Page 100 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
“I received two letters from my sister while I was in Australia,” he said. “Pity yours was lost.”
She glanced at him. “It wasn’t lost. I never wrote you.”
“I know.”
“I couldn’t put something like that on paper,” she said. “I couldn’t take a chance someone else might read it.”
“If they had, would the situation be any worse than it is now?” he asked.
She surprised him by smiling. “No, it wouldn’t.”
“You need to leave Drumvagen.”
“I’m not going,” she said, turning and facing him, their son now calm in her arms. “Not without my son.”
The sight of her tears hit him with the force of a blow.
“Alistair is not going anywhere. His home is here.”
“His name is Elliot,” she said.
“I can starve you out. Refuse you food or water.”
“I imagine there are berries to be found, and there’s a river not far away.”
The stone on his heart moved just a little, enough to allow a tendril of humor to enter.
“Who’s stubborn now?”
She frowned at him. He much preferred her smiles.
“If you think living in your cottage these past weeks was a joyful experience, I beg to differ. Your roof leaks and the floor turns to mud. Not to mention you seem to have an abundance of insects on your moor.”
He folded his arms. “I couldn’t take the chance you would bring disease to Drumvagen.”
She surprised him again by nodding. “I understand, Macrath, and I don’t fault you for it. I mention it only to explain that refusing me food and water won’t alter my living conditions appreciably.”
“Enjoy your visit,” he said, turning and walking to the door.
“Can I come again? By way of the front door this time?”
“You won’t be here,” he said, and without waiting to hear her response, left her, closing the door firmly behind him.
Chapter 25
For a week, Macrath had not made good his threat. He continued to send them food, water, and more than a few creature comforts, including workmen to repair the thatch roof.
A good thing, as it turned out, because another storm was approaching. Dark gray clouds skidded across the sky like puffs of smoke from a dragon’s nose.
Hannah had taken their soiled clothing to Drumvagen earlier that morning, and Virginia was grateful the maid would not be alone in the cottage when the looming thunderstorm hit.
A Scottish storm was like no other. Rather than a gentle rain, the droplets were hurled from the clouds. Thunder reverberated over the hills, lightning speared from cloud to ground, and winds whipped up waves that crashed onto the shore.
She left the cottage for Drumvagen, anticipating seeing her son.
Elliot was a delight. He smiled, waved, and entertained her with conversations as unintelligible as Brianag’s comments. He tried to eat everything, including her mourning brooch and her hair, when he wasn’t thrusting his fist into his mouth and drooling around it. His gummy grin sparked her smile.
She’d expected the startling blue of his eyes to fade, but they hadn’t. His black hair got curly, something she hadn’t foreseen. His face, though, was a younger version of his father’s, even down to the frown.
