Laird of Twilight (The Whisky Lairds, Book 1): Historical Scottish Romance (The Whisky Lairds Series) by King Susan & Gabriel Sarah

Author:King, Susan & Gabriel, Sarah [King, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781644571163
Publisher: ePublishing Works!
Published: 2019-11-18T16:00:00+00:00

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Tea was supper after all, James discovered, a generous spread served in the dining room. He joined Elspeth and Mrs. Graham, and as they chatted, he glanced around the small, cozy room with its blue walls, creaking wooden floor, and aged but gleaming furnishings. The table was set with crisp white linens, delicate china dishes, and a silver service that even his fussy aunt would be proud to claim.

The fare was excellent: hot rolls and salted butter, cold sliced beef and lamb, rowan jelly and sweet custard, a variety of small cakes and biscuits, and a rich brew of steaming black tea. Mrs. Graham poured, encouraging Lord Struan to add cream and sugar and help himself liberally to whatever he liked.

His Aunt Rankin, James thought, might have to admit that the Highlands was not a crude and backward place at all, but quite civilized. She had maintained that opinion all her life, and had reluctantly sent her wards, James and Fiona, up to the Highlands to visit their grandparents. “You will catch your death of colds up there, and come home undisciplined and having to be educated all over again,” she had claimed more than once. “Although it is said to be a pretty place,” she said begrudgingly.

Of course, he and his sister had never become sick or unruly. They had happily searched for rocks in their grandfather’s company, and quick-witted Fiona had learned a good bit of Gaelic. Each time James had departed the Highlands and Struan House, he had longed to go back. By the time he had gone from Eton to Oxford and then Glasgow, later achieving a teaching position in Edinburgh, he was too busy to visit his widowed grandmother often, although he had always craved to spend more time in the Highlands.

Now, here, glancing through the window at a stunning view of the mountains, he felt at home. The warmth of the place and its inhabitants created that sense, and he savored it quietly.

Mrs. Graham poured liberal amounts of tea and filled their plates with cold meat and rolls, custard and cakes. James watched Elspeth, admiring her simple loveliness in the gray gown, her hair softly drawn up, small pearls dropping from her earlobes. Her shawl was a crisscross of soft green, lavender, and rose yarns.

“A handsome shawl, Miss MacArthur,” he said. “My sister would admire it.”

She smiled. “Thank you. It is one of my own weavings. I would be honored if you would accept a similar shawl as a gift for your sister.”

“She would like that,” he murmured.

“I could show you the looms later if you have time.” A blush seeped into her cheeks. He nodded, smiled.

“Please stay the night, Lord Struan,” Mrs. Graham said. “It is going dark, and the roads will not be improved yet.”

“I’ll gratefully accept the hospitality if the MacArthurs do not mind.”

“Of course we would not,” Elspeth said.

“Mr. MacArthur will join us shortly,” Mrs. Graham said. He learned during their conversation that the housekeeper was a cousin through Mr.

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