Karen Ranney

by The Devil of Clan Sinclair

  If he’d delayed sending the letter by one day, he would’ve been aboard the Princess and out to sea by the time they arrived at Drumvagen.

  Now, however, he sat in the Clan Hall with the two of them, wondering how long this harangue would last.

  The room smelled of heather, a scent he normally didn’t notice. Was it because he was leaving? Brianag was forever bringing in blooms of some sort or another and sticking them in ornamental vases to dry.

  “At least give me a date when you’ll return,” Mairi said.

  After all these years, his sister hadn’t yet realized he was as stubborn as she, although not as militant about it

  “Mairi’s right,” Fenella said.

  His cousin thought anything Mairi did was right, perhaps because Mairi had welcomed Fenella into their home when their cousin was newly orphaned. At the time, one more mouth to feed had been a burden. Or an incentive for him, not that he needed one, to succeed at his invention.

  “It’s a long way away, Macrath. Must you go?”

  He smiled reassuringly at her. “I must.”

  “Are you coming back?” Mairi asked, frowning at him.

  “Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

  “Which isn’t an answer, Macrath.”

  She stood, marched to the sideboard and poured a measure of whiskey. His only response was to watch his sister sip cautiously, then take her glass and return to her chair. He noted she didn’t continue drinking the whiskey but finished her tea instead.

  That whole demonstration was an example of his sister’s character.

  “There are fires aboard ship,” Fenella said. “And scurvy.”

  “Not to mention boredom,” Mairi said.

  “You didn’t say anything about pirates or cholera,” he added.

  The two women frowned at him.

  Anyone looking at them wouldn’t have known they were related. Fenella had wispy blond hair and hazel eyes leaning toward green. Mairi, on the other hand, had dark brown hair and the Sinclair blue eyes just like his younger sister, Ceana. Fenella was, perhaps, prettier, but people tended to remember Mairi with her high cheekbones and stubborn chin.

  Her personality was forceful and her temper wasn’t to be underestimated. He’d seen grown men quail before her. He wasn’t, however, one of them.

  “Can’t you conduct your business here?” Fenella asked. “Must you go all that way?”

  “Fenella’s right,” his sister said. “You don’t have to go halfway around the world.”

  “I do if I want to assure the Australians I can bring their meat to market in England.”

  “I don’t see why you have to go there, Macrath.”

  “You needn’t worry about me so much, Mairi,” he said.

  “Still,” she said, her voice trailing away.

  “It’s important to be in a position to expand the business.”

  “Are we running out of money, Sinclair?” Fenella asked.

  The question was so out of character, he and Mairi turned to look at her.

  Her pale cheeks blazed with color. “I only meant there are certain economies we can practice. I purchased three dresses this quarter and I didn’t need them.”

  “Nonsense,” Mairi said, turning her frown on him again.

  While Mairi ran the Sinclair Printing Company, Fenella acted as her assistant and managed her household. The two of them lived in the Edinburgh house, a residence he’d purchased when the first ice machine made a profit. He only wished his parents had lived in such splendor.

  He’d wanted Mairi and Fenella to move to Drumvagen, but Mairi was insistent on keeping the printing company. Fenella, just as he’d expected, dug in her heels as well, and he had no choice but to accede.

  However, he’d arranged for their protection, since single women were not safe living alone. He’d installed two men in their household. James was their driver, reporting to him. Robert was a second cousin and perfect chaperone since he was old enough to be their grandfather and was as proper as an archbishop. Robert also did the accounting for the printing company.

  “You could sell Drumvagen,” Mairi said, looking around her. “Finishing the house must have cost you a fortune.”

  He put down the glass and held up both hands in surrender, before Mairi could launch another salvo against Drumvagen. She didn’t like his house, didn’t understand his need to create something of his own, and frankly didn’t comprehend why Edinburgh had become too crowded and stifling to him. Yet when she came to Drumvagen, she seemed to enjoy herself immensely.

