Page 39 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
“The perfect companion,” he said, tugging on her hand.
Where were they going? She wasn’t dressed for exploration. The silk of her skirts would no doubt be torn by the brambles and branches. Her fine leather shoes were polished and would probably be scratched by the undergrowth. Then, too, she was supposed to be a proper widow. She shouldn’t be gamboling about in the woods with Macrath, playing the hoyden.
A sign of her foolishness, that she didn’t ask. Nor did she care.
Reaching behind her, he closed the door, grabbed her hand, and they were suddenly away, laughing like children as they raced along the corridor and down the stairs. With each successive footfall the years fell away, and they were boy and girl. She could imagine that they were children of nature with no obligations other than to explore the world outside. They might spy a bird’s nest on an upper branch, watch the wind dance along the moor, or smile at the sight of a squirrel chittering angrily at them.
But Macrath didn’t lead her out of Drumvagen for the woods or the ocean. Instead, he turned left, strode down a hall and entered a library.
She only had time for a quick impression of bookcases, fireplace, two chairs, and a large desk before he went to the side of the room and pulled a sconce on the wall. A moment later a crack appeared behind one of the bookcases.
“A secret passage?” she asked, fascinated. “It’s like something out of a book.”
“Not just a passage. Something even better.”
Now was the time to remind him that she wasn’t excessively courageous. But it seemed like she was, especially with him.
“Would you like to see one of my favorite places at Drumvagen?” he asked.
She would do anything with him. Didn’t he know that? Hadn’t last night and this morning proved that?
Her face flushed as she nodded.
He lit a small lantern, held it aloft with one hand, and, turning back to her, held out his other hand. With no hesitation, she allowed him to pull her into the passage and close the door behind them.
“You know your way, I hope.”
“Else we are doomed to spend the rest of eternity wandering through Drumvagen,” he said, humor in his voice.
In the next moment it felt like the two of them were on a great adventure. As they descended shallow stone steps, a briny smell wafted up from below.
“Will you tell me where we’re going?” she asked, fervently hoping they weren’t heading toward the ocean.
“No,” he said. “It would spoil the surprise.”
“Not even a hint?”
“No hints.”
“Are you normally this stubborn?”
“Yes,” he said, although he didn’t sound the least apologetic about such a character flaw. “I like to get my way.”
As they descended into the darkness, she said, “Perhaps you’re Hades and I am Persephone.”
“I’ve no pomegranate seeds,” he said. “Besides, I’ve already had my way with you.”
“Should a gentleman say such a thing?” she asked, uncertain whether to be amused or affronted.
“I’m not a gentleman with you,” he said. “I’m not the owner of Drumvagen. I’m only Macrath. And you are not a countess, an American, or a widow. You are simply Virginia.”
Warmth traveled through her at his words. He was right. If he hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have lied to Hannah, pretending illness and fatigue. She wouldn’t be here now, clutching her skirts with one hand and his hand with the other, descending into blackness, the lantern giving off only a small circle of yellow light.
The air grew cooler as they descended. Sounds faded until their breathing was loud in the silence. A brine-tasting breeze sought them out, urging them forward. Sand crunched beneath their feet.
The staircase expanded, the passage becoming larger and lighter. He stopped, extinguished the lantern and placed it on the ground. Taking her hand again, he led her down into a sunlit room of stone, the shape reminding her of a mushroom. At the top was an opening allowing sunlight to stream inside the space. Even more amazing was the window on one wall. A wide arch had been cut out of the rock, so perfectly created that it possessed a sill. Here someone could sit and draw up his legs, staring off into the distance where the ocean met the horizon.
“It’s a grotto,” she said, amazed. Her voice echoed back at her.
