The Witch Of Clan Sinclair (23 page)

He looked around the room, at the overflowing bins, inhaling the complex scents, and wondering why this place had such a fascination for her.

“She loves it, doesn’t she?”

“She’s a newspaper person, Provost,” Allan said. “Ink’s in her blood. She tells people about their world.”

“And hides here,” Fenella added.

Allan glanced at her.

“It’s the truth,” she said. “As long as she’s reporting on something or writing a broadside, she’s happy.”

He didn’t like them talking about Mairi when she wasn’t here to defend herself, but most of all he didn’t like what Fenella was saying.

He didn’t want her content with her life. He didn’t want her happy without him.

He’d been elected Lord Provost, the culmination of a goal. He was planning on a future in Parliament. Only recently had he realized that all his plans were somehow not enough. A certain woman of fiery temperament was what he needed to complete his life and add spice to it.

Perhaps he should take advantage of this time and marshal his arguments, prepare his courtship, and make strategic plans for when she returned.

He was in love, and damn it all, as stupid with it as Allan had declared himself to be.

The only difference was that the pressman’s affections were returned.

The fact that he didn’t know how Mairi felt was the one flaw in all his plans.

Chapter 25

“T
hey’re going to write a book?” Mairi asked. “And you’re going to publish it?”

“No,” Macrath said, grinning. “You’re going to publish it.”

Her eyes widened. “When am I going to have time to do that?”

“Make time,” he said.

“I’ve plans of my own, Macrath.” She’d been thinking about it over the last week.

She hadn’t taken advantage of being in Scotland’s capital by reporting on the political news of the day. Nor had she tried to convince readers of her own opinions and beliefs.

What if she did?

What if, instead of erring on the side of caution, and hoping to entice a broad group of subscribers, she narrowed the focus of the paper? What if the
Edinburgh Gazette
became the Edinburgh Women’s Gazette? What if she used the paper to promote women’s causes?

When she told Macrath her idea, he smiled broadly.

“Make it yours, Mairi. If you want to convince other people to your way of thinking, do so. If they’re good ideas, people will side with you.”

“Or they could cancel their subscriptions and the paper would be in financial ruin.”

He smiled. “Not quite that,” he said. “Not as long as people want to buy ice.”

“I can’t take money from you, Macrath.”

“I don’t see why not. You can consider me your financial backer. I am a contributor to women’s causes.”

She narrowed her eyes and looked at him. “You’ve never been interested in such things before,” she said.

“I’ve never been married to an intelligent woman before,” he said. “One who is going to have another child. I might well have a daughter. I want her to be treated with fairness and justice. You earned your place in the world, Mairi. Let me help you the rest of the way.”

When had he become so aware of the world? Macrath normally fixated on his inventions to the exclusion of everything else. She had to find Virginia and thank her with a hug.

“Only if I need help,” she said. “Only then.”

“You’ll need the money right away for the publishing company,” he said, stubborn as always. “I think you’ll make a success of your new venture, Mairi. Just make sure to protect yourself as well.”

She wasn’t sure if he meant the attack on her or guarding her heart. Either way, she nodded, kissed him and Virginia good-bye and entered the carriage, sitting beside Ellice.

The fact that Enid agreed to let Ellice travel to Edinburgh surprised Mairi. Especially since the girl was going to be in her company the whole time.

When she said as much to her brother, he smiled. “Enid has a cause. Her book.”

They said good-bye to Drumvagen, heading toward Edinburgh with a three tiered mission: the first, to educate Ellice about the capital of Scotland and the charm of Edinburgh. The girl would fall in love with the city, Mairi was sure. Secondly, to make monumental changes to the
Edinburgh Gazette
, and thirdly—a goal only an hour old—to publish books.

The idea excited her even though she didn’t know anything about it. Surely, though, printing a book and printing a newspaper couldn’t be all that different? Perhaps Allan knew something about the press required.

At the thought of her pressman, she sighed. She had to repair her relationship with Fenella.

While she was at it, she needed to solve the mystery of the letters.

She had a great deal to do, and all her tasks would keep her mind occupied. She wouldn’t have to deal with thoughts of Logan.

Ellice fidgeted with her cuffs, stared down at her polished shoes, traced each button from her waist to her neck. Today she was dressed in dark brown, with white cuffs and collar. White piping edged her hem and down the placket of her bodice. Her bonnet was brown with matching flowers.

The color suited her, a dark backdrop for her perfect skin and brown eyes.

Mairi was wearing a dark blue dress, one of the serviceable dresses in her wardrobe. Her bonnet was somewhere, perhaps in her valise. Or she had probably left it at Drumvagen.

Fenella was the only one who fussed at her for not wearing a bonnet, although Logan had questioned her twice now. Of course, any woman of his acquaintance must be properly attired at all times.

Perhaps she should start wearing more colorful clothes. In the past, she hadn’t been concerned about her wardrobe. However, now she wanted to leave an impression, and not one of a drab spinster.

When had she started thinking she was doomed to remain unmarried? Had Calvin done that to her? Or had her own uncertainties after he’d spurned her caused her to reject the notion? Granted, her duties of reporting and being editor of the
Gazette
occupied her time, but there was more to life than work, even if that work had purpose. Hadn’t Macrath proven that a man could have love, a family, and an empire?

If a man could have it, why not a woman?

Fenella was right.

“Thank you,” Ellice suddenly said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your taking me to Edinburgh. I shall be the very best house guest. Anything you want done, I’ll do.”

She reached over and patted the girl’s hand. “You don’t have to do anything, Ellice.”

“But I do, don’t you see? I was dying at Drumvagen. It’s a lovely house, and quite a wonderful place. But no one wanted to talk to me. Virginia was always busy either with Alistair or Macrath. Mother was occupied with her feud with Brianag, and all the maids were quite nice girls, but they were always worrying about talking too much.”

Ellice rolled her eyes. “I’ve been known to go out and talk to the sheep. Or the horses or any animal that would stand still long enough to listen to me. But even they seem to have better things on their minds.”

Mairi had never considered how Drumvagen might be isolating to the young girl. Even though Ellice was the sister of a deceased earl and the daughter of a dowager countess, she was doomed to remain in the Scottish countryside.

Edinburgh would look like paradise in comparison.

“I don’t know much about dances and balls and such,” she said. “But I’m sure there are some entertainments that would interest you.”

Ellice’s eyes widened. “Please tell me you’re not hinting that I should marry. I haven’t any wish to be married, at least not right away. It seems like I haven’t had any time at all just to be myself.”

Since she’d often felt the same, she didn’t try to convince Ellice otherwise.

But marriage didn’t seem such a terrible fate anymore, and wasn’t that a strange thought to have? Were her feelings connected to Logan Harrison by any chance?

What would’ve happened if she’d never written the broadside about the Lord Provost? She and Fenella would’ve gone back home, and she would probably have fussed and fumed for a while. Would she have involved herself in the SLNA? If she had, and the same circumstances had occurred, who would’ve come to her aid? Not Logan. Perhaps no one would have, and the outcome would have been more dire.

If she’d never written about him, would she still have spent the night in his arms?

The scenery sped by as she contemplated the question and another one even more troubling: what if he married the Drummond girl?

How would she bear it?

“ . . . don’t want you to regret taking me to Edinburgh,” Ellice was saying.

She came back to herself, smiled at the girl, and said, “I could never regret that.”

Macrath had been very clever by allowing Ellice to come with her to Edinburgh. By doing so, he ensured that her own behavior was impeccable. She had to be a good example, which meant no more nