December 1822
“We cannot fit another blasted thing into that old carriage,” James said, stepping back to survey the landau, packed full of belongings, most not his own. His breaths misted in the chilly air, and his boot heels crunched on the snow-pack along the drive. “We may have to take two carriages. Are you sure the loom is necessary?”
“Aye,” Elspeth said, walking beside him. “If we are agreed to spend the winter in Edinburgh so you can finish your lecture series, then I must have my loom to keep me occupied, or I shall be bored to tears.” She smiled impishly, beautifully, looking at him from under the brim of her dark green velvet bonnet, her gloved hands cozied inside the ermine muff he had given her last week for Christmas.
Under her left-hand glove, she wore the amethyst ring he had commissioned for their wedding in November. He knew she loved it for the joy it represented, for its sparkle, and for its secret fairy origin.
“Bored to tears!” He laughed, feeling good-natured despite the dismantled loom precariously strapped to the back of the landau, where MacKimmie had secured it for the long journey. Lady Rankin would no doubt call them gypsies when they arrived at James’s Edinburgh house, be that as it may. He drew Elspeth into his arms. “I can think of ways to keep you occupied, none of them boring.” He nuzzled her cheek, which bloomed pink from the cold.
“I would like that,” she murmured. “But you will be busy with lectures and writing and your beloved rocks. What will I do without my loom and my work?”
“Lucie Graham will drag you off to teas and parties, excited to introduce her dear cousin as the new Lady Struan. You will have little time for your craft.”
“Once word gets around that the eccentric Lady Struan would rather sit home and weave than attend parties, there will be very few invitations.”
“Nonsense. The eccentric, unique, brilliant, and ravishingly beautiful Lady Struan,” he said, “will make weaving a new rage among the ladies of Edinburgh.”
She laughed. “I am also bringing the loom so that I can finish a plaid for my husband. It is Highland custom. Truly it should be woven in a Highland home, but it is not done yet, and so we will make an exception.”
“You are always the exception, my girl,” he murmured.
“Remember you promised that we will be back at Struan House by spring, and stay there until winter comes again. Hopefully the handsome and very smart Lord Struan will find enough to do there until the university opens in September.”
“I will have more than enough to do on the estate, after being away the winter. Angus MacKimmie will do a fine job taking care of things until then. He is looking into having that old bridge repaired in the spring.” He nodded to Angus, who nodded back, busy tying the last of the luggage to the back of the vehicle. “Elspeth, I have been thinking,” James said more seriously. “This may be my last semester of lectures for a little while.”
“Is it so? But you love it.”
“I have a good deal of research to do to write my new geology book.”
“So we might live year-round at Struan?”
“We will still need to go south now and then, to be pragmatic about it.”
“You are always pragmatic,” she said, and pouted a little, teasing him.
“Grandmother’s fairy book is nearly complete, just awaiting Fiona’s sketches, which she will finish this spring, I hope. Soon the text will go into Sir Walter’s capable hands for him to read. And I will do some research while in Edinburgh about the new field of geognosy, and then I will need to spend a good deal of time exploring Scotland’s ancient rock layers in the Highlands.”
Elspeth nodded. “Good. And I want to stay near Kilcrennan to be here for my grandfather.”
“He is a happy fellow now, quite content with his Peggy,” James said, thinking of that small wedding, just two weeks earlier, “but they will both be glad you will be nearby more often.”
“They are very content, as if they had been married for a long time, and not just recently.”
“I will not mind being a Highland laird for much of the year,” he admitted. “I think I can become a visiting scholar at university, rather than a resident lecturer. I will have a word with the dean about it.”
“Oh, excellent! Grandda is slower at his weaving these days,” she said, and knew James she meant without the fairy spell, rather than as a sign of aging. “There is a great deal of work to be done at Kilcrennan, with the orders for tartan growing all the time. I feel I am needed there.”
“We will find a way to manage all of it. Ah, MacKimmie is nearly done—are you ready to depart, Lady Struan?”
“Nearly. Grandda and Peggy said they would drive up this morning to see us. Have we packed everything? I suppose you have weighed the carriage down with your rocks and pretty crystals and agates, and there will be no room for two passengers. James?” she asked, for he paused, gazing at her. Now he cupped her cheek gently.
“I will never be sure what happened on that mountain,” he murmured. “I sometimes wonder if I did hit my head on a rock that day, and dreamed it all.”
She tugged on his hat brim and made a face. “It was no dream, Lord Struan. It happened to me as well. What we have now, dear husband, is the very best of dreams. Here they come,” she said then, turning. “They wanted to bid us farewell.”
James glanced there, but saw only the empty lane leading to the house. “Odd.”
“Coaches are coming,” Angus called then from his higher post on the carriage. “A gig and a barouche. Black barouche, sir, very fine.”
