“Of course. Send him to the kitchen for refreshment, Mrs. Blair.”
“Sir.” As she left, he saw the twinkle in her eye; she was obviously delighted to see Elinor.
He gestured toward a chair. “What can I do for you? Please sit.”
“I have been in the coach for over an hour, so I am happy to stand. Perhaps it is more a question of what I can do for you.”
“For me?” He moved forward and stopped. She always had a way of luring him, though likely she did not know it. “Did you come here to—talk about—”
“Not that.” She waved slim fingers gloved in dove gray. “I do not mean to trouble you. Cousin Hugh told us of your request. I hoped to be of some use.”
“Ah.” He wished she would sit and relieve the awkwardness in the air.
“Unfortunately, Edgar has duties in the Court of Sessions this week, but thought he might get away this evening.”
“So you brought the message?”
“I bring assistance.” She patted a basket, its handle over her arm, linen cloth tucked around its contents.
“A picnic?” He was confused.
“Items that might help with the work to be done.”
“Perhaps you could explain.”
“At Samhain, ghosts can be more active.” She walked past him, skirts shushing, and set the basket on a table.Blackwood’s Magazinelay there.
“Did you bring jack o’ lanterns and a terrifying disguise?” He smiled. “Just in time for the festivities in the glen tonight.”
She gave him a sour glance. “I have a plan that could help with Braemore’s ghosts. Hugh said you read the story inBlackwood’s?”
“I did, and thought Edgar might share some insights.”
“Edgar is not the author. I am.”
“Ah. That did occur to me, considering your interests.”
“Even Hugh did not realize until today. I brought some things that are known to discourage ghosts. I sometimes saw them here, so I know—I might know what to do.”
“Ah. I saw some odd things too, but considered that it might have been due to the injury.”
“Are you recovered now? Excellent.” She watched him with those earnest blue eyes. “May I take the basket to the kitchen?”
“Certainly.” He motioned her ahead of him. So, she intended to address the matter of ghosts without addressing the trouble between them. A relief. He had often thought about their parting and wished to apologize, but felt unprepared now.
Carrying the basket, she left the room to walk down the hall and descend a few steps to a whitewashed corridor. She knew the way. He followed.
“Allow me.” He took the basket from her, which felt heavy. “Rocks?”
“Turnips.”
“I quite like mashed neeps.”
She laughed. “I know.” He smiled, hearing that musical laugh.
He felt a bit docile carrying her basket, a smitten lad again happy to do Elinor Cameron’s bidding. Watching her neat, slim figure in blue-gray and tartan, bonnet feathers shivering, dark curls bouncing, he remembered the feel of her in his arms, the soft glory of her hair when loosened. What stirred in him then was not the least docile.
“This way,” he said unnecessarily as she entered the kitchen.