  He hoped he could convince her to leave before him. Mairi and Brianag being here together without him was not wise. The two women clashed.

  Twice now he’d watched as Brianag had stomped across the doorway, just to make sure he knew she was there. Pots clanged and banged, maids whispered, and buckets of water were dragged across the stone floor.

  “We’re doing fine financially,” he said. “We’ve more money than we could spend in two lifetimes. That doesn’t mean, however, I’ll quit trying to earn more.”

  “Are you still set on establishing a lineage, Macrath? If so, you need to find a woman to marry.”

  His smile was a little more forced.

  “I could say the same to you, Mairi. Emulate Ceana. She’s happily married.”

  If she kept frowning like that, her face would be permanently marred.

  “I’m not Ceana,” she said.

  His two sisters were as different from each other in temperament and personality as Mairi and Fenella were in appearance.

  “I’ve disassembled my new machine,” he said, “and it’s in the hold of my ship, my trunks are packed, and I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  His words didn’t seem to make an impact on his sister’s frown.

  “I want away for a while,” he said, hoping the truth would stop Mairi from asking any more questions.

  Her eyes widened at his comment, or perhaps it was the tone in which he uttered it.

  She leaned forward. “Has something happened, Macrath? Something you need to tell me?”

  His smile was easier; the words were difficult. “Nothing has happened, Mairi. I just need to explore a bit.”

  She settled back in the chair, eyeing him with some disfavor. “Why do I feel you are not telling me the whole truth?”

  Because some truths could not be voiced. Virginia’s face suddenly appeared, seeping out of the vault where he’d put her.

  “Why is it that women are so perfidious, Mairi?” he asked, sipping at his whiskey.

  She folded her arms. “I might ask the same of you, Macrath, only about men.”

  “He wasn’t worth you,” he said, speaking of the suitor she’d had a few years earlier. The man had rejected her, and although she’d never said the words, he knew she’d been hurt. “You shouldn’t judge all men by one.”

  “Again, I might say the same to you.”

  “Why do you think a woman is on my mind?”

  “Because you’re acting the same way you did last year. You’re my brother, Macrath. A younger brother, granted,” she added, frowning at him as if daring him to mention her age. “A foolish brother, perhaps.”

  She held up her hand when he would’ve spoken. “You can be brilliant with your machines,” she said. “But you are lacking knowledge when it comes to women.”

  He stifled his smile. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s obvious you’re pining for one now. It’s why you’re off to Australia. It’s just about as far as you can get from Scotland.”

  “She has nothing to do with this.”

  “There,” she said, satisfied. “I knew it was a woman.”

  How did she do it? She was like an irritating sound repeated over and over and over, until you would do almost anything to get it to stop.

  But she was right about one thing—the farther he went, the faster he went, the better.

  London

  September, 1869

  Virginia lay o
n her bed with a pillow over her face, wishing Eudora would go away.

  “Are you certain I can’t pour you some tea?” Eudora asked.

  She closed her eyes, prayed her stomach would settle, and took several deep breaths.

  “I’m sure,” she said. Ever since she’d returned from Scotland, Eudora and Ellice hadn’t left her alone for a moment, probably fearing grief would swamp her if she had any time to herself.

  Between her sisters-in-law and Enid, she didn’t have a moment alone all day.

  Perhaps it was just as well, since their constant companionship kept her from remembering. Macrath remained in Scotland and not in her thoughts.

  “Could you please put the tray outside?” she asked, nearly done in by the revolting smell of kippered herrings. How could anyone eat such a thing first thing in the morning? Just seeing the jug was enough to bring back her nausea.

  “Are you sure? You need to eat something.”

  Not kippered herrings. Not rashers. Maybe toast, later, but nothing now.

  She pulled the pillow off her face to find Eudora still standing over her, now fanning the air with the magazine she’d been reading.

