Page 120 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
“Were you, now?” he asked, smiling at her. “You found the gazebo.”
“Did you build it?” she asked.
“No, it was one of the few structures finished before the owner abandoned Drumvagen.”
“Was it always called Drumvagen or did you rename it like you did your ship?” she asked, sitting again.
“The name is several centuries old, I understand.” He took the steps, looking around him.
“Are you taking a break from your work?”
He sat beside her.
“I was,” he said. “We had a small issue with the flywheel. I thought it was going to come off and roll right into the ocean.”
She reached out and touched his arm, stroking the fabric of his shirt, feeling the muscles beneath.
“You will be careful, won’t you?”
He studied her, his look so strange she wondered if she’d done something wrong.
“I can’t remember the last time someone worried about me.”
“Surely that’s not true. What about your sisters? I know Ceana was very concerned about your voyage to Australia.”
He smiled. “It’s a different kind of concern,” he said. “With Mairi, it’s her unquenchable need to run my life. In Ceana’s case, she’s always been a mother hen.” He smiled. “She’ll make a wonderful mother.”
The most recent letter from Ceana had come with the news she’d given birth to a healthy baby girl. Elliot had a cousin, one he could never recognize.
“Perhaps my worry is warranted,” she said, forcing her thoughts away from their dilemma. “The first time I came to Drumvagen, there were puffs of smoke coming from the cottage.”
“It wasn’t intentional,” he said with a smile. “Why are you here? Are you communing with the badgers and the foxes?”
“Actually, I haven’t seen any animals. I should like to see a fox, I think. We used to have foxes near Cliff House. I don’t believe I’ve ever been close to a badger, though.”
“That’s a good thing,” he said, stretching out his legs. “They’re not at all sociable, especially when they feel cornered.”
“Like Brianag.”
His laughter caused some nearby birds to suddenly abandon their perch and fly skyward.
“Do I have problems in my household?”
“No, you don’t,” she said. “I’m a guest. I wouldn’t dare to offer a suggestion or a criticism.”
He looked away to where the forest deepened in color until it was nearly a solid wall of emerald green.
“You know that you, above all other people, have the power to say anything. Or do anything,” he added.
She didn’t want the power. She didn’t, above all, deserve it.
“Have I ever told you how much I love your voice?” She looked at him, holding his intent gaze. “It’s your Scottish accent.”
His smile dawned slowly, became a wondrous thing lighting something inside her.
“Sic as ye gie, sic wull ye get.”
She frowned. “What did you just say?”
