The room was blessedly uncluttered and spacious. A warm and inviting room she would be proud to call hers.
She froze.
Macrath was sitting near the cold fireplace in a high-back chair watching. The setting reminded her of London, enough that she wondered if he’d staged it that way.
His eyes were intent on her, his hands relaxed on the carved arms of the chair. He wore a white shirt and dark trousers, but there was no doubt he was the master of Drumvagen, its laird and its devil.
A worthy adversary, her father would have said.
She took a deep breath and entered the room, coming to his side and taking the chair next to him before he asked her to sit or even invited her to do so.
“Did you know Drumvagen has fifty-two rooms?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“It has thirty-two fireplaces, ninety-six doors, two hundred fifty-six windows, and a total of twenty-two hundred panes of glass. That’s only the main house, not the outbuildings.”
“Did you memorize all that?”
“I own it. Don’t you think I should know what I own?”
“You don’t own me,” she said, putting her knees together and placing one hand atop the other on her lap, a pose she’d been schooled in by all her governesses.
“I do not.”
His tone was agreeable, but the sharp look in his eyes said something entirely different.
“I’m not leaving the cottage.”
“Ah, but the cottage is not up to your standards.”
“I don’t recall saying that,” she said.
A quirk of his lips irritated her. Had she amused him?
“Very well,” she said, remembering the litany she’d leveled at him about the conditions of the cottage. “The roof is repaired, you’ve had planks placed across the floor. I’m comfortable there.”
“Yes, but you’re my son’s mother. I would say you deserve the best.”
“I don’t want to move.”
“But you have,” he said, smiling lightly. “I expect the wagon to arrive momentarily with your possessions.”
“I told them not to move anything until I returned.”
“I told them to ignore anything you said.”
She frowned at him. “Let me go back to London.”
“Alistair needs his mother.”
“Yes, he does,” she said. “In London.”
“He’s not going anywhere. Nor are you.”
“How do you expect to keep me here?”
He smiled. “Charm? Seduction? Cogent arguments?”
She didn’t doubt all three would work, the first two faster than the third. Even now her heart was beating rapidly and her palms were sweaty. He had that effect on her. He seemed to know it, too, if his smile was any gauge.
“If I allow you to seduce me, will you let me leave?”
“With Alistair? No.”
She’d known the answer to the question even before asking it.
“What if I seduced you?” She fixed a smile on her face, keeping it there by will alone.
His smile slipped a little but the expression in his eyes didn’t cool by one degree.
Perhaps he was the devil, indeed. She was not, however, an angel.
“You did before, as I recall.”
Her fingers curled against her palms. Looking down, she marveled at the perfection of the flagstones. How many maids labored here to make everything tidy and dust free, to keep all the brass polished? She had no doubt Brianag was a martinet.
“Virginia.”
She would not look at him.
“You have a choice, Virginia. To occupy my room, or the suite across the hall.”
Suddenly he was there, standing in front of her chair. He pulled her up to him, and in the next instant was leaning close, his lips against her temple.
“Please do not,” she said, pulling away from him.
“Why? Have you developed a distaste for my kisses?”
She walked toward the fireplace. Perhaps she should grab a poker for protection.
“What good does it do to kiss you? To lose myself in your kisses? I’ll surrender to you and you’ll take me to your bed. In the morning there would be the same problems between us.”
“At least we’ll have the memory of pleasure,” he said, taking a step toward her.
She glanced over her shoulder at him and shook her head.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “You’re a temptation. A drug. You’re whiskey.”
She faced him. “You’re foolish. Boyish. Rash.”
“Perhaps all three,” he said. “Being around you strips me of my sanity, my reason, and my age. I want to run with you, hand in hand. I want to laugh with you. I want to kiss you senseless and come in you until I’m satisfied.”
“Stop.”
“No,” he said, reaching out and gripping her shoulders, gently pulling her toward him. “I don’t seem to be able to stop where you’re concerned. I tell myself I should still be enraged at you. I should remember you betrayed me in the worst way a woman can betray a man. You’re likely to do it again. Then I remember the girl I met in London, the one who wanted desperately to talk of broadsides, murder, and politics.”
“I’m no longer interested in any of those,” she said, pulling away from him and putting several feet between them. “I’m not that girl.”
Just like that, Paul was there, his words etched like crystal in the air. Just like that, the excitement of bantering with Macrath was gone.
“I’ll take the suite,” she said. “The one I occupied last year.”
“My wife’s rooms.”
She turned and stared at him.
Before he could say another word, she gripped her skirts with her hands, leaving the Clan Hall like the devil was truly after her.
Macrath watched as his men arrived with Virginia’s belongings. Since most of the items were those he’d furnished for the cottage, they weren’t taken to her suite. Only two valises went to the rooms he’d created for her, and he suspected one of them belonged to Hannah.
Hannah frowned at him as she stomped up the steps.
