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“Terrific.”
With her jacket and mud-caked shoes disposed of, Ali fol owed Duncan. She gazed appreciatively at the woodpaneled room he led her into, noting its decorative ceilings with interest. The antique furniture was tasteful and invit
ing; muted greens and golds complemented the heavy crimson draperies and ornate cherrywood bookcases that ran the length of the drawing room.
“This place is amazing, Mr. Macintosh. You must love taking care of it.”
“Och, now, Duncan wil do just fine. And aye, it’s a wonderful job I have,” he said as he dragged a high-back chair closer to the fire and placed a forest green throw over its delicate embroidered fabric. “Sit down, lass. Dry off a bit and I’l get us our tea.”
Ali sank grateful y into the chair, then leaned forward to warm her hands in front of the blazing fire. Its woodsy aroma reminded her of a damp day in fal , even though it was only the beginning of August. Duncan reentered the room carrying a heavily laden silver tray. “Move that wee table over here, lass.”
“That’s quite a spread. I hope you didn’t go to any trou
ble on my account, Duncan,” she said as she placed the table between them. The older man settled in the chair beside her. “No trou
ble at al .” He smiled. Looking over the rim of the porce
lain teacup, he asked, “What brings you to Skye, Ali?”
“I’m doing a photo shoot for
“I know of it. They requested permission a few months back to take photos here. So, you’re a model, then?”
Ali laughed. “Actual y, I’m a doctor, fourth-year resi
dent. But my friend is an agent and every once in a while she passes a job my way. Helps pay the bil s,” she said, biting into a dainty sandwich.
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“I thought you residents were a harried lot. Was it not difficult for you to get the time off ?”
Ali choked and took a deep swal ow of her tea before she answered, “Not real y.” Anxious to change the subject, she pointed to a tattered piece of silk encased in glass above the fireplace. “What’s that?”
“Ah, that would be the fairy flag,” he said, gazing at the box with reverence. Intrigued, Ali asked, “Fairy flag?”
“Would you be wanting to hear the tale?”
“I’d love to. If you’re sure you have the time.”
“I always have time for this story, lass.” He made him
self comfortable; stretching out his long legs, he crossed them at the ankles.
“A long time ago, according to the legend, the Laird of the MacLeods fel in love with a fairy princess.”
“Fairy princess? You mean like in storybooks?”
“Aye. Do you not believe in magic, Ali?”
She didn’t. As far as she was concerned only children who had been loved and protected had the luxury to be lieve in magic and fairy tales. Not someone like her, who had been slapped with the harsh realities of life at an early age. But Duncan didn’t need to know that.
“Of course.” She smiled. “Now don’t keep me in sus
pense, what happened next?”
He studied her with kind eyes, then went on with his story. “The two wished to wed, but the King of the Fairies refused to grant his permission. Noting his daughter’s sorrow, he reluctantly relented, but on with one condition; after a year and a day she must return to the fairy realm.
“Within that year the happy couple were blessed with a bonny baby boy. Their time together went quickly, and too soon the heartbroken princess had no choice but to keep her promise to her father. As she tearful y left her husband and baby at the fairy bridge, she made the laird promise
LORD OF THE ISLES
7
never to leave their son alone, or to al ow him to cry. Even in the fairy realm, the sound of his sorrow would cause her great suffering,” Duncan explained.
Flames shot up from the fire with a loud crackle and pop, and Duncan leaned over, taking a poker to the logs before continuing. “Their laird was grief stricken, and his clan, want
ing to cheer him up, organized a celebration. The maid who had been left to mind the wee one could not resist the music and left the bairn alone while she went to watch the festivities. The baby started to cry, and hearing his cries, the fairy princess came back to comfort him. She wrapped him in her silk and was speaking to him in a lyrical voice when the maid returned. The princess kissed her son good-bye, then vanished.
“Years later, the lad came to his father with the story of his mother’s visit, and repeated her instructions to him. If ever the clan was in danger, the laird was to wave the silk to cal upon the fairies and their help. But the
