The Virgin of Clan Sinclair (28 page)

“I will not be spoken to in that tone,” she said to her mother.

Enid’s mouth gaped open. For only a moment, however, until she began to protest.

“You’ve gotten snippy since your marriage, haven’t you? I’ll not take that behavior from you, child. Your sister would never have disrespected me in such a fashion.”

“Enough!” Ellice held up her hand, her gaze never once leaving her mother.

“When have you ever respected me, Mother? I’m only a poor substitute for Eudora.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not Eudora,” she said. “I’m not your beloved daughter who died. I’m the one who lived. I’m tired of hearing about what my sister did or would have done. I suspect that Eudora would have silenced you long before now.”

She grabbed her skirts and walked around her mother, heading for the kitchen. At the door, she stopped and turned.

“Must I die before you begin to value me as well?”

Without looking back, she made her way inside, hearing Pegeen behind her.

With any luck she could finish her task and leave Drumvagen before her mother got over her shock and planned her retaliation.

A few minutes later she was in the nursery.

“I’ve offended my mother,” Ellice said to Virginia, placing her reticule on the table.

She’d left Pegeen in the kitchen. No doubt the girl was being plied with questions about her, Huntly, and Ross. Pegeen, however, was canny enough to survive any interrogation.

Without thought to grace or manners, Ellice dropped into the chair, waiting as Mary gathered up the two older children for a walk. The baby was asleep in the cradle beside Virginia.

When she apologized for interrupting, Virginia shook her head. “They’ll not suffer for the lack of me. Besides, it’s little enough time I get for myself. I’ll take your visit as the treat it is. Tell me why you’re here, but first, what did you say to your mother?”

“I told her that I wasn’t Eudora and I was tired of being compared to her,” Ellice said, both hands on the arms of the chair. She looked upward. Drumvagen did not have nearly the plaster adornments of Huntly. On every ceiling at Huntly there was either a god or goddess looking down at her or a gathering of cupids—what was more than one cupid called?—or a magnificent painted scene.

Although it was almost restive to find nothing on the ceiling at all, it was also disconcerting.

“What did she say to that?” Virginia asked, nodding when one of the maids entered with the tea things. Say what she would about Brianag, the woman always furnished refreshments without being asked.

“I left before she could say anything. But she gave me a fulminating look. No one can scowl in a ladylike way like my mother.”

Virginia leaned forward, selected a nut and chocolate biscuit, one of Cook’s best treats, and nibbled on the edge.

“I’m so very tired of her being disappointed that Eudora died and I didn’t.”

To her surprise, Virginia didn’t look the least startled by her words. She only smiled, poured the tea and handed Ellice her cup.

“Enid is one of those people who will take advantage of every iota of tolerance,” Virginia said, taking another of the chocolate and nut biscuits. “If you don’t say anything, she will assume you don’t care. You must make your wishes known each and every time she says something. Until, of course, she finally learns that you mean what you say.”

“I always thought you and mother were in perfect agreement.”

Virginia laughed. “I doubt we were ever in perfect agreement over anything,” she said, to Ellice’s surprise. “The only thing we did well, evidently, is hide it.”

“But you get along now, don’t you?”

Virginia nodded. “But it took some time until your mother understood she wasn’t to criticize Macrath or Drumvagen, or me, for that matter.”

“She doesn’t,” Ellice said, realizing it. “I’ve never heard her say anything bad about you or Macrath. Although she does occasionally criticize Drumvagen, but that’s only to Brianag and only to annoy her, I suspect.”

Virginia sighed. “Ah, the only two devils in my perfect heaven. But for the two of them, peace would reign at Drumvagen.”

The far off sound of a child’s scream of protest made her smile. “Almost,” she said.

Virginia offered her the plate of biscuits, and Ellice took one, staring down at it.

“But you didn’t come to Drumvagen to have an argument with your mother.”

“I came for two reasons,” she said. “One of them was to talk to you.”

Virginia didn’t ask why, merely sat silent.

