“Look! Highland natives!” Lady Rankin pointed as the open carriage rumbled toward Loch Katrine, having left Struan House more than an hour earlier. Elspeth glanced where the woman indicated and saw two Highland men and a young boy walking along. They wore tartan kilts, loose shirts, jackets and flat bonnets, and as the coach passed, they waved and doffed their caps.
“Please do not call them natives, Aunt,” Fiona said, seated across from Elspeth, who sat beside Struan. Elspeth noted that Mr. MacKimmie, driving the vehicle, was dressed in his usual kilt and jacket, like many Highlanders, but he had appeared not to hear their conversation. As the carriage swayed and lumbered up a slope along the rough road, and Elspeth grabbed the edge of the leather bench seat.
“Well, they look like Hottentots,” Lady Rankin defended. “Though they greeted us nicely enough. My gracious, your coachman drives fast!” She grabbed a strap by the half-door.
“Some of the tourist coaches fly very fast through here on their way to Loch Katrine,” Elspeth said. “Grandfather says you could set a tea-table on their coattails, flying out so straight.” James and Fiona laughed.
“So I hear that the bridge, the Brig o’ Turk in Sir Walter’s poem, is in your glen, James,” Lady Rankin said, pointing toward a stone bridge in the distance.
“In the glen, aye, but not that one there, which was damaged by the recent rains,” James answered. “I thought of the Brig o’ Turk when you read to us from The Lady of the Lake this morning, Aunt.” He glanced at Elspeth.
She smiled faintly, remembering how the lady had droned on imperiously at breakfast. Tugging at her gray bonnet, she folded her hands, gloved in pale kid leather, in the lap of her gray gown, which she wore with a dark green spencer and a tartan shawl. Her leather boots were sturdy enough for hillwalking, and she felt ready for a long outing in the cool autumn weather. She thought of Charlotte Sinclair, who had appeared a veritable vision this morning in a fetching dress and pelisse of pale blue with a matching bonnet, though her black slippers would not be up to the walking in store for them today. For a moment, glancing at James, Elspeth was glad that Charlotte rode in a second coach with Patrick, Sir Philip, and Donal MacArthur. Her grandfather would have little patience with Charlotte’s ways, and Elspeth was sorry for that, but happy to be traveling with James. Whatever adventure lay ahead, she would not think about it for now.
Watching the countryside fly by while MacKimmie drove with gusto, Elspeth enjoyed the comfort of the open coach, a landau with two horses. Lady Rankin had complained, wanting a coach and four, but Angus MacKimmie had insisted that a larger coach and four was poorly suited to the Highland terrain. “We will be lucky to come near the loch in this carriage,” he had said. “There are no good roads over the rocky ground ahead.”
Fiona began discussing geological matters with James, and Elspeth smiled, listening, though she did not understand the details of their conversation. She had found a friend in James’s twin sister, she was sure. The engagement would be kept secret even from Grandda and Peggy for now, and she knew she could trust Fiona and Patrick, too, to keep the news to themselves.
“That is Loch Achray,” she said then, pointing as the coach rolled onward.
Lady Rankin consulted a small guidebook. “It looks scarcely more than a pool. How disappointing. That is a Highland loch?”
“A small one—what we call a lochan,” Elspeth explained, “and very beautiful in autumn.” Gold and russet trees, oak and birch, covered the hillsides along with clustered evergreen trees.
Fiona unfolded a paper that Sir Walter Scott had provided for them. “Sir Walter reminds us here that ‘the impressive Trossach Mountains are not the whole of the Highlands, but merely the fringe of the great Highland fastnesses, wildish and remote, further north. The Trossachs are the great massive slopes west of Loch Achray, between that and Loch Katrine, in a dell of woodland and cliff .’” Fiona looked up. “It is a noble and picturesque scenery. No wonder it is so popular, not only due to Sir Walter but for its own spectacular beauty.”
“You must make some sketches of the scenery, dear,” Lady Rankin said. “I would like a visual memoir of what we see today.”
