Page 101 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
Her heart stuttered to look at him.
She’d gone to Drumvagen the day after her entrance from the grotto. Macrath had answered the door. Rather than forbidding her entrance, he’d stepped back, a wordless invitation.
As she passed him, he said, “It wasn’t a path you took down the cliff, Virginia. Don’t come that way again. I don’t want to have to explain to Alistair how his foolish mother fell to her death.”
She stopped and stared at him. “As I would hate to explain to Elliot his idiotic father wouldn’t allow me to enter through the front door.”
The battle was joined.
Now, the rolling clouds were advancing on her, the lightning darting to the ground an impetus to hurry. She picked up her pace. With luck she could reach the house before it started to rain.
On the first day, she only stayed an hour or so. The second, her visit encompassed the whole morning. Over the last week, she’d remained in the nursery the entire day, playing with Elliot and talking to him about various things, even though Mary giggled at her conversations.
“Do you think he understands you, your ladyship?” she’d asked.
“I don’t know, Mary, but it seems natural to speak to him, all the same.”
The only time she grew quiet was when Macrath entered the room, took a chair beside hers, regarding her silently. He unnerved her when he did that. How could anyone remain still as long as he did? At least she had Agatha and Mary to talk to while he was there, as the other women directed their attention only at her, and avoided looking at Macrath. At those times, the topic was always Elliot, how much he’d grown, his recent achievements, or worry that he still didn’t sleep through the night.
When Macrath stood and left, she let out a breath, both grateful and disappointed he was finally gone. With his absence, she could breathe easier. But with his presence, the world seemed more alive somehow.
Their uneasy truce—if it could be called that—was so fragile she didn’t dare approach him about allowing her to return to England with Elliot.
Nor was she going to try to charm him.
Besides, it was dangerous to even look in his direction. His stare was too direct, too mesmerizing. He stripped her of speech with his slow, dawning smile.
Would he come to the nursery today? Would he sit there silently watching everything she did? She told herself it was foolish to anticipate such a thing. Unwise, also, to remember a time when they were friends and lovers rather than whatever they were now. Not enemies, but cautious about each other.
Would he come? Would he sit there smelling of sandalwood and looking so handsome her heart melted? Would he be thinking of other times?
Or would today be the day he banished her from Drumvagen?
Macrath stood at the window of the suite Virginia had occupied on her last visit to Drumvagen. From there, he could see the road to the cottage.
A few months ago he decided on a motto, one that would be passed down to future generations of Sinclairs. “Good fortune despite adversity.” With any luck, his descendants would continue with the good fortune part, while the adversity faded away.
The source of his greatest adversity was approaching Drumvagen slowly.
Virginia was standing out in the open while a storm was approaching, the wind whipping her hair around her face. Whenever she stopped to remove a tendril of it from her cheek, he wanted to open the window and shout for her to run. Did she think herself exempt from a lightning strike?
Daft woman.
Daft man, to be standing here watching her as he had for the last week.
The knock came softly and he called out, turning when Hannah entered the room.
“Thank you for agreeing to talk with me.”
“It’s not like I had much choice,” she said, frowning.
He bit back his smile. His wife’s maid had never been cowed. Her loyalty to Virginia was admirable but still managed to be annoying.
“Was she very ill?” When Hannah’s eyes narrowed, he added, “I want to know what it was like for her.”
She relaxed her pursed lips long enough to say, “Begging your pardon, sir, but shouldn’t you be asking her ladyship?”
“Yes,” he said. “Under normal situations. This isn’t a normal situation.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.