  This morning she wasn’t in the mood for company. She was exceedingly tired and wanted to go back to sleep. She could barely stay awake.

  She’d felt this way once before, when they were traveling to England. She’d been exhausted then, too.

  “You’re sad, that’s what it is,” her maid at the time had said. “It’s to be expected, leaving your home and all.”

  Poor girl, she’d been dismissed a few days before her marriage to Lawrence, replaced by Hannah, who, her mother-in-law had said, was the perfect English maid.

  Perhaps she was sad after all.

  She closed her eyes as the door opened again. Please don’t let Ellice be bringing something else to eat. Her stomach could not tolerate any more food odors.

  “Are you sure, Virginia? There’s enough tea in the pot. I can add a bit of lemon to it. Or cream if you prefer. Perhaps it would settle you.”

  Her stomach was rebelling once again. She waved her hand in the air, hoping Eudora would take the gesture as a request not to mention food or drink.

  “I’m not feeling well, Eudora,” she said. “Would you mind leaving me alone?”

  Please, go away.

  “Yes, dear, go and find Ellice. We’ll go off to the market in a few minutes. For now, I want to visit with Virginia.”

  She slitted open an eye, to find her mother-in-law now occupying Eudora’s chair. She didn’t have the strength to face Enid without a fortifying cup of tea, thoughts of which caused her stomach to reel again.

  The moment the door closed behind Eudora, Enid started to smile.

  “Oh dear Virginia,” she said. “I thought you’d failed in your task. I thought I had sent a girl to do a woman’s duty. But you’ve succeeded beyond my wildest expectations.”

  Virginia held the corner of the pillow aloft, staring at her mother-in-law.

  Enid positively exuded joy.

  She let the pillow drop, wishing Enid would depart in the haste with which she’d arrived.

  “Oh my dear, don’t you see? The chambermaid told me you were ill. That you were retching again this morning. Isn’t it the most marvelous thing?”

  Once more she slid the pillow away, frowning up at Enid.

  “You are with child!”

  Virginia closed her eyes. “It’s something I ate,” she said.

  “One morning, perhaps,” Enid said cheerfully. “But you’ve been sick for the last four days. Of course you’re with child. And I’ve seen you falling asleep over your needlework at night.”

  Her stomach clenched and for the first time in days it wasn’t nausea. She opened her eyes to find Enid had moved the straight-back chair closer to the side of the bed and was now sitting there patting her fingertips together.

  “I know the symptoms, my dear. I’ve delivered three children.”

  She didn’t know what to say. Evidently, however, her mother-in-law didn’t mind that she was a mute participant in this conversation.

  “Tell me, my dear, did he enter you from behind? Did you copulate standing up?”

  She stared at Enid.

  “All these positions are guarantees of a male, my dear. There’s something to be said for the man lowering himself to you. But there’s a greater chance for an heir if he entered you from behind.”

  Had her mother-in-law lost her mind? She had no intention of discussing Macrath’s manhood or any position they might’ve assumed.

  But, dear God, what if Enid were right? What if this passing sickness wasn’t sickness after all?

  She counted back. Six weeks had passed since she’d traveled to Scotland. Could such a thing be true? She clenched her hands into the pillow, keeping her eyes shut so as not to see Enid’s triumphant smile.

  “Oh my dear, we’re saved.”

  She slitted open one eye, determined to bring her mother-in-law back to some form of sanity. It wasn’t to be. Enid was still smiling as she leaned forward, grabbed her hand and patted it enthusiastically.

  “It could be a girl,” Virginia said.

  Was it true? Was she going to be a mother? She pressed her hand against her midriff. A child, growing inside her. A child. She’d been unable to forget one minute of that enchanted day at Drumvagen. Could it be true? Could their lovemaking had given her the greatest gift of all?

  Macrath’s child. A son or his daughter, she didn’t care.

