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Authors: Karen Ranney
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what with you beating each other over the head with swords for hundreds of years.”
“Perhaps I’ll get a chance to show you the real Scotland,” he said, hoping such an occasion never happened. He couldn’t imagine being trapped in a railroad car or carriage with Anderson for longer than a minute or two.
The man flicked his hand at him, as if to dismiss Scotland and Macrath. In the next moment he’d wandered off, leaving Macrath staring after him and trying to imagine the man as an in-law.
However, he’d been willing to put aside his feelings for Virginia’s sake.
Evidently, Virginia had put aside hers as well. For him.
Why was she here? Should he even care? She was here, and that was all that mattered.
V irginia studied her reflection in the pier glass as Hannah fluffed her hem and straightened her hoop.
“It’s a good thing you’re one of those women who look handsome in black,” her mother-in-law had said. “But you needn’t wear those nightgowns edged in black, I think.”
She had closed her eyes on that comment, not wishing to discuss her nightgowns with Enid.
Did she look her best in black?
Her eyes seemed to sparkle with unshed tears, looking bluer than normal. Even so, they were not as arresting as Macrath’s eyes.
If she could be only half as attractive a woman as he was a man, she would be beautiful indeed. Once, a maid had told her she had all the qualities of beauty save one: the confidence.
Now she was trembling, and when she clenched her hands into fists, the tremors crept inside.
She was caught on a fulcrum, one side of her grateful she was here because it was the one place on earth she most wanted to be, while the other desperately wanted to be away from this place. It was almost like being split into two—angel and sinner—and each side warring with the other.
The storm had struck since she’d seen Macrath. Rain sheeted the windows, and gusts of wind occasionally caused the panes to shiver in their frames. Should she be worried about the rolling thunder? Was it a sign of disapproval from God? This was not the first time she’d sinned, but the only time she’d done so egregiously, with premeditation and not as much regret as she should have felt.
“Have you been given your quarters, Hannah?” she asked.
“Yes, your ladyship. I have an acceptable room with a window overlooking the sea. I can smell it and hear the birds as well. No doubt they’ll wake me up in the mornings. Better than the maids arguing or carriage wheels on the cobbles, I’m thinking.”
“Good,” she said, wishing she had something to say to the girl. She and Hannah had never conversed much, but now it felt almost uncomfortable not to do so.
Or was she trying to think of anything but her upcoming dinner with Macrath?
Her gaze fixed on the massive four poster bed. Had Macrath imagined her here, too?
“Is there anything else I can do, your ladyship?”
Talk me out of this. Keep me from leaving this room. Instill some sense of decorum if not morality in me.
She only shook her head in response.
When Hannah answered the soft knock on the door, Virginia gave herself one last look in the mirror.
God help her, but she was running full tilt toward sin.
Chapter 8
T he dining room was shrouded, lit only by a pair of silver candelabra on the long mahogany table and one on the sideboard. Shadows lingered in the corners as if wishing to reach out and snare her.
She was seeing threats that weren’t there. If anything, she should be afraid of her own actions, not ghosts in a Scottish house.
“Perhaps it would be better if your maid joined you.”
She started, clasped her hands tightly together, and turned to the sound of his voice. He emerged from the darkness like Satan given human form.
If ever a devil tempted a woman, Macrath Sinclair did.
“Do I need a chaperone?”
“Perhaps it would be best if you had one,” he said. “You might be safer.”
Her skin pebbled at the sound of his voice,
“Perhaps I’ll get a chance to show you the real Scotland,” he said, hoping such an occasion never happened. He couldn’t imagine being trapped in a railroad car or carriage with Anderson for longer than a minute or two.
The man flicked his hand at him, as if to dismiss Scotland and Macrath. In the next moment he’d wandered off, leaving Macrath staring after him and trying to imagine the man as an in-law.
However, he’d been willing to put aside his feelings for Virginia’s sake.
Evidently, Virginia had put aside hers as well. For him.
Why was she here? Should he even care? She was here, and that was all that mattered.
V irginia studied her reflection in the pier glass as Hannah fluffed her hem and straightened her hoop.
“It’s a good thing you’re one of those women who look handsome in black,” her mother-in-law had said. “But you needn’t wear those nightgowns edged in black, I think.”
She had closed her eyes on that comment, not wishing to discuss her nightgowns with Enid.
Did she look her best in black?
Her eyes seemed to sparkle with unshed tears, looking bluer than normal. Even so, they were not as arresting as Macrath’s eyes.
If she could be only half as attractive a woman as he was a man, she would be beautiful indeed. Once, a maid had told her she had all the qualities of beauty save one: the confidence.
Now she was trembling, and when she clenched her hands into fists, the tremors crept inside.
She was caught on a fulcrum, one side of her grateful she was here because it was the one place on earth she most wanted to be, while the other desperately wanted to be away from this place. It was almost like being split into two—angel and sinner—and each side warring with the other.
The storm had struck since she’d seen Macrath. Rain sheeted the windows, and gusts of wind occasionally caused the panes to shiver in their frames. Should she be worried about the rolling thunder? Was it a sign of disapproval from God? This was not the first time she’d sinned, but the only time she’d done so egregiously, with premeditation and not as much regret as she should have felt.
“Have you been given your quarters, Hannah?” she asked.
“Yes, your ladyship. I have an acceptable room with a window overlooking the sea. I can smell it and hear the birds as well. No doubt they’ll wake me up in the mornings. Better than the maids arguing or carriage wheels on the cobbles, I’m thinking.”
“Good,” she said, wishing she had something to say to the girl. She and Hannah had never conversed much, but now it felt almost uncomfortable not to do so.
Or was she trying to think of anything but her upcoming dinner with Macrath?
Her gaze fixed on the massive four poster bed. Had Macrath imagined her here, too?
“Is there anything else I can do, your ladyship?”
Talk me out of this. Keep me from leaving this room. Instill some sense of decorum if not morality in me.
She only shook her head in response.
When Hannah answered the soft knock on the door, Virginia gave herself one last look in the mirror.
God help her, but she was running full tilt toward sin.
Chapter 8
T he dining room was shrouded, lit only by a pair of silver candelabra on the long mahogany table and one on the sideboard. Shadows lingered in the corners as if wishing to reach out and snare her.
She was seeing threats that weren’t there. If anything, she should be afraid of her own actions, not ghosts in a Scottish house.
“Perhaps it would be better if your maid joined you.”
She started, clasped her hands tightly together, and turned to the sound of his voice. He emerged from the darkness like Satan given human form.
If ever a devil tempted a woman, Macrath Sinclair did.
“Do I need a chaperone?”
“Perhaps it would be best if you had one,” he said. “You might be safer.”
Her skin pebbled at the sound of his voice,
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