He waited until she went up the servants’ stairs before going to Virginia’s suite. He didn’t want another confrontation with the protective maid tonight.
He only wanted an answer. What had he done? What had he said? In a second Virginia’s face had changed. Her eyes had dulled and she’d nearly run from him.
He wasn’t going about this courting the right way.
Nothing worthwhile was easy, however, and he anticipated winning Virginia Anderson Traylor. He wouldn’t have to go to her father, only her, and he wasn’t above using every means at his disposal.
Did she want money? He was wealthy.
Did she want a title? More than one earl had been created because of his contributions to the Empire. He’d start making overtures, letting it be known he wouldn’t be adverse to the Queen doing the same.
Did she want to travel? He’d show her the world.
Did she want to talk politics? He’d take her to Parliament.
Did she want freedom? As long as she stayed with him, she could do as she wished. She could smoke cigars, wear trousers, and swear like a sailor.
Anything she wanted he would give her.
He was going to make her enthusiastic about remaining in Scotland. Most of all, he wanted her to be eager about remaining with him.
He knocked on her door. When he heard her voice, he entered the sitting room. He debated about leaving the door open, then decided it was too late to be circumspect now. Everyone in the house, and probably the village, knew Alistair was his son. They probably already assumed he and Virginia were lovers again.
The room smelled of roses, like she’d never left it.
Virginia stood at the window, the fingertips of one hand pressed against the glass. Beyond her, stars winked behind riffling clouds. Another storm was coming. Would there be a matching storm in this room?
“Are you settled in?”
“Yes,” she said. Just that and nothing more.
He would have to pry the words from her mouth.
Annoyed, he advanced on her.
“What did I do?”
She glanced at him. “What did you do? Except refuse to release my son and keep me prisoner?”
He’d seen Virginia’s many emotions, but never anger. She’d been contrite, sad, amused, and fiercely protective of their son. He had never seen her cloud-colored eyes flashing their own kind of lightning until tonight.
“Are you a prisoner?”
She walked away from the window, marking each object in the room with a delicate touch of her fingertips. Her palm swept across the front molding of the bureau. At the secretary, she halted to straighten the blotter and a journal.
Returning to the window, she stood there for a long moment before finally turning to face him.
“It’s a luxurious prison, but it’s a prison all the same, Macrath.”
“You’re an honored guest,” he said.
Her slight smile was mocking. She’d never been derisive before.
When had she become so adept at putting him on the defensive?
“Have you come to seduce me, Macrath? Charm me into remaining at Drumvagen.”
“If I have?” He planted his feet apart, gripping his hands behind his back.
She was no longer the girl he’d known in London. Marriage hadn’t changed her as much as motherhood. He’d seen what she was willing to do for Alistair. The kitten had become a lioness.
Strange, she was only more fascinating.
“My marriage was never consummated,” she said, turning back to the window.
He remained silent, waiting.
“Lawrence paid his servant to bed me,” she said. She quickly glanced over at him and away.
“Did he?” How calm he sounded when he wasn’t feeling especially calm. The image of Lawrence in her bed hadn’t been one he wanted to contemplate, yet here she was, giving him another vision to lay over the first.
She turned and smiled at him faintly. “You know him well. Paul Henderson.”
The man he’d fought in her London town house. He should have killed the bastard.
“Does it matter?” he asked. “I didn’t come to our bed a virgin, either.”
Her eyes widened.
“I grew up in the streets of Edinburgh,” he said, annoyed again. “If you expect me to be as delicate as a London dandy, you’ll be disappointed.”
“You always sound very Scottish when you’re angry.”
“You don’t belong to him. You didn’t belong to Traylor, either.”
“Who do I belong to, then? You?”
He smiled. “I’d prefer that to the other, wouldn’t you?”
“I’d prefer to belong to myself.”
She didn’t smile, merely kept her gaze on him. He realized, then, she’d not told him the whole of it. She hated that Henderson had touched her as much as he did.
He walked toward her slowly, giving her a chance to stop him. When he stood in front of her, he reached out, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear.
“I could love you tonight,” he said. “Burn away the memory of anyone but me.”
She remained silent.
“But I won’t keep you here by passion, Virginia.”
She bowed her head. He extended his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“I could kiss you until you forget everything but my kisses. I could love you until you only remember my name, my touch.”
“Macrath,” she said, but he pulled back, pressed a finger against her lips.
Perhaps they talked too much. He leaned down and placed his lips on hers, gently at first. Angling his head, he deepened the kiss, her mouth opening beneath his.
She made a sound in the back of her throat. One of awareness or surrender, he wasn’t sure which. He pulled her deeper into his arms, until a thought couldn’t come between them.
Her hand reached up, fingers touching his throat. Long moments later he pulled back to find her watching him.
He smiled as he dropped his arms. “But you were right,” he said. “In the morning, we’d have the same problems between us.”