  “Even so, we’ve been given a respite,” Enid said. “The attorneys will not be able to advance their case until you’re delivered, my dear. You must take great care. I will not allow you to tax yourself in any way. I shall hire another maid to care for you along with Hannah.”

  “We can’t afford another maid, Enid.”

  “Nonsense. I will petition the solicitor this morning. He will surely advance us the rents to maintain the household until you deliver. After all, you might well carry the heir to the earldom.”

  She stared at Enid, unable to think of a thing to say to counter her excitement.

  Drumvagen, Scotland

  September, 1869

  “The last of the equipment’s loaded, sir,” Jack said. “I’ve my trunk and Sam has his, but that’s all.”

  “My sister isn’t planted in front of the carriage?” Macrath asked, fastening the last strap on his valise. He glanced over at his assistant with a smile. “No last minute protestations?”

  Jack grinned at him. “No, sir.”

  He’d plucked Jack from the Edinburgh streets where the boy had been working for Sinclair Printing. Jack had been a hawker, collecting pennies for the broadsides the company printed three times a week. Macrath knew the job well, since he’d done it since he was eight.

  Short, with brown eyes and hair, Jack might be nondescript in appearance but he made up for it in other ways. His sense of humor kept Macrath chuckling, and Jack’s wish to make a success of his life was second only to his own ambitions.

  After four years of working for him, Jack was nearly as adept as he was at repairing an ice machine. If Jack ever decided to leave his employ, the man would easily be hired by one of the mills in England. He could repair almost anything, and as he did, he crooned to it, like a man would to a woman he was seducing.

  “There you go, you sweet thing. Go right in there for me. Good for you, you beauty.”

  Sam, his other assistant, was quieter.

  A Kinloch man, with a Kinloch accent, he was tall and thin, despite always eating. His black hair was long, falling over hazel eyes that watched and took in everything. His face was narrow, marked with a burgundy scar running the length of his jaw. When Macrath had asked about it, Sam said something Brianag had to translate, meaning he’d had the scar since birth.

  Either he was getting more adept at deciphering the Kinloch accent, or Sam was getting better at speaking like an Edinburgh man, because they rarely had difficulties understanding
each other lately.

  Sam remembered details Macrath had forgotten, including measurements he could recall off the top of his head. Not content with fishing for a living like the men of Kinloch, he was never happier than when learning something new.

  This voyage to Australia was the highlight of his life. Macrath would bet the man was already seated in the carriage, impatiently waiting for the trip to Kinloch Harbor to board the Princess.

  Jack grabbed his valise and left. Macrath followed with one last look around his bedroom. The scent of roses came to him along with the ghostly echoes of throaty laughter. A woman’s face smiling up at him was obscured by a mist, not formed of time, but determination.

  He wasn’t going to think of Virginia.

  Brianag stood at the base of the stairs waiting for him.

  “I’ll leave Drumvagen to your care, then,” he said, smiling.

  Brianag looked him in the eye. “It’s a big responsibility you’ve given me,” she said.

  “One you can handle better than anyone. There were days when I didn’t pay any attention to Drumvagen. Yet, because of you, everything went smoothly.”

  “So, you’ll be wanting me to be called the Devil of Drumvagen now. Or maybe the crone?” She surprised him with a grin, one he couldn’t help but answer in kind.

  “Mairi won’t be staying long,” he said. “But if you need anything, be sure and tell her.”

  “And what would I be needing? You’ve left enough money for me to set up my own castle, furnish it with kilted lads in bagpipes, and enough whiskey to keep me satisfied until the Second Coming.”

  He stared at her, uncertain if she was kidding. The image of Brianag consorting with kilted lads was not one he wanted to have in his mind.

  She strode to him, poked him in the chest with one finger. “I’ve had a dream, Macrath Sinclair, of a ship.”

  He waited, certain she wasn’t finished.

  “A ship sitting on dry land.”

  “I suppose that means something,” he said.

  She frowned at him. “It means I’ll be seeing a coffin soon.”