The Witch Of Clan Sinclair
Page 32
Perhaps he had a misshapen nose. She’d consider a scar to be dashing, but crooked, black teeth would be very off putting.
“I’m surprised we haven’t met before now,” Macrath said. “With you being Logan’s friend and the distance not that far from Edinburgh.”
The stranger lived in Edinburgh?
An hour earlier she wouldn’t have given the thought an iota of life. An hour earlier, before her mother announced her new plans, Ellice would have pushed aside the notion and laughed at herself.
She might write of a daring, shocking woman, but it was quite another thing to be that person. But was she simply to wait until circumstances happened to her? Was she never to act on her own?
Ellice looked down at herself. This morning she’d worn a blue dress with bone buttons, white cuffs, and collar. She and her mother had instituted so many economies over the years that it was difficult to relinquish the habit now. The dress was like most of those in her wardrobe, constructed for long wear and serviceability, able to withstand the laundry and fade only a little over time.
Because of the bustle her mother insisted on—after all, just because they lived in Scotland was no reason to be fashion heathens—the dress was a little shorter than it should have been, revealing a glimpse of her ankles. At any other time, she would have been embarrassed to be seen in such old clothing. Right now, however, it was perfect for the plan that was bubbling up in her mind.
The stranger might be persuaded to think her a maid at Drumvagen.
If she waylaid him, would he take her to Edinburgh? She wasn’t above begging. Would she need to tell a story? Would he believe she needed to visit a sick mother in the city? Or that she was pining for an errant lover?
If she must, she’d tell a tale, something that wouldn’t cast Drumvagen or Macrath into disfavor but would appeal to the stranger’s better impulses.
If he had any better impulses.
Perhaps he was a slaver, or a smuggler wishing to purchase Drumvagen for his evil uses. Had he come to scope out the land before leading his flotilla of ships to fire on the great house?
No, Macrath seemed to like him, and Macrath was a good judge of character. Besides, the stranger knew Logan. Any friend of Mairi’s husband had to be a decent man.
Clutching the manuscript to her chest, she crept to the front of the house—the better to avoid Brianag—and slipped out the massive double doors.
The minute Ellice saw the carriage, she changed her plans.
The visitor to Drumvagen didn’t travel in a normal equipage. Instead, his team of four horses pulled a brougham, a massive carriage similar to a mail coach.
She would not have to flag down his driver after all. She wouldn’t have to throw herself on the visitor’s mercy. She would not have to grovel.
Instead, she was simply going to hide in the carriage.
To her relief, the driver was nowhere in sight. She neared the carriage with a nonchalant walk, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching her from Drumvagen.
Virginia was in the Rose Parlor. Brianag was no doubt giving orders to the maids. Sinclair was escorting his visitor around the house, which only left her mother and the children, both of whom she adored. Whenever Alistair saw her, he ran toward her, arms spread wide as he screamed, “Leese!” His sister, Fiona, was only a year old, but she was already beginning to emulate her brother in not only her affection, but her shouts of glee.
But she didn’t see any childish face pressed against a windowpane. Nor was her mother standing there admonishing her with a look.
She couldn’t hide in the rear of the carriage. Two trunks were stored behind the brougham and secured with a leather flap from the top of the vehicle to the fender.
She could only wonder about Macrath’s visitor. Was he a world traveler? Where had the visitor gone before coming here? Was he truly returning to Edinburgh? What if he wasn’t? What if he was going to Kinloch Village and from there to America or an even more exotic location? What if he was traveling on to Inverness instead?
She didn’t want to get trapped in a city with no funds or friends, but if she returned to her room to get some money from her strongbox, there was every possibility the stranger would leave before she got back.
Worse, she might be seen by Brianag or her mother before she could return to the carriage.
No, she was simply going to assume that what she’d heard was correct. The visitor was returning to Edinburgh. Once in the city, she’d find a conveyance to take her to Mairi’s house, where the driver would be paid.