“My little skill could not do justice to the subject, madam, but I will try.”
James looked around as well. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Lord Eldin is opening a hotel somewhere in the area. Auchnashee, he called it.”
“I know the place,” Elspeth said. “An old castle ruin on the western shore of Loch Katrine. Lord Eldin has a good deal of work ahead of him if he thinks to establish a hotel there.”
“He has the funds for it, and it is a good location, popular with tourists, I would think,” Fiona said.
“Does this road go all around the loch?” Lady Rankin asked.
“It ends near the loch,” Elspeth said. “Once we go through the pass of Achray, we will come near the loch. Carriages can go no further from that point without endangering the horses and even the passengers. There is a mountain track along the side of the loch, and a wide heath, perfect for a vigorous walk if you feel up to it.”
“I had no idea the area was so rustic. I thought it was ready for tourists to simply see without having to heave about like mountaineers.” Sighing indignantly, Lady Rankin thrust out her considerable bosom and fanned herself with the little book of poetry.
“We can hire ponies or walk,” James suggested. “And there should be boats.”
“The ferryman, Mr. MacDuff, lives in a cottage by the lochside and has a little inn. He hires boats to tourists,” Elspeth said. “He will take us round, and his neighbor rents ponies if you care to do that. Mrs. MacDuff could prepare luncheon for us at the inn, though Mrs. MacKimmie sent baskets of food along, and there will be plenty for all. We can explore together or on our own.”
“I would like to explore on foot,” James said. Elspeth nodded, aware that he meant to climb up the mountainside and look for caves.
“‘The Trossachs area of Loch Katrine has a striking majesty,’” Fiona read from Sir Walter’s letter. “‘Ben Venue towers on its southwestern shore with true grandeur, its massive shoulders crafted of ancient rock, from the Goblin’s Cave at its foot to the great crystals in its crown.’”
“Goblin’s Cave?” James sat forward. “That sounds intriguing.”
“Sir Walter mentions it.” Lady Rankin thumbed through her well-worn copy of The Lady of the Lake. “Where...ah, here it is.”
By many a bard, in Celtic tongue,
Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung:
A softer name the Saxons gave,
And call’d the grot the Goblin-cave
“A grotto, as at Struan House,” Elspeth said.
“My sister fancied herself an expert on fairies and the like,” Lady Rankin said of Lady Struan. “She said that the grotto at Struan was modeled after a natural one in the Highlands.”
Elspeth and James exchanged glances. “Very interesting,” James murmured. “We may want to explore that.”
“Do you go ahead and look for little rocks, James,” Lady Rankin said. “I have no taste for hillwalking. A sail on the loch sounds just the thing. Fiona will come with me to make sketches for a keepsake. I think we can persuade others too. Miss MacArthur?”
“I would like to see the grotto cave,” Elspeth said.
“Miss MacArthur may come with me if she likes,” James offered. “Perhaps we can persuade your grandfather to act as our guide, while Mr. MacKimmie and Mr. MacDuff guide the others around.” Elspeth nodded eagerly.
“Invite Charlotte to go with you,” Lady Rankin suggested.
“She is not dressed for hillwalking,” Fiona pointed out. “She wore impractical shoes. We will ask her to sail with us instead. Though it may rain later.”
Elspeth glanced at the sky, where gray clouds rolled overhead and swirled around the mountaintops above the Pass of Achray. The wind was brisk and cool, the view wide and awe-inspiring. Sensing the elemental power in it, she drew a deep breath, sitting straighter, feeling a little of the strength of the earth.
Fiona was reading aloud from the folded page. “‘Ben Venue will appeal to ardent admirers of great landscape beauty. Its black and towering sides have a certain rich glossiness, and its craggy dignity houses many mysterious caves replete with legends.’ Glossy?” she wondered. “Why would that be, James?”
He glanced toward the black mountain, its multiple peaks above the low hills edging the pass. “Deposits of mica, I suppose, perhaps with granite and crystal. I am most intrigued.”
