willingly did his best to help, though Elspeth suspected he had rarely washed or dried a dish before. Within minutes, all the things were cleaned and set away, and Struan took the lamp from the big pine table.
“I’d best close up the house. There are no servants here to attend to that, either.”
“A Highland laird often sees to the shutting of his house personally, with or without a house full of servants. Even in fine houses it is the laird’s responsibility to bolt the doors.”
“I hope locking up is custom rather than necessity in this glen,” he said.
“We have not had cattle raiders or feuding clans for two generations and more. There are some smugglers in the hills, but they stay to themselves except for bringing whiskey along the lochs and rivers to the sea.” She paused. “What disturbs the peace of a house in this glen, sir, is not kept out by bolts, but by iron.”
“Iron keeps the fairies away.” He nodded. “I read about that just recently.”
“If the wildfolk want to come in, they will find a way.”
He laughed softly. She knew he thought it all harmless superstition, yet she did not resent it. Rather, she found his practical approach intriguing—wholly masculine and a bit of a challenge. She tilted her head, watching him, wondering about him. Standing in that cozy, quiet kitchen while rain pounded at the windows, she felt an unexpected sense of ease and comfort in his company. She did not want this night, this visit, to end quickly.
Tender, unforgettable
Similar Books
