Page 28 of Return to Clan Sinclair
“The children,” she said. Up until this exact moment, she had been relatively calm, but now fear filled her stomach, icing it over. She felt vaguely nauseous and cold.
“He wouldn’t do anything to the children, would he?”
“Not if he wants to live another day.”
“How can a man be so obsessive? Ten years have passed, Macrath.”
He smiled. “The right woman will make any man obsessed,” he said.
His look warmed the ice just a little.
“We can’t let Alistair go back to school yet. Is that why you’ve delayed his return?”
He nodded.
“We have to find Henderson, Macrath,” she said.
Images flooded into her mind. That terrible time when Paul had drugged her and taken her aboard ship, so close to raping her she’d had nightmares for weeks afterward.
“I want a big knife,” she said. “The largest one we have in the kitchen.”
At his look, she frowned. “I will not allow my children to be harmed, Macrath. Not by Paul Henderson or anyone. If necessary, I will protect them myself.”
He came and stood in front of her, grabbing her knitting and tossing it to the floor. Before she could protest his treatment of her latest project, he hauled her up into his arms and hugged her tightly.
“I love you, Virginia,” he said. “From the very first moment I saw you, I think I loved you then.”
She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel comforted and safe, if only for a moment, in Macrath’s arms.
Paul Henderson stared out the window of the train, feeling anticipation tingle through him. Ten years had passed since he’d stepped foot on Scottish soil. Ten years, but he returned to this godforsaken country a successful man. A wealthy man who’d come about his riches legally.
People said he was a risk taker, and he was. He had nothing to lose. It was easy to take a bet and double it, be it railroads or silver. His wealth had diversified since he’d taken advantage of America’s more egalitarian society. Now he was welcomed wherever he went simply because he was wealthy, not because his father had a title.
In that, he and Macrath Sinclair were alike.
Sinclair’s father had been a newspaperman, living close to the edge of penury all his days. While his father had been a chimney sweep, asking no more from life than to send lads up into tiny smoke-filled vertical coffins.
He’d wanted more from the beginning. Now he had it: a private car, a secretary who doubled as a bodyguard, a valet to ensure he was well dressed, a cook who traveled with him. His cabin aboard ship had been a large one and he’d eaten at the captain’s table.
No one knew he’d once been a servant in London. Most of his acquaintances thought there was some mystery about him because he’d let drop certain facts they could gather up together in a loosely constructed story of their own making. He might have been the son of an earl or a duke’s progeny. Perhaps he was the illegitimate product of a royal’s indiscretion.
All his early self-taught lessons on deportment had served him well. He had the manners and the bearing to be anyone he wished.
Even someone Virginia would admire.
He couldn’t forget her.
The one woman he’d wanted, the only one to reject him. All these years, she’d stayed in his mind like a loadstone, an impetus, a motivation to be more than he ever dreamed of being. He would explain it all to her. Virginia, who knew his beginnings, who knew who he really was, would understand better than anyone how far he’d come.
He wanted her. He longed for her. Even when he bedded another woman, hers was the face he saw.
Over the years, his hair had silvered, giving him a distinguished appearance. He was still a young man, with a young man’s needs and wants and ardor. He would prove that to her, too.
This time, no one would know he had anything to do with Virginia’s disappearance. To that end, he’d interviewed ten likely candidates in Inverness. Three of them were more interested in their payment then their task. Three were so dumb that even after explaining what he wanted done, they still didn’t understand. Three were too intelligent, so much so he hadn’t even gone into what the task was, for fear they’d report him to the authorities. The last had proven to be a worthy surrogate with a giant’s build.
The man would go to Drumvagen and fetch Virginia for him. He’d given the man a detailed drawing of Drumvagen, including the grotto where he could gain admittance to the house. Before leaving Scotland he’d make sure the man went back to Inverness. There was no reason for him to remain in the vicinity or to tell anyone about the nature of his employment.
The other servants—valet, cook, and secretary—knew nothing of the reason for his trip to Scotland, and he intended to keep them ignorant.