“Here, listen to this,” Fiona said. “‘One of Venue’s Gaelic names means ‘mountain of caves.’ The one most easily found is Uamn nan Uruiskin, or the Goblin Cave, along its lower eastern slope near the Coire nan Uruiskin, or Goblin Corrie.’ How intriguing, though rather spooky. I will leave that to braver souls.”
“You’re not the least bit of a coward,” James told his twin, “but today you might prefer to sail so that you can sketch the hills from the perspective of the water.”
“If it helps you, dear brother,” Fiona murmured, “I would be happy to do that.”
“The ferryman keeps a rowing boat at this end of the loch,” Elspeth said, “though there is a steamer further up at Glengyle, I believe. If the wind stays down, the loch will be smooth, and either way, the beautiful scenery is well worth the trip.”
“A rowing boat?” Lady Rankin frowned. “Well, I did not come all this way to sit in an inn sipping tea and gazing through window glass. We will take the smaller boat.”
“Well done, Aunt,” James said.
“Let me read to you about Ellen’s Isle, named for the heroine of Sir Walter’s poem,” Lady Rankin said, flipping pages in her book. She began to read aloud.
Elspeth closed her eyes and listened, and tried to quell her fears. She did not know what the day would bring, but the Sight never showed her own future. She sighed.
Then she felt James’s hand, strong and sure, slide under the cover of her plaid. She savored the quick, warm, secret interlacing of their fingers, and the silent message there—love, strength, passion, hope—while his aunt’s voice droned on.
The coach drew to a halt, and the knotting of their fingers withdrew.
In the ferryman’s yard, outside a house that overlooked the lower end of the loch, both coaches drew up. Mr. MacDuff and his wife came out to greet them, and soon the group was served tea in the parlor, hot, fragrant and sweet, with warm oatcakes and rowan jelly. Seated in the small, simply furnished room, James looked out a large window that boasted views of Ben Venue to one side, and Ben A’an to the east, bordering the pass of Achray through which the coaches had come.
James gratefully accepted a dose of whisky in his tea from Mr. MacDuff’s silver flask. “The best in the Highlands,” the man said. “Made locally. You will not find better.” He winked, then poured a taste in the tea for Mr. MacArthur, Patrick, and Philip. The women, when offered, shook their heads.
“Is this fairy whisky?” James asked Elspeth quietly.
“Oh no, that is rare stuff indeed. This is a good local brew. Our cousin is not the only one who makes fine whisky in these mountains.” She smiled.
“Who will sail over the water with us?” Mr. MacDuff asked then, as they others discussed who would sail and who would like to go hillwalking. James could only hope they all, but for a certain few, would rather go out on the water.
“James, will you come in the boat?” Charlotte asked.
“I am keen to explore the mountain slopes for rock samples,” he said, giving his leather bag a little kick to demonstrate his intention. “I am searching for indications of ancient volcanic activity.” He thought that might put her off sufficiently.
She scowled. “What of your leg? Can you walk that far without trouble?”
He shrugged. “I do not mind the exercise,” he said, seeing Elspeth and his siblings glance toward him. None of them would have made such a direct, all but rude, reference to his lameness.
“I would be happy to accompany you on the boat, Miss Sinclair,” Sir Philip said. “I’m interested in seeing Ellen’s Isle. Struan will have a wide view from his mountain top, but he will miss a sublime trip over the water.”
“I am more interested in geology today,” James said. Indeed, he was anxious to depart, thinking Elspeth and Donal were as well. They had their heads together in quiet, earnest conversation, and he sensed some tension between them. Patrick joined them, having left briefly to inquire about water transport. “We hired two boats,” he reported, “so that we can enjoy the view from the loch. James, you and Mr. MacArthur are for the mountain, is that so?”
“Aye,” James said.
“My granddaughter will accompany us,” Donal said.
Charlotte whirled. “Miss MacArthur is going hillwalking with you?”
“I will,” Elspeth answered. “I am interested in seeing the grotto.”