“Marriage is exceedingly complicated,” Ellice finally said.

“Exceedingly.”

“Men are even more so.”

“I concur,” Virginia said.

“Even Macrath?” Ellice asked, surprised.

“More than most.”

That made her feel marginally better, although she wasn’t sure why.

“I don’t know if I like Huntly, even though it’s a lovely place.”

“You need to make it yours,” Virginia said.

She returned the biscuit to the plate. “How?”

“When I came to Drumvagen, it was already built. Macrath had done everything he wanted in his home. Each door, each window, each painting, was exactly the way he wanted it. It took some time, but I had to make my mark here as well.”

“The Rose Parlor,” Ellice guessed. Virginia had turned what had once been a lovely rose suite into a sitting room and small library. The two rooms had been renamed the Rose Parlor.

Virginia nodded. “And a new conservatory we’re having built.”

“Very well, I might learn to live at Huntly. How do I learn to live with a husband?”

“You’ve been married less than a month,” Virginia said, her eyes soft. “It’s a difficult time.”

“It’s a hideous time,” Ellice said, blowing out a breath. “I adore the man and he barely tolerates me.”

“Why do you think that?”

Reaching forward, she picked up the biscuit again and took a bite from it. She chewed slowly and deliberately so she wouldn’t have to speak.

She didn’t want to tell Virginia about the interludes of passion followed by being ignored. Certain things should not be shared, even among women who loved each other.

“He has never said anything to me,” she finally explained.

“Men don’t, as a rule. They say things that make you guess it’s ‘I love you.’ Women, on the other hand, are more direct. We prefer the words.”

Ellice nodded.

She wasn’t sure Ross could ever love her, not the way she wanted. Not the way she’d always dreamed of being loved. She wanted to be herself, seen as who she truly was, and have the man she loved know and cherish that woman.

“Does he know how you feel about him?” Virginia asked.

“How do you hide that sort of thing?”

“It’s very possible he doesn’t know,” Virginia said. “You need to make sure he does. Then fight for him.”

“Even if I have to fight him?”

“Oh, yes,” Virginia said, laughing. “Especially then.”

She smiled, an easier expression now than fifteen minutes ago.

“What’s the second reason you’ve come?”

She told Virginia, finished her tea and stood.

“I’d better be going,” she said. “I want to be back at Huntly tonight.”

She kissed Virginia on the cheek, thanked her, and was making her way to the door when Virginia spoke again.

“About Enid.”

She stopped and turned.

“I think it’s time you stood up for yourself. I wish you’d done so years ago.”

That, too, made her feel better. With a lighter step, she made her way to the cottage.

Chapter 31

“W
here is my wife?”

Virginia frowned at the Earl of Gadsden, not at all surprised to see him so shortly after Ellice left the house.

“Do not refer to Ellice as if she’s a hat you’ve misplaced, your lordship.”

He surprised her by nodding. “You’re right,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re right, of course. Do you know where she is?”

“Yes.”

He frowned at her. “Are you going to tell me?”

She tilted her head and studied him. “I’m not entirely sure,” she said. “What did you do to her?”

His face took on the appearance of stone.

“What did she say?”

“Absolutely nothing, but Ellice would not have.” She regarded him with a frown. “I’ve known Ellice since she was fifteen,” she said, reaching for the pot.

He shook his head and she shrugged, pouring herself a cup of tea. She didn’t care if the Earl of Gadsden was impatient; he was simply going to have to hear what she had to say.

“I’ve always found her to be a reasonable girl. One who tries to accommodate people. Perhaps too much. She surrenders her own happiness to keep peace.”

Virginia sat back and sipped from her tea. She enjoyed this brew. In an hour or so Brianag would bring her the nightly tea she drank. She was determined to acquire a taste for it as well.

“I thought marriage would bring her happiness,” she said, studying him. “Why isn’t she blissfully happy, your lordship?”

She smothered a smile at his look.

“If you’ll pardon me for saying, Mrs. Sinclair, that is none of your business.”

