Page 45 of Return to Clan Sinclair
She nodded, decided the movement was making her dizzier, then looked at Bruce.
“Have you any money with you? Give this man everything you have, please. I’ll reimburse you once were back at Drumvagen.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He led her back to the settee while the giant stood guard over Henderson.
The door opened wider and Irishmen flooded into the room. She stared at her brothers-in-law in shock. Why should she be so surprised? Ever since she’d been abducted life had not been normal.
Behind Dennis was Ardan and Breandan, following him as they normally were. The insufferable followed by the inconsiderate and the inarticulate.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“We came to bring you home.”
“I don’t need you to come after me as if I’m a child, Dennis.”
“You left Iverclaire without asking us, didn’t you?”
“I don’t require your permission to live my life, Dennis.”
“We’ll talk about this when we get home,” he said, shooting a glance at Bruce.
“I can imagine Macrath will have something to say about that,” Bruce said.
He wrapped one arm around her and she gladly welcomed it, wishing she didn’t feel like she was going to faint at any moment.
“I want to go home,” she said to Bruce. “Not Iverclaire,” she added, frowning at Dennis. “To Drumvagen.”
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Bruce told himself he wasn’t a coward. Courage had nothing to do with not wanting to witness the tearful reunion between Ceana and her flame-haired daughters.
He couldn’t quite escape it entirely because the squeals of little girls could be heard echoing through Drumvagen.
Macrath would need a full report, and he’d deliver it as soon as the happy reunion was over. He’d arranged for the authorities to take possession of Paul Henderson. The man who’d actually performed the abduction, Connor McMahon, wasn’t mentioned when he’d explained the situation. He reasoned that saving Ceana was worth a bit of leniency on his part.
Once on the third floor, he unlocked the door of the room he’d been using as his office. Slowly, methodically, he began to pack away his notes on this case. He’d have them crated and sent to his Boston office, along with the maps and notes he’d made of the area.
He’d remain as long as necessary in order to testify or if the authorities needed any additional information. After that, he would go home.
Go home. Strange, thinking about it—that his big, weathered house didn’t feel as much like home as Drumvagen.
Fate had allowed him this time in Scotland but that was all. He was foolish to want more.
“So here you are, then,” the duke said.
He looked up from his desk to find Dennis Mead standing in the doorway. Not a good time for the man to make an appearance, not as annoyed and out of sorts as he was.
“For an American, you’re not a bad sort,” Dennis said.
He only inclined his head, not bothering to return the compliment.
Dennis entered the room, moving the only other chair to a position in front of the desk.
“We’ll be leaving soon,” he said.
“I’m sure Scotland will be the lesser for it.”
Was he supposed to be polite to the man? The duke had been a barnacle on his backside since appearing at Drumvagen.
