Page 97 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
Disheartened, she leaned against the door, and it abruptly opened, so suddenly she almost fell.
She froze, hoping Macrath was not in the library. If he saw her first, he’d prevent her from seeing Elliot, she was certain of it.
After a moment she dared to move, to take three steps into the room, closing the entrance to the passage.
His scent, something reminiscent of sandalwood, hung in the air. On the desk were several loose pages. Was he working on designs for a new ice making machine?
She crept to the door, opening it slowly. Seeing a passing maid, she closed it swiftly. After a moment she opened the door again, waiting, breath drawn, for the girl to reach the end of the corridor. Once she was certain no one was in sight, she raced toward the staircase and up the steps, her heartbeat keeping pace with her fear.
No one stopped her.
No one shouted for her to be thrown out of Drumvagen.
On the second floor, she hesitated only a minute. Thanks to Hannah, she knew where the nursery was.
“It’s in a room between the suite you were in last year and his set of rooms, your ladyship. Elliot has a right little kingdom for himself there, with Mary and Agatha in the next room.”
At least Macrath had the foresight to steal a wet nurse along with her child.
She opened a door halfway down the hall, only to find it empty. Had Macrath moved her son to hide him?
Fear crouched inside her chest, cold and patient.
She calmed herself. She simply had the wrong room, that was all. The second door she tried was the right one.
Mary sat in an overstuffed chair, staring at a bit of needlework, her lips twisted in concentration. Beside her was a cradle.
“Your ladyship,” the girl said upon seeing her, standing and dropping the needlework to the floor.
“Is he all right?” Virginia asked, moving to the cradle.
Elliot lay on his back, asleep, his face turned away from the faint light from a curtained window. His fist was in his mouth, his eyelids twitching in baby dreams.
The world fell away. Fear had caught at her heart for weeks. As she stood beside the cradle, she was suffused with happiness and at peace for the first time.
Gently, with trembling fingers, she placed her hand on Elliot’s chest, just to feel his heartbeat. Just to know he was alive and well.
Had he suffered for their separation? Did he still remember her?
“Leave him,” Macrath said from behind her.
She didn’t move, her fingers remaining where they were.
Elliot blinked open his eyes and reached for her, the cry he uttered sweeping away any fear. She plucked him from the cradle and held him close, talking to him softly.
“There you are, my precious little darling,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you so.”
Slowly, she turned to face Macrath, recognizing the rage in his eyes.
The moment of reckoning was finally here. They stood silently looking at each other. Would he forgive her? Should she even try to plead her case?
What about the terror she’d felt on discovering Elliot was gone? Did he bear no responsibility for that?
“How could you take him from me? You had no right.”
“I had every right, or do you deny he’s my son?”
Beneath his rolling accent was anger, sharp and pitiless and not at all melodic.