She glanced back at Drumvagen.
The darkness on the horizon, as well as the swelling wind, gave evidence of a fierce storm to come. Drumvagen stood up to the elements well, a house buttressed against all types of weather. The snows of winter melted from the edifice as if in apology for marring the perfect beauty of the twin staircases or four towers. The winds that came off the ocean pressed against the brick and the rows of windows without effect.
Every time Macrath returned to the house, he had the driver stop just before the curved approach and simply stared at his home. Anyone could tell how much he loved Drumvagen and how proud he was of the house he’d finished building.
By leaving, Virginia and Macrath would probably think she’d rejected their kindness. They’d both effortlessly enfolded her into their family. She didn’t want to hurt either of them, but her mother wouldn’t be stopped.
Either she took this opportunity or she ended up being married to someone her mother chose.
In one of Macrath’s carriages, the seat lifted up, revealing a storage area. This carriage was easily the size of Macrath’s. Would it also boast a secret compartment?
Entering the carriage, she ducked down beneath the window. The carriage smelled of leather, which was understandable because of the leather seats. But why should it smell of lemons?
To her wholehearted relief there was a compartment beneath the seat. Only she was very sure she wasn’t going to fit, not with the bustle her mother insisted she wear. Every morning Ellice tied on the garment that looked like a fishtail hanging over her backside.
No one at Drumvagen, except her mother, cared if her dresses hung correctly, plumped from the rear.
In order to fit into the compartment she was going to have to remove the hated thing.
She put the manuscript into the compartment, then hurriedly reached beneath her skirts, finding the ties to the bustle and slipping it off. Folding it into as compact a size as she could, she pushed it, too, into the compartment.
In a normal carriage the journey to Edinburgh would take four hours. It was altogether possible they might reach the city in less time in such a vehicle as this.
Ellice entered the compartment, kneeling before wedging herself in sideways. The space smelled of wet boots and horse.
She was more than willing to be a little uncomfortable in the short run. After all, her freedom was at stake.
Telling herself to be as brave as Lady Pamela, she closed the seat on top of her.
In minutes she’d be on her way to Edinburgh. She’d take her own life in her hands and determine her own future.
Along the way, perhaps she’d get to see the stranger’s face.
About the Author
KAREN RANNEY is the New York Times bestselling author of dozens of historical romances, most of them set in Scotland. Her first published work was “The Maple Leaf,” read over the school intercom when she was in the first grade. In addition to wanting to be a violinist, she also wanted to be a lawyer, a teacher, and most of all a writer. Though the violin was discarded early, she still admits to a fascination with the law, and she volunteers as a teacher when needed. Writing, however, remains the overwhelming love of her life.
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Romances by Karen Ranney
THE WITCH OF CLAN SINCLAIR
THE DEVIL OF CLAN SINCLAIR
&nb
sp; THE LASS WORE BLACK
A SCANDALOUS SCOT
A SCOTTISH LOVE
A BORROWED SCOT
A HIGHLAND DUCHESS
SOLD TO A LAIRD
A SCOTSMAN IN LOVE
THE DEVIL WEARS TARTAN
THE SCOTTISH COMPANION
AUTUMN IN SCOTLAND
AN UNLIKELY GOVERNESS
TILL NEXT WE MEET
SO IN LOVE
TO LOVE A SCOTTISH LORD
THE IRRESISTIBLE MACRAE
WHEN THE LAIRD RETURNS
ONE MAN’S LOVE
AFTER THE KISS
MY TRUE LOVE
MY BELOVED
UPON A WICKED TIME
MY WICKED FANTASY
Coming Soon
THE VIRGIN OF CLAN SINCLAIR
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from The Virgin of Clan Sinclair copyright © 2014 by Karen Ranney LLC
THE WITCH OF CLAN SINCLAIR. Copyright © 2014 by Karen Ranney LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Epub Edition MAY 2014 ISBN: 9780062242471
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-224246-4
FIRST EDITION
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