Page 113 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
“I could love you tonight,” he said. “Burn away the memory of anyone but me.”
She remained silent.
“But I won’t keep you here by passion, Virginia.”
She bowed her head. He extended his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“I could kiss you until you forget everything but my kisses. I could love you until you only remember my name, my touch.”
“Macrath,” she said, but he pulled back, pressed a finger against her lips.
Perhaps they talked too much. He leaned down and placed his lips on hers, gently at first. Angling his head, he deepened the kiss, her mouth opening beneath his.
She made a sound in the back of her throat. One of awareness or surrender, he wasn’t sure which. He pulled her deeper into his arms, until a thought couldn’t come between them.
Her hand reached up, fingers touching his throat. Long moments later he pulled back to find her watching him.
He smiled as he dropped his arms. “But you were right,” he said. “In the morning, we’d have the same problems between us.”
He strode to the door, turned and watched her. Did she realize leaving her was one of the hardest things he’d ever done?
Her eyes were wide, her face pale. She gripped the fabric of her skirts with both hands.
“Good night, Virginia,” he said, forcing a smile to his face.
Sleep would be a long time coming.
Chapter 28
Virginia half expected Macrath to return to her room. When he didn’t, she wasn’t disappointed. That’s what she told herself in the soft, filtered light of a gray Scottish morning.
Hannah, despite her anger at Macrath, was overjoyed to be back in the house, with water running hot from the boiler and a bathing chamber available. Her maid was positively giddy this morning, commenting on how lovely the day was—it wasn’t. Hannah also commented on the welcome she’d received from Brianag—which Virginia doubted. The one blessing in moving to Drumvagen was that she was able to visit the nursery without a long walk.
She’d tucked Elliot in herself last night.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Virginia said, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was perfect, if a little too styled for this raw day. She didn’t care about the loops of braids or the intricate bun. “But you mustn’t think we’re staying much longer.”
Hannah’s eyes met hers in the mirror.
“We’ve been gone for weeks already,” Virginia said. “My aim was not to remain in Scotland. Merely to get Elliot and return to London.”
Hannah bent and retrieved a hairpin, studying it like she’d never seen one before today.
“Do you think he will, your ladyship? Let Elliot go, I mean?”
“Not now,” she said. “But there must be something I can do. Or say.”
Once her hair was done, she stood, walking to the window. The brisk wind on the moor called to her. So did the sight of Macrath standing there, solitary and still, like he waited for her.
“I wish we’d packed my cloak,” she said.
“You can’t be thinking of going out in this,” Hannah said. “It’s blowing near a gale out there, your ladyship. Another storm is coming.”
“I’ve a chance to beard the lion in his den,” she said.
Without another word she left the room.
At the first rise she stopped, waiting for Macrath to turn and see her. When he did, she still didn’t move. Instead, she stood waiting for a sign, an encouragement. When he started walking toward her, she picked up her skirts and approached him.