“Then Fiona should go with you. She quite likes rocks,” Charlotte said, giving Elspeth a sidelong glance.
“My dear,” Fiona said gently, leaning forward in her chair. “Miss MacArthur is used to rugged Highland terrain and is dressed for it today. Naturally, she wants to accompany her grandfather. You will be far more comfortable on a boat outing, where we can all relax at our leisure. I do enjoy searching for fossils, but today I want to sketch and be quite lazy, and take in all the beauty that surrounds this pretty loch.”
“I thought today would be a tour for everyone together,” Charlotte complained.
“Miss Sinclair, it would be my pleasure to show you the shores of Ellen’s Isle,” Philip said magnanimously. He offered her his arm, and Charlotte relaxed a little, even laughed.
Setting down the last of his tea, James picked up his bag of geological tools and followed Elspeth and her grandfather outside to the inn yard. The wind was brisk and damp, and clouds glowered over the mountain peak.
Donal offered him a walking stick, a thick and gnarly thing, very sturdy. James was glad to have it, knowing it would suit strenuous hiking better than his customary cane. Though his leg often ached in rainy and cold weather, he had noticed that his injured leg had given him little complaint lately, perhaps due to the refreshing Highland air, said to be excellent for health. Whether a result of good air or exercise, he was glad of the improvement. His doctor had warned him that he might limp and have pain all his life, but James had done his best to keep the injury from restricting him, and he had found it troubled him far less in the Highlands. He had not expected that.
Elspeth grasped a walking stick in her hand too, and she smiled up at him.
“Ready?” Patrick asked all. He turned to James. “We will meet you back here in the late afternoon. Best of luck with your rock hunting, James.”
“Bring back souvenirs,” Philip called. “Diamonds and sapphires!”
James laughed. “More likely rock crystals if we’re fortunate. Late afternoon it is, then.” He turned to Elspeth and Donal. “Are you ready?”
“We are,” Elspeth said, her tone a little too bright.
Elspeth was quiet as they walked together over heathery moors toward the foothills of the mountain. Those sloped abruptly away from the heath, and they climbed steadily, saying little. Partway up the slope, Elspeth paused to catch her breath, standing on scruffy rock-studded turf.
The view was simply magnificent here. The smooth, steely surface of the loch stretched out below, fringed by heathery moorland with blazing autumn trees to one side and the dark slopes of the mountain to the other. Above them towered the peaks of Ben Venue, on whose lower slopes they stood. Far above, a ring of cloud obscured the top.
Donal paused, Elspeth too, and James stood with them, shading his eyes with a hand. “Mica and schist,” he said after an assessing glance, and pointed. “Up there. That glossy black rock, do you see? The upper slopes contain a good bit of that, along with shale scree cascading down the sides. The schist indicates massive heat early in the mountain’s formation. A good sign for my research.”
“I am glad. But I hope we find more than evidence for your research.” Elspeth found his geological explanations quite interesting, but there was far more on her mind than learning about rocks today.
“I am aware.” Shouldering his leather pack on its long strap, he walked ahead.
“Why are we here, if not for the lad to find rocks?” Donal called from ahead.
“We are looking for the Goblin Cave. Do you know it, Grandda?” Elspeth asked.
Donal frowned, stopping so that James and Elspeth came closer. “Coire nan Uruiskin? Why do you want to go there? Is it for your rocks, Struan?”
“That,” James said, “and Elspeth and I want to look for the fairy treasure.”
“Here?” Donal asked. “The goblin corrie—I searched it years ago. It is just a corrie near a small cave. You will find nothing but rock. But that may please you.”
“We want to look again. Grandda, we have something to tell you,” Elspeth said.
Folding his hands on his walking stick, Donal looked stern. “I am listening.”
“I have agreed to marry Lord Struan.” She reached out to take James’s arm.
Her grandfather grinned suddenly. “Excellent! Will you take her to Edinburgh, Struan? And soon?”
“We have not decided yet,” Elspeth said quickly.
