“Let me start by asking what you know about…” he cleared his throat, “er…mythological Welsh characters. Or species, perhaps. I don’t know how to describe them…”
She looked at him, one eyebrow raised. No words were needed.
“Have you ever heard of anything else strange? I mean other than elves,” he added.
“Ah.” She wrinkled her nose. “Now and again, yes, but not a lot. This whole area, in fact most of Wales, is filled with amazing stories about fascinating beings, but I can’t say I’m very well read on too many of them.” She lowered her voice. “Except for elves, of course.”
“Your family doesn’t know?” He tipped his head toward the door.
“No. I don’t know how or why I was chosen, only that I can see and speak with them. I’ve never questioned it, nor mentioned it to anyone.” She paused. “Until you.”
He smiled. “I’m honoured, Elinor. Truly I am.”
“I’m still not sure why I told you, but somehow I felt I had to share my secret with you, Caleb.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” He took a breath. “Everyone has secrets, and some are best kept hidden. Others,” he paused, “others should only be shared with special people, or at special moments.”
“Is this a special moment?” Her blue eyes held his gaze. “Am I a special person?”
“Oh yes,” he breathed. “Never doubt it, love.”
“And your secret?”
“I’ll tell you when we have more time, and less chance of being overheard.”
She straightened. “I’ll hold you to that, Caleb.”
“I just wish I was holding you…” The low whisper seemed to have an effect, since Elinor shivered.
“As do I,” she whispered back.
A rattle at the door reminded them where they were.
Benson entered. “Lady Molliney thought you might care for refreshments, Lady Elinor, Sir Caleb.”
“How kind. Please offer her my sincere thanks.” Caleb rose and accepted the tray, placing it a fair distance away from the book on the table.
“Thank you, Benson,” Elinor smiled at him.
“My pleasure, my Lady.” He left the room.
“He will report to Mama that we are having a civilised conversation from either side of the table,” Elinor grinned at Caleb.
“Not a surprise, given the temptation of your beauty, Elinor.”
“Oh, hush.” She blushed and waved the compliment aside. “Let’s get back to your Welsh mythological creatures?”
“Well, the story—at least what I managed to decipher—goes like this.” He turned the book to her and opened it, revealing some of the magnificent illustrations.
“This fellow here,” Caleb tapped a picture of a man in old-fashioned clothing, “is, I think, one of my ancestors.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but unfortunately he was not a good person.”
“Oh dear.”
“As is the case with many a story, it begins with greed, and leads to the desire to take what is not one’s own.”
