Page 132 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
“They’ll never know. You see, by the time we get to America, you’ll be carrying my child.”
She blinked open her eyes, staring at the ceiling of the carriage. A movement to her left made her realize they weren’t alone. A young man sat opposite them. She closed her eyes again, realizing the enormity of her situation. She didn’t just have to fight Paul, but a stranger as well.
Dear God what was she going to do?
She wanted away from him, as far away as the confines of the carriage would allow. Slowly, she sat up, pushed herself into the corner and drew up her legs. Thrusting her hands over her skirts, she pressed down on the hoop to collapse it. She didn’t want any part of her touching either man.
“Come, my dear, I know you’re feeling the effects of the chloroform. I would have done something else if I had thought you would be amenable.”
When he reached out for her, she batted his hands away and wedged herself into the corner even farther.
Please, God, let him leave her alone. Let him change his mind. Let him suddenly announce to the driver they were returning to Drumvagen.
“Why me? I’ve never given you any hint of affection. Why would you think I would want to go with you anywhere?”
“I’ve never forgotten our night together,” he said. “I remember how you kissed me. I knew, then, how you felt about me. Regardless of what you say now, Virginia, that was real and true.”
“I thought you were my husband,” she said.
“Except Lawrence couldn’t abide you,” he said. “When he offered you, I leapt at the chance.”
She’d been reared to respect the dead, but at this moment she loathed Lawrence Traylor.
“He was a fool,” she said. “A vengeful fool.”
“Oh, I can’t disagree,” Paul said. He reached into the basket and withdrew a flask, offering it to her. “Just a little medicinal brandy.”
She wasn’t going to drink anything he offered her, for fear it would be drugged. When she turned her head away, he laughed.
“Lawrence allowed his emotions to get the better of him, I’m afraid. But then, so did I.”
She glanced at him. “Even if those emotions aren’t returned? How can you want a woman who wants nothing to do with you? What can I say to convince you?”
“Nothing. You see, Virginia, I’ve paid a price for you. You’re my reward for years of struggle. For bowing and scraping and being endlessly subservient. I knew you were mine the minute the marriage was announced. It took Lawrence a few months to realize that.”
Was he insane? From the glint in his eyes, she could almost think he was. How did one reason with insanity?
If he could viciously strike Hannah, what chance did she have with him?
Paul glanced at the window. “Ah, we’re here,” he said, turning to her. “I am sorry, my dear, but you can’t be allowed to make a scene.”
He reached for her. She beat at him, using her hands and feet, but he dragged her back over the seat. The other man handed him something and the cloth was suddenly over her face again, the chloroform sending her mind spiraling somewhere distant.
Hannah lay sprawled on the beach. For a moment Macrath didn’t know if she lived, but a pulse beat sluggishly beneath his fingers.
“Hannah,” he said, rage racing through him as he knelt on the sand, placing his hand gently beneath her head.
Her lips were bloody and her nose appeared broken.
Her eyes blinked open. “Sir.”
He raised her a little until she was almost sitting, supporting her with one arm. Gently, he brushed the sand from her face. Had she been assaulted? Would she tell him, if so? He didn’t want to leave her, but he needed to summon help.
Thank God Brianag had some skill at healing.
“Who did this to you?”
A bloodcurdling yell like the Highlanders of old split the air. He glanced over his shoulder to see Jack racing toward them, his feet kicking up clouds of sand.