“Elspeth gave me one condition,” James said. “She asked my promise that we find the fairy treasure today.”
“Good luck to us, then. That gold will not be found here or anywhere, I think,” Donal said. “Do you know what they say of Coire nan Uruiskin? Urisks are small goblin creatures who haunt rocky places and cause mischief. Some say they are fairies, some not. But they are helpful to humans if treated politely.”
“Are the Fey rumored to be up here as well?” Elspeth asked.
“The Sidhe do come up here, so they say. Inside that wee cave, there is said to be a portal to the fairy realm. But I have not found it.”
“It may be good place to search for the treasure, Grandda.”
“Do you think their treasure would be just under their noses, in their own parlor?” Donal asked. “Then it would not be missing. It has to be elsewhere, and we must find it.”
“Grandda, perhaps you should tell Struan why this is so important to you.” Donal MacArthur sighed, nodded.
James reached into his coat pocket and drew out a folded paper. “First, I wanted to show this to both of you. I found it in my grandmother’s manuscript. She wrote of a weaver and his son who met with the fairies. And she mentioned a girl-child who was given into the weaver’s care.”
“Did she now,” Donal said, and did not sound surprised.
“Let me see.” James handed her the page and she read quickly, next handing it to her grandfather. He read it, nodding, and circled it back to James.
“That is the story you have always told me, Grandda,” Elspeth said. “I did not know you have shared it with Lady Struan.”
“I told her some of it. How she knew the rest about Niall, how he was taken, I cannot say. But what she has written here is true. Struan, you must believe.”
“Truthfully, I am not sure what to think,” James admitted. “But if you say it is so, then I will do my best to believe it.”
“Thank you, Struan,” Donal said.
James tucked the page into his pocket. “And Elspeth’s birthday? When is that, exactly?” He looked at her. “You have never said.”
“October the twentieth,” she replied. “Four days from now.”
“I would offer felicitations,” James said, “but I think you will not be happy until you see the twenty-first of October.”
She smiled, then shivered and drew her plaid shawl snug against the chill wind. “Grandda, where are the corrie and the cave?”
“I tell you, the treasure is not there. We should stay away.”
“I want to see the place,” James said. “There is bound to be something of value for my work.” He reached into his leather knapsack and brought out a stone, cradled in his hand. “There could be other stones like this one.”
“The wee blue stone! You have it!” Donal reached out for it, turning it in his hand. “Oh aye, this is the one.”
“It was in a collection in the house. But if it belongs to you, please take it,” James said. “But I would like to know where it was found originally. Blue agate is rare, and a deposit here could be an important geological discovery.”
“I did not find this one. It was given to me by a fairy queen years ago, to be used as a key to their realm on the days whenever I go there—”
“Go there?” James repeated. “To the fairy world?”
“I tried to tell you,” Elspeth said. “You thought it a lot of fairy nonsense.”
“Most do,” Donal remarked. “Aye, lad, I have seen similar stones in this mountain, and in the hill behind Struan House. You should look there.”
“I shall. For now, let us proceed up to the cave.”
As Donal led them up the slope, James walked steadily with the aid of the stick, his stride sure, his gait slightly uneven. Yet Elspeth knew that no matter how strenuous the walk was in places, he would not complain, would not stop.
The sky clouded over in a cool mist, and soon Elspeth felt raindrops on her head and cheek as she and the men took the upward slope at a good pace. They advanced along a crooked path formed in a narrow dip between two foothills, like a tuck in a quilt. A runnel of water trickled downward, cutting between rock and turf. Ahead lay a vast piling of rock and scree that had tumbled down eons ago from the massive black shoulders of the mountaintop far above.
Now and then, James stopped, and Elspeth and Donal waited. She thought he wanted to rest his leg, though he did not mention it. Instead, he picked up rocks and examined them, sometimes cracking away small samples to drop into his sack, sometimes simply skittering them down the mountainside. He and Donal sent a few flying, with chuckles, which seemed to relieve some of the tension that had gathered. Elspeth thought that the mountainside had begun to feel ominous and secretive. She shuddered, looking around.
