Sarah Gabriel by To Wed a Highland Bride

Author:To Wed a Highland Bride
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Tea was supper after all, James discovered: a simple, generous spread served in the dining room, where he now sat with Elspeth and Mrs. Graeme. He glanced around the small, cozy room with its robin’s-egg-blue walls and creaking wood-planked floor, and at the table crisp white linens, delicate china dishes, and a silver ser vice that even his fussy aunt would be proud to lay out. The fare was excellent, too—hot rolls and salted butter, cold sliced beef and lamb, rowan jelly and sweet custard, and a variety of small cakes and biscuits, as well as steaming hot tea. Mrs. Graeme poured, and he noted that all but he added liberal sugar and cream. He had always taken his tea strong, fragrant, and unsweetened.

His Aunt Rankin, James thought, would have her nose out of joint when she discovered that the Highlands was not the crude, backward place she believed it to be, but quite civilized. She had maintained that opinion all her life, even when her sister, Lady Struan, had moved to Struan House. Lady Rankin had refused to send her wards, James and Fiona, to the Highlands to see their grandparents but for a week or two at a time, now and then. “You will catch your death of cold up there, and come home undisciplined and starved for civilization,” she had claimed.

That, of course, had never happened. He and Fiona had hunted for rocks, and Fiona had studied Gaelic, and each time James left Struan, he only wanted to go back. By the time he left Eton for Oxford and then University of Glasgow, and finally a teaching position in Edinburgh, he was too busy to visit his grandmother often. Thanks to his great-aunt’s over-bearing nature, he had not formed a habit of summers spent in the Highlands, though he would not have objected.

Now, seated in the pleasant dining room, he glanced through the window at another stunning view of the mountains, and felt—well, at home, if he dared admit it. Or at least a place he could imagine as home. The warmth of this home and its inhabitants helped enhance that sense.

Mrs. Graeme poured the tea and filled their plates according to their whims—cold meat and rolls for each, rowan jelly for him, custard and a cake for Elspeth. James watched Elspeth, admiring her stunning yet simple loveliness. She had changed her wet things for a gown of pale gray wool, her hair was softly drawn up, and small pearls dropped from her earlobes. Her shawl was of creamy wool crisscrossed with soft green, purple, and rose, with a crocheted fringe.

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

She smiled. “It’s one of my own weaving pieces. I would be honored if you would accept a similar piece for your sister. I would be happy to show you the loom later, if you…if you have time.” A blush rose high in her cheeks. He nodded, smiled.

“Please stay the night, Lord Struan,” Mrs. Graeme said. “It is going dark, and the roads will be no better on your way home than when you came.

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