He strode to the door, turned and watched her. Did she realize leaving her was one of the hardest things he’d ever done?
Her eyes were wide, her face pale. She gripped the fabric of her skirts with both hands.
“Good night, Virginia,” he said, forcing a smile to his face.
Sleep would be a long time coming.
Chapter 28
Virginia half expected Macrath to return to her room. When he didn’t, she wasn’t disappointed. That’s what she told herself in the soft, filtered light of a gray Scottish morning.
Hannah, despite her anger at Macrath, was overjoyed to be back in the house, with water running hot from the boiler and a bathing chamber available. Her maid was positively giddy this morning, commenting on how lovely the day was—it wasn’t. Hannah also commented on the welcome she’d received from Brianag—which Virginia doubted. The one blessing in moving to Drumvagen was that she was able to visit the nursery without a long walk.
She’d tucked Elliot in herself last night.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Virginia said, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was perfect, if a little too styled for this raw day. She didn’t care about the loops of braids or the intricate bun. “But you mustn’t think we’re staying much longer.”
Hannah’s eyes met hers in the mirror.
“We’ve been gone for weeks already,” Virginia said. “My aim was not to remain in Scotland. Merely to get Elliot and return to London.”
Hannah bent and retrieved a hairpin, studying it like she’d never seen one before today.
“Do you think he will, your ladyship? Let Elliot go, I mean?”
“Not now,” she said. “But there must be something I can do. Or say.”
Once her hair was done, she stood, walking to the window. The brisk wind on the moor called to her. So did the sight of Macrath standing there, solitary and still, like he waited for her.
“I wish we’d packed my cloak,” she said.
“You can’t be thinking of going out in this,” Hannah said. “It’s blowing near a gale out there, your ladyship. Another storm is coming.”
“I’ve a chance to beard the lion in his den,” she said.
Without another word she left the room.
At the first rise she stopped, waiting for Macrath to turn and see her. When he did, she still didn’t move. Instead, she stood waiting for a sign, an encouragement. When he started walking toward her, she picked up her skirts and approached him.
The girl she’d been two years ago would have raced toward him, her laughter as free as a soap bubble. He would have held his arms open, catching her with his hands on her waist, twirling her around.
The woman she’d been, newly widowed, would have felt her heart expand at the sight of him. She would have joined him, held his hand, and let him lead her where he wished.
This Virginia was a bit more cautious, sadder, and more burdened.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
“I was coming to see you,” he said.
“Were you?”
He nodded. “I wondered if you would like to see the rest of Drumvagen.”
Surprised, she nodded. “I would.”
He reached into his pocket. “I’ve a present for you,” he said, extending a small book to her.
“Thank you,” she said, a little bemused. “It’s Tennyson.”
Did he mean her to recall their meeting in the Round Reading Room?
“Come and meet Jack and Sam,” he said, taking her hand.
They approached the tall building she’d seen before. When she asked him why it was so large, he grinned, looking like a boy.
“To hold my new invention,” he said. “The flywheel is sixteen feet high. I
t’s designed to make ice at a faster pace than anything I’ve invented,” he added. “Plus, it uses ammonia.”
He went on to explain the process and she tried to respond intelligently while vowing to read something about Macrath’s inventions.
Jack and Sam turned out to be young men who regarded Macrath as if he were godlike, asking questions and waiting respectfully for his answers.
She realized she’d never seen this side of Macrath before. Here was the man in charge of a growing empire, an employer, a task master, someone who noted the height of a massive wheel with a quick eye and asked a question about ratios beyond her understanding.
Sam greeted her with a shy smile. Jack, however, waited until Macrath and Sam were speaking to address her.
“Hannah is well, then?”
Surprised, she answered him. “Yes, she’s well. You know her?”
He nodded. “She came to visit with the laundress a few times. I met her then.”
She wanted to ask more questions but was constrained by the presence of the other men. But she did take the opportunity to give him a warning.
“She’s a good person, Jack,” she whispered. “I would not have her hurt.”
His face flushed. “I would never hurt her, miss. Ma’am. Your ladyship.”
She nodded and walked away, standing at the wide door. From there she could see the ocean glittering in the morning sun, and the rear of the house bathed by the same light.
“What was that all about?” Macrath asked, stepping close to her.
“Love, I’m afraid,” she said.
Macrath surprised her by not asking any further questions. Instead, he extended his arm and she put her hand on it, allowing him to lead her through the rest of Drumvagen.
He told her of the trials of finishing the house, pointing out where they’d found stones from a keep probably built hundreds of years earlier.
His stables were magnificent, built of the same brick as the house.
“Good Scottish stone,” he said with a smile. “Everything I could buy from Scotland, I did. What I couldn’t, I found in France or England. The chandelier in the hall, for example, is from France.”
“As is the furniture in my suite,” she said, then verbally retraced her steps. “In the suite I’m currently occupying.”
Karen Ranney Page 24