“Limestone with marine fossils, and signs of the Old Red Sandstone layer,” James said, half talking to himself. He moved to another section. “This seems volcanic beneath,” he murmured to no one in particular. With a pencil and small notebook, he wrote something down, muttering. “Granite and basalt. Fascinating.”
Elspeth smiled, happy to see him content in his work. She looked over at her grandfather, who was shaking his head.
“What is so interesting about a lot of old rock?” he asked, and she laughed.
Along the way, James brushed his hand over a section of dull gray rock as if it was the finest marble. He picked up a few small stones nearby, handing them to Elspeth. She gasped when she saw the glitter of perfectly formed crystals, clear and peat-colored.
“Rock crystal and cairngorm,” he explained. “Keep them. We will have them made into a brooch or a ring if you like.” Thrilled by the simple beauty of the stones, she thanked him, tucking the crystals in her skirt pocket.
“A memento of the day,” she said, with the sudden fervent hope that she would come safely down from the mountain, and James and Donal as well.
“This way. Sideways over the slope is easier here than straight up,” Donal said, leading them to the left. The ground was turf and rock, rough and runneled, and they relied on walking sticks and helping hands as they went. Above, Elspeth saw a desolate expanse of fallen rock, while overhead, mist gathered. Rain now pattered lightly over their heads and shoulders, splattering on the rocks.
“Here is the corrie. The Goblin Cave is just there,” Donal said, pointing again.
Ahead was a curved hollow of rock and a heavy scattering of loose stones—the corrie—and to one side, cutting into a cliff littered with scree, a dark opening in a fold of broad rock. With a low exclamation, James began to move toward it.
“Struan, wait,” Donal said. “Here you see it. But we cannot go inside. It is not safe.”
“We will be careful,” James said, as her grandfather shook his head soberly.
“Grandda, we came all this way. We have to go inside,” Elspeth said.
“The power of the Fey is too strong here. We should stay away. Though you both have more protection against them than I do.”
“Why is that?” James asked.
“Love,” Donal said simply. “It bonds you and guards you. Love is what will break their hold over Elspeth. Though it would be stronger if—” He stopped.
“If what?” Elspeth asked. At that moment, watching the two men she loved most in the world, she could not imagine anything stronger than what she felt.
“Stronger if you two were wed already. But the love is there, and should be enough.”
“Should be?” Elspeth said, feeling a qualm. The rain came down in earnest now. She reached out a hand to James, and he took it. “Grandda, come inside with us. It will be dry there. And we can search together for the fairy gold..”
“It is not there. I told you, they will not have it there, in their own place.”
“Mr. MacArthur, may I see the agate?” When Donal handed it to him, James held the rock up to the light. “Ah, just as I hoped. Come look. The hollow, and the crystal formation here—there is a definite similarity to the landscape—do you see?”
Elspeth took the stone, holding it up to compare as James had done. The shapes and points came together into an image, and she gasped. “The crystal looks like the cave, but in miniature! How could that be?”
Donal took the agate next, frowning as he held it up to the light. “I have seen this stone many times, and I have been up here , but I never noticed that before. How did you discover it?”
“Elspeth noticed the cave in Niall’s painting, and last night I noticed similarities between the agate and the picture. That is why the Goblin Cave seems the best place to look for the treasure, even if you have searched here before.”
“Why would Niall put that cave in his painting?” Donal was still frowning.
“He may have left a clue,” James said. “He may have intended to help his father and his daughter by showing you where to find the treasure.”
Donal tilted his head. “It sounds as if you are coming to believe in our fairies, Struan.”
James cleared his throat. “I only noticed the detail. The rest is up to you.”
“Grandda, James could be right,” Elspeth said. Her heart beat a little faster in excitement. “What if my father wanted to help, even though he could not tell you the secret directly?”
“Huh,” Donal said thoughtfully. “But I have been inside. There is nothing but rock, and signs of the smugglers who use this place now and then. There is no treasure. But there is a fairy portal, invisible but dangerous. We must stay away.”
