Page 86 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
She’d trade a thousand fortunes for Elliot.
Did her actions equal or surpass Macrath’s? If she hadn’t plotted to become pregnant from him, he wouldn’t have stolen her child. In this instance, she was the greater sinner.
She lay her head back against the seat, feeling the rumble of the carriage wheels through her bones.
Thousands of people had died in the epidemic, that much she knew from the physician. She was lucky not to be one of them.
She was so tired it was a burden to remain upright. Her skin pulled at her, weighing her down. Her bones wanted to bend. She was will and stubbornness, nothing more at this moment.
“Your ladyship, are you sure you want to do this?”
She didn’t open her eyes, merely licked her lips and answered Hannah.
“Yes,” she said, even that short word an effort.
She had to get to Scotland and convince Macrath to give her back her son.
Drumvagen, Scotland
July, 1870
The carriage entered Drumvagen’s drive, just as it had a year and a half ago. This time, however, Macrath stood at the head of the steps, his legs braced apart, his arms folded, and his face expressionless.
He would send her back to London. He wouldn’t even give her a chance to rest and recuperate from the journey. She was a dangerous woman, and he knew it only too well. She was the only person in his life to cause him pain.
The door opened and the maid was the first to descend. She looked around her, at the commanding staircases of Drumvagen, and saw him standing at the top.
She trudged up the stairs, frowning at him. The coachman descended from his seat, opened the door and entered the carriage.
Hannah reached him just as the coachman emerged from the interior of the carriage with Virginia in his arms.
Macrath pushed back a surge of alarm. He told himself he didn’t care what happened to Virginia, Countess of Barrett.
“She’s sick,” Hannah said bluntly. “I told her she was still too ill to travel here, but she was all for coming after her son.” She planted her fists on her hips and glared at him. “Well?”
He had the impression that while he might be a mastiff and she a kitten, the maid was not adverse to challenging him.
“Well what?”
“Summon a physician! Do something!” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then seemed to compose herself. “Or do you want her to die?”
“She’ll not bring smallpox to my home,” he said. “I have a child to care for. There’s too much danger with her here.”
Hannah’s eyes widened. “Then where do you suggest we go?”
“There’s a crofter’s hut not far from here. I used it as a laboratory. I’ll send bedding for you and I’ll have meals delivered. The minute she’s well enough to travel, you’ll leave Drumvagen.”
With that, he turned and left her.
Chapter 22
Macrath made his way to the room he’d designated as his son’s nursery. Located just a few doors down from his own suite, it was close enough that he could check on his son. Last night he’d been awakened by the baby’s cry, only to be reassured by a sleepy Mary that Elliot was only hungry and Agatha was already seeing to him.
Now he entered the room quietly, closing the door behind him. His son had only been here for two days, and the atmosphere of Drumvagen was altered. Or perhaps he was the one who’d been changed. He found his mood immediately lightened when he heard his son’s gurgling laughter.
“No, they aren’t to be eaten, you silly boy.”
Mary was leaning over the cradle. When she heard him, she glanced over her shoulder. “He’s nibbling on his feet, sir. He thinks his toes are grand things, don’t you, silly?”
