Page 111 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
She faced him. “You’re foolish. Boyish. Rash.”
“Perhaps all three,” he said. “Being around you strips me of my sanity, my reason, and my age. I want to run with you, hand in hand. I want to laugh with you. I want to kiss you senseless and come in you until I’m satisfied.”
“Stop.”
“No,” he said, reaching out and gripping her shoulders, gently pulling her toward him. “I don’t seem to be able to stop where you’re concerned. I tell myself I should still be enraged at you. I should remember you betrayed me in the worst way a woman can betray a man. You’re likely to do it again. Then I remember the girl I met in London, the one who wanted desperately to talk of broadsides, murder, and politics.”
“I’m no longer interested in any of those,” she said, pulling away from him and putting several feet between them. “I’m not that girl.”
Just like that, Paul was there, his words etched like crystal in the air. Just like that, the excitement of bantering with Macrath was gone.
“I’ll take the suite,” she said. “The one I occupied last year.”
“My wife’s rooms.”
She turned and stared at him.
Before he could say another word, she gripped her skirts with her hands, leaving the Clan Hall like the devil was truly after her.
Macrath watched as his men arrived with Virginia’s belongings. Since most of the items were those he’d furnished for the cottage, they weren’t taken to her suite. Only two valises went to the rooms he’d created for her, and he suspected one of them belonged to Hannah.
Hannah frowned at him as she stomped up the steps.
He waited until she went up the servants’ stairs before going to Virginia’s suite. He didn’t want another confrontation with the protective maid tonight.
He only wanted an answer. What had he done? What had he said? In a second Virginia’s face had changed. Her eyes had dulled and she’d nearly run from him.
He wasn’t going about this courting the right way.
Nothing worthwhile was easy, however, and he anticipated winning Virginia Anderson Traylor. He wouldn’t have to go to her father, only her, and he wasn’t above using every means at his disposal.
Did she want money? He was wealthy.
Did she want a title? More than one earl had been created because of his contributions to the Empire. He’d start making overtures, letting it be known he wouldn’t be adverse to the Queen doing the same.
Did she want to travel? He’d show her the world.
Did she want to talk politics? He’d take her to Parliament.
Did she want freedom? As long as she stayed with him, she could do as she wished. She could smoke cigars, wear trousers, and swear like a sailor.
Anything she wanted he would give her.
He was going to make her enthusiastic about remaining in Scotland. Most of all, he wanted her to be eager about remaining with him.
He knocked on her door. When he heard her voice, he entered the sitting room. He debated about leaving the door open, then decided it was too late to be circumspect now. Everyone in the house, and probably the village, knew Alistair was his son. They probably already assumed he and Virginia were lovers again.
The room smelled of roses, like she’d never left it.
Virginia stood at the window, the fingertips of one hand pressed against the glass. Beyond her, stars winked behind riffling clouds. Another storm was coming. Would there be a matching storm in this room?
“Are you settled in?”
“Yes,” she said. Just that and nothing more.
He would have to pry the words from her mouth.
Annoyed, he advanced on her.