“Eldin,” James muttered. “What the devil does he want?” He walked a little down the lane, and Elspeth came with him as the two vehicles came over a low hill. “There is Donal’s gig, but why is Eldin coming here as well?”
“I cannot imagine. Since he withdrew his offer for Struan lands, I thought it would be the last we would see of him.”
“Until my grandmother’s will is finalized—until all the conditions are met by my family—he has no need to contact us.”
Elspeth tucked her hand inside the crook of his elbow. “He did help search for us when they thought we were lost. Perhaps he truly cares and came to say farewell. He seems a lonely fellow to me.”
“Do not let him fool your tender heart. He wanted the treasure, so he joined the search. And the pocket mine will stay our secret. He will not have it.”
She left his side to dash forward, and James came along more slowly. His leg was much improved, and he managed without a cane most days. Highland air and exercise, he was sure. Fairy magic, Elspeth insisted. Whatever it was, his leg had nearly regained its strength. So had his reserved heart, he thought to himself.
The gig carrying Donal and Peggy rolled to a halt, and they climbed down to wrap Elspeth in embraces and warm, delighted conversation. James greeted them, though distracted by the approaching barouche.
“We will see you in Edinburgh,” Donal said. “I must deliver new plaids to the tailors next month, and Peggy wants to see the city. What is that raven-hearted rascal doing here?” He turned.
“I do not know,” James muttered. He walked toward the barouche as it rolled to a halt, a riderless, saddled horse tied to the back.
“Eldin,” he called, stepping forward to open the door. “Greetings. How may we help you on this cold morning?”
Eldin stepped down from the carriage, taller even than James, his greatcoat black as a raven’s wings. He doffed his hat and murmured a greeting. “Struan. It is I who have come to help you.”
“How nice to see you, Lord Eldin.” Elspeth joined them and set her gloved hand on James’s arm. He did not take his gaze from his cousin.
“Good morning, Lady Struan,” Eldin said, taking Elspeth’s hand. “Excellent to see you again. You are looking in fine health. Both of you.”
“We are almost ready to leave, but we would be happy to offer you some hot tea on this chilly day. We have time,” Elspeth said, glancing at James. “My father and stepmother would enjoy it too before we all depart.”
“I regret I cannot join you, as I must return to Auchnashee,” Eldin said. “The castle refurbishments are going well, provided I am there to supervise. I came here only to ask if you would convey my best to Fiona and extend to her my invitation to stay at Auchnashee when she comes north. Free of charge, of course,” he said stiffly. “We are family. And friends, of course.”
James stared, wondering at the man’s motive, but then realized that Eldin might be trying to be generous. “I was not aware that Fiona was coming north.”
“I believe so,” Eldin said with a tight smile. James saw a glimmer of something in his cousin’s eyes, a vulnerability—or a hope. Then it was gone. Did their cousin actually care about Fiona? Interesting, he thought, frowning a little.
“We will give Fiona your best,” Elspeth said.
“You could send a note,” James said. “No need to drive out here.”
“I also came,” Eldin went on, “to offer you the use of my barouche. I will not need it out here often, and my driver will bring it back to Auchnashee once you are in the city. It will allow Lady Struan to ride in comfort to Edinburgh. It does not do for the viscount and his bride to travel like gypsies.”
James nodded. “I see. How did you know we were leaving today?”
“I had a letter from Lady Rankin, who feared you might strap all your belongings to the old landau like a pair of tinkers. She is not certain what a Highland girl might do.” He smiled, flat but sincerely. “I assured her in my reply that the new Lady Struan would be an exemplary viscountess and a credit to the family.”
“Thank you,” Elspeth said. “We are honored by your offer. Are we not, James?” She pressed her elbow against his side.
“Of course,” James said. “Thank you.”
Eldin inclined his head and spoke to his driver. Politely refusing the repeated offer of hospitality, he mounted his horse, untied by his driver, and rode away. The driver stayed with the carriage, talking quietly with MacKimmie.
James stared. “What the devil,” he muttered. Elspeth slipped her arm around his waist.
“We may never puzzle him out,” she said. “Let us go inside to warm up before we take our tinker parade across the Highlands. MacKimmie can drive the gypsy landau, and Eldin’s driver can take us in the barouche. It will be quite the parade!”
James laughed, hugging her close, his breath and hers coming in foggy clouds. Elspeth’s nose was pink. He kissed it. “I thought you were in no hurry to go to the city.”
“I would go anywhere with you, Struan, city or mountain, even if all you want to do is look for old rocks.”
He kissed her, taking time for it, tender and slow, despite the cold. “I am grateful for your patience, truly,” he whispered.
“The barouche will be very comfortable,” she said, snuggling closer.
“I would not put it past my cousin to have put some kind of spell on it.” He almost believed Eldin capable of it.
“The only spell inside that carriage,” she whispered, “is the one we will set ourselves.” She leaned toward him for another kiss.