His frown was back, just a gentle lowering of his brows, but his eyes had turned icy.

“Is there nothing about her that you like?”

He surprised her by smiling. “Your husband has a theory about wives and what it means when you talk about them,” he said. “Is that why you’re asking me about Ellice?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m just trying to decide if I’m going to tell you where she is.”

“I like a great deal about her, Mrs. Sinclair. She admires my library. She’s fond of my mother. My mother is well on her way to adoring her. She seems to make my staff happy. They smile a great deal around her. She’s a little messy, but so am I. She thinks about things I never would. I never know what she’s going to say. Or do,” he added.

“Is that such a bad thing?”

He sent her such a fierce glare that she was almost intimidated. However, she’d been married to Macrath long enough that she wasn’t cowed by a stubborn man.

“No,” he said, finally. “It isn’t. It’s startling and different and uncomfortable at times but it isn’t a bad thing at all.”

She took another sip of her tea.

“Will you tell me where she is?” The ice was gone from his eyes. “Please.”

“You don’t know why she came to Drumvagen, do you?”

Once again he gave her an impatient look, a quick glance from his gray eyes that said he would just as soon dispense with any further conversation and find his wife.

“She’s at the crofter’s cottage,” she said.

He frowned. “The one on the way to Drumvagen?”

She nodded. “You can follow the road or cut through the glen,” she said. “Either way, you’ll find her there.”

He made his excuses with enough haste to border on rudeness.

She chuckled as he left, imagining their confrontation. Ellice would give as good as she got, which is exactly what she should do. Being in love was no excuse to be a carpet for a man.

The more stubborn the man, the more obstinate the wife needed to be. After all, it was only fair.

She smiled, thinking of the skirmish to come.

I
n the crofter’s cottage, Ellice moved the stone out of its place and withdrew the wrapped manuscript of
The Lustful Adventures of Lady Pamela
from its hidey-hole.

She took it to the table, sat there with her hand on it, staring down at the stack of pages.

Would he understand?

Ever since her marriage, Lady Pamela had begun fading in importance. Where once the character had given her courage, and sometimes even hope, now Lady Pamela was a barrier between Ellice and her husband.

The door abruptly flew open, so strongly that it banged on the wall behind it.

She stood, facing a force of nature. Not a storm or a gale, but Ross Forster, enraged.

“You’re not going to leave me,” he said.

Startled, she could only stare at him.

“I’m not?”

“No. I’ll tear Drumvagen down, brick by brick with my bare hands if I have to, but Sinclair will not give you shelter. You are not going to leave me.”

“What makes you think I was leaving you?”

His eyes weren’t cold now. Instead, she had the strangest thought that she might catch fire if she met his gaze any longer.

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“I left you a note. Didn’t you get it?”

“What note? What did it say?”

“That I had an errand at Drumvagen and would be back at nightfall.” She took a step toward him. “I’m not Cassandra, Ross.”

“I know that,” he said, frowning at her. “I was never once annoyed at her. She didn’t anger me. She certainly didn’t say things that made me want to clamp my hand over her mouth. When she wrote, they were thank-you notes and letters to her sister.”

“Never lustful literature.”

“Never lustful literature,” he said, surprising her with his smile.

“You truly thought I left you?” she asked, still surprised. Or maybe she was more startled that he’d come after her.

“Were you afraid of another scandal?” she asked, retreating one step. “Is that why you’re here?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “No. I don’t care. Let people talk about me all they want.”

Her eyes widened.

“I find I care about damn few people nowadays,” he said, crossing to her. “I can count them on the fingers of one hand. You. My mother. You.”

“You counted me twice.”

“You matter twice as much as anyone.”

She was not going to cry. Instead, she needed to tell him what she felt.

“I love you,” she said. “I’ve loved you for a very long time. Or, at least it feels that way. You make me tingle just looking at me. I want to smile when you’re around me. I’m miserable when I don’t see you.”

He took another step but she held up her hand.

