Page 10 of Return to Clan Sinclair
“Have you been a widow long?” he now asked the woman seated opposite him.
Ceana blinked at him as if surprised. “Why would you want to know, Mr. Preston?”
He found himself smiling.
“I do apologize if I’ve offended you, Mrs. Mead. It was not my intent. Was your husband Irish?” There, he dared another personal question.
Her eyes narrowed.
Macrath was smiling faintly, while his wife was looking from Ceana to him as if fascinated by their byplay.
“Yes,” Ceana said.
He suspected that was the only response he was going to get.
“How did you meet?” he asked.
Her lips thinned. Was she going to lose her temper? What would Ceana Mead be like angry?
She absolutely fascinated him, and he didn’t have time to be fascinated by anyone, let alone an Irish widow. Correction, a Scottish widow with an Irish sounding voice.
“Macrath took Ceana to London for a season,” Virginia said.
He glanced at his hostess. She had a beautiful smile, and he’d seen it often in the two weeks he’d been here.
“Ceana and I became friends,” Virginia continued. “I always looked for her at the events I attended.”
“And I couldn’t help but notice the beautiful American,” Macrath added.
“You’re an American?” he asked Virginia, genuinely surprised.
“From upstate New York,” she said, naming a town with which he was quite familiar. “My father was Harold Anderson.”
Harold Anderson had been a tycoon in every sense of the word. At one time, the man had his hand in everything.
Bruce sat back, surprised. “Yet here you are, in the middle of Scotland.”
“Yes,” she said smiling again. “Aren’t I blessed?”
He had the feeling Macrath was the one who was truly blessed.
“Is that where you met your husband, Mrs. Mead?” he asked, turning to Ceana. “In London?”
She stared at him. He was pretty good at reading people and he could swear there was a glimmer of annoyance in Ceana’s eyes.
“Yes,” she said. “Are you married, Mr. Preston?”
Instead of answering her, he asked, “Do you like to swim, Mrs. Mead?”
To his amusement, her cheeks turned pink. Was she recalling the sight of him naked?
“Only when there is no one around, Mr. Preston,” she said. “If someone might spy on me, for example, I am modest to a fault. More than I can say for a great many people.”
Macrath laughed. “Are you calling me immodest, Ceana?” He glanced at his wife. “No more cuddling on the beach for us, my love.”
Ceana lifted her eyes to the ceiling, prompting Bruce’s further amusement.
He concentrated on his plate for a few minutes. “I must congratulate you on your cook,” he said to Macrath. “The meal is easily the equal of anything I’ve had in New York City.”
