Page 14 of Return to Clan Sinclair
“Indeed I did not.”
“Or tell tales that couldn’t possibly be true?”
She really couldn’t lie to her niece. “Maybe once or twice.”
“I would wager you didn’t stow aboard ship because you wanted to see America,” Bruce said.
“Oh, dear, did he really do that?” Her nephew sounded a great deal more adventurous than any of the family.
She heard Virginia calling her daughter. Before she could alert Fiona to her mother’s summons, the girl had scooted off the settee and was at the door.
“Thank you, Aunt Ceana,” she said, and smiled in parting, a gamine expression equally distributed between Ceana and Bruce.
She smiled after her niece. Her daughters would like Fiona. She truly needed to bring them home. They would love Scotland.
Bruce stared out the window at the waves rolling into shore. What was he thinking? That she wanted to know was a surprise.
“Why are you here, Mr. Preston?”
He turned his head and studied her.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you, Mrs. Mead. I would if I could.”
He was the most annoying man.
“Tell me about your children,” he said.
She eyed him. “To what purpose?”
His smile was wry, as if he mocked his interest or her protectiveness.
“Can’t I simply be interested?” he asked, coming to sit beside her.
She wasn’t certain it was wise for him to be interested or for her to feel pleased. She looked out at the view, feeling like she was on a tiny island surrounded by the ocean. All she could see was Kinloch Bay and beyond to the North Sea.
“I have two daughters,” she said. “Ten and seven. Nessa is the youngest and the mischievous one. Darina’s more solemn. She worries about everything, and that worries me.”
“Were you the same?”
She considered the question.
“I don’t think I was. I was the youngest. First, there was Mairi, then Macrath, then me. Even after our father died and I knew we didn’t have much money, I didn’t worry. I knew Macrath would take care of me. Or Mairi.”
“You were fortunate to have such protectors.”
She nodded.
She hadn’t forgotten his response when she asked if he had children. He said “not anymore,” leaving her filled with curiosity. But it wasn’t a question she could easily ask. Instead, she let silence envelop them.
The sea breeze from the open window cooled the room, brought the scent of the ocean inside.
He didn’t talk or try to fill the silence with platitudes. Instead, he sat beside her as quiet as she, seemingly content.
She put her hand on the settee. Her little finger was only a short distance from his hand. They were so close yet so far away.
“My wife was from Mississippi,” he said. “We met during the graduation ceremony at West Point. Her brother was a good friend of mine.”
She didn’t turn, didn’t look at him, merely inspected the toes of her shoes peeping out from beneath her skirt.