“Nonetheless,” James said, shouldering his pack and grasping his walking stick, “I intend to go inside.”
“If you want to fetch more rocks, it is a good place for that,” Donal said.
“I intend to fulfill my promise to Elspeth. You both wait here.”
“I am coming with you,” Elspeth insisted. What if James entered that cave and never returned? She had never been sure of Donal’s fairy stories—but here and now, in this place, they seemed more real than ever.
“Any cave can be dangerous,” James said, “so you should wait here. Or you can walk back with Donal, and I will meet you later.” He kissed her cheek and turned away, but Elspeth grabbed his coat sleeve.
“I am coming with you. Grandda, please, come inside where it is dry.” The world had turned gray and misty on the mountainside. Rain fell in earnest now, wetting her bonnet and plaid, spattering and slicking over the stones.
“I am too old to bargain with the Fey.” He reached out, embraced her. “Find the gold, if it is inside there. They cannot harm you if you are with your love. That is your safety. He is your shield, and you are his.” He looked over her shoulder toward James, who was already proceeding up the slope toward the boulders that nearly obscured the cave entrance in the cliffside.
“Do come with us.” She stepped back.
“Eilidh,” he said. “You must guard yourself in the best way you can.”
Her grandfather rarely used her Gaelic name. “What is that?”
“If you were married to the man already, that would be the safest today. Love will protect you both. But a marriage bond made in love—ah, that is even stronger. If only you had married him before we came up here.” He sighed.
“That day will come soon,” she assured him.
“Eilidh.” Donal took her by the shoulders. “Marry him now, lass,” he said. “Take his hands in yours and wed him here in this old place, in the old way, before you enter that cave.”
She stepped back, astonished at the suggestion. “We will have a wedding for all to celebrate when the time comes.”
“That time is now. Give him your pledge forever, in love, before you enter that realm. Forge your bond now. A handfasting. I will witness it.”
The wind whipped hard, pushing at her back, but she stood firm. “You truly mean this.”
“I do. Go tell your man. I will wait and stand witness so all will know it was done. The Fey will know it too. Hurry.”
She paused, wondering at the strange suggestion, but then she felt, suddenly and clearly as the strike of a bell, his utter seriousness, and the truth of it. He was right. So right. She drew up her skirt hems and turned to hurry after James, who was now exploring the rock formations near the mouth of the cave.
As she approached, thunder grumbled overhead. The cave opening looked foreboding, and she stood in the rain, hearing thunder, seized with doubt and fear.
“James!” she called, coming nearer. He had knelt to examine some rocks. Waving, unhurried, he broke off stone bits with a hammer.
The black boulders that framed the entrance looked like granite sentinels as she came closer. She turned, seeing her grandfather following upward more slowly. Heart racing, thoughts spinning, she considered how best to explain her grandfather’s urgent advice, knowing how odd it would seem.
James glanced up, beckoned. “There is much limestone, with excellent patches of granite,” he said. “And traces of chalcedony, a nicely translucent variety. Flecks of obsidian, too, with mica and quartz. Granite is a composite rock,” he went on, “and the degree of chalcedony in the rubble shows there could be agate here too.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said, coming closer. Her heart was fluttering, hands shaking. “Such lovely rocks.”
“Indeed. I am hoping for something of real geological significance inside the cave. The limestone is above a layer of granite, a sign of a marine era preceded by an time of intense heat. Quite possibly, volcanic activity transformed this mountain eons ago. Is your grandfather coming with us?” He looked past her, toward Donal.
“He wants to wait, but he would like us to do something first.”
“I noticed you talking with him. He seems especially worried.”
“He is concerned for our safety. He thinks that the best way to protect us in this place is if we—” She hesitated, breathless.
But he was aiming his double magnifying lens toward the rock. “Aye? Look, an excellent example of a trilobite. Fiona will love it. Aye, we will be safe, if what?”
“If we marry before we go in there.”