Page 32 of Return to Clan Sinclair
For a moment it felt like the world was held at bay. No past existed for either of them. No future beckoned, filled with responsibilities and obligations. There was only the wind, the sound of the waves wetting the sand, and the cry of seabirds.
Her heart felt squeezed as tears threatened.
She closed her eyes and stepped into his embrace, feeling his arms tighten around her.
Please let her remember this moment for the rest of her life. Never let her forget him and the great gift he’d given her. She was alive. She could feel. She could choose whatever direction her life took her.
Ceana was magic.
She was sorcery and witchery and something Bruce had never before felt. She stripped his mind of every cogent thought. She made him feel, and he’d gone for so long without feeling anything he was raw in her presence.
Kissing her was as necessary as breathing. Holding her in his arms made him somehow feel complete.
Sometimes she would look at him and he was struck breathless by her beauty. Her annoyance made him question himself. Her anger made him instantly defensive. Her passion pushed him to the edge of his restraint.
Every one of her emotions was met by one of his. With her, he couldn’t maintain the equilibrium he always had. She wasn’t like other women and he wasn’t the man he’d always known himself to be when he was around her.
Why had it been so important for him to come to Scotland himself? He’d never even given it a second thought. Once he discovered Paul Henderson had left America, he’d packed his own bags. Not because Macrath Sinclair was one of his best clients. Not because the man maintained an empire and a sufficiently large retainer with his firm. Not even because he wanted to see the homeland of his ancestors. Why had he come to Drumvagen at the exact time Ceana came home?
He might have to believe in Fate.
He wanted to tell her things he’d never mentioned to anyone else. He wanted to lay himself bare and have her judge him, when he’d never cared about other people’s opinions before. In the short span of two weeks he had come to look for her, to anticipate seeing her, to thinking of her too much.
When she mentioned returning to Ireland, his mood was affected and his thoughts blackened. He had the feeling once she went back, he would never be the same.
He didn’t want to see her wearing black. Nor did he want to be curious about the man she’d married. He envied Peter Mead, and had rarely envied anyone in his life.
Yet she’d come to his room, the greatest gift he’d ever been given. Now she demanded kisses and he willingly obliged, only to be trapped in a net of desire.
How could he allow her to return to Ireland?
For long moments he held her. Then, just when he couldn’t imagine ever releasing her, she stepped back.
Her cheeks were rosy, her mouth trembling. He wanted to kiss her again, but if he did he didn’t think he could stop.
“Do your daughters have your beautiful blue eyes?”
She glanced away.
“No,” she said. “They have Peter’s brown eyes. And his red hair.”
She looked back at him, placed her palms on his cheeks and studied him intently. “Your eyes are a beautiful shade. Not quite brown. Not quite gold. From the first moment I saw you I thought they were like whiskey in sunlight.”
He had rarely been the recipient of compliments, especially from a beautiful woman. He felt his face warm.
She laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist, tempting him to take her right there on the beach.
He bent his head, lay his cheek against her hair, hearing the wind and the waves.
The door to his heart opened, the rusty hinges dissolving as he realized that, despite all the odds, he’d somehow fallen in love.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Carlton was sitting in the corner, reading. Every few minutes he would lick his forefinger and turn the page. Any other day Virginia would have cautioned him that doing such a thing would damage the book, but she was so grateful he was occupied she didn’t say a word.
His tutor had gone off to Kinloch village on his half day off, but even if he was still at Drumvagen, it was doubtful Carlton would have left her side. Whatever Macrath told him had made an indelible impression on her son. He rarely let her out of his sight.
A sharp tap on the door frame drew her attention, and she turned to see Ceana standing there.