“But I’ll not have the type of marriage we’ve had for the last two weeks. I won’t be ignored. I won’t be shuffled off into a corner of your life. That’s not the kind of love I want.”

“What kind of love do you want?” he asked gently.

“Once I might have said like Donald and Lady Pamela. But they’re imaginary. I want you to adore me like Macrath adores Virginia. Like Logan adores Mairi. I want to make your life better for being in it.”

He came to her, bent his head until his lips were against her temple. “You’ve changed me, Ellice. You’ve made me whole. I won’t live my life without you.”

He rested his forehead on hers.

“ ‘Life has no meaning without you in it. Without the glory of the dawn in the shine of your hair. Without the blue of the skies in your eyes.’ ”

“I wrote that,” she said, pulling back. “I was a bit overblown there, wasn’t I?”

He smiled down at her. “Not at all. Donald is a man in love. Men in love say things that sound a bit overblown to anyone else.”

“Do they?”

He nodded again. “Things like your eyes are as soft as velvet sometimes. And sometimes as hard as stone. I can always gauge your mood by how your eyes sparkle or if they don’t. If you’re amused or sad or a dozen other emotions. The rest of your face can be perfectly still, but you can’t hide your eyes.”

She looked away, never knowing that she revealed herself so easily to him. Or that he’d cared to look.

She didn’t expect him to grab her, haul her up against him and kiss her soundly. She should have known that she would surrender all too soon despite any wish to seem cool and unaffected. Lady Pamela might be a great actress; she never would be. The minute Ross touched her, she melted.

When he finally released her, she took two cautionary steps back and added another one for good measure.

He stood there, a handsome man with eyes that had always transfixed her, especially when they were as heated as they were now.

She turned and grabbed the manuscript and thrust it at him. “Here,” she said. “It’s why I came to Drumvagen. I wasn’t running away. I wasn’t leaving you. I came to get the book to give it to you.”

“Give it to me?” He stared down at the oiled-paper-wrapped package in his hands.

“It’s a gesture, Ross. A grand gesture.”

“What do you expect me to do with it? Destroy it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Not as much as you do.”

He looked as if she’d struck him.

“I would never destroy it,” he said. “It’s your work. Your creation. Besides, it brought us together.” His smile was wry. “My mother thinks my father had something to do with our marriage. If I hadn’t visited Drumvagen, I would never have met you.”

“Or if I hadn’t hidden in a carriage,” she said.

“Or if the storm hadn’t come and trapped me here.” He placed the manuscript back on the table.

“Or you hadn’t been so kissable,” she added.

“And you, such a temptation.”

They smiled at each other.

“Despite all my flaws,” she said, determined to be completely honest with him, “I’m good enough.”

A vertical line formed between his brows.

“What do you mean, ‘good enough’? Of course you’re good enough. You’re beyond good enough. You’re Ellice.”

She blinked at him.

“That’s perfect for me.”

She couldn’t speak.

“I love the way you laugh and the way you’re touched by something beautiful. I love your curiosity, your questioning, your imagination, your temper.”

“I don’t have a temper.”

He only smiled and reached for her.

“I love the way you’ve brought life to Huntly. To me. I love you.”

Could you cry and smile at the same time? It seemed she could, especially when he pulled her back into his arms.

He bent his head and kissed her tenderly, sweetly, the gentleness making her want to weep again.

When the kiss was done, she lay her cheek against his chest, sighing in happiness.

“What are you looking for?” she asked, glancing up to find him staring out the cottage window.

“A storm,” he said. “Macrath once told me that love is like lightning. That it strikes when you least expect it.”

“Have you been struck by lightning?” she asked, breathless.

“Yes,” he said. “I find I have.”

That deserved another kiss. When they parted, he looked down at her, his finger delicately stroking the path of one tear.

“I love you, Ellice Traylor Forster. Come home with me.”

She should have told him that home wasn’t London or Drumvagen or even Huntly. Home was in his arms. But he kissed her again and every thought flew out of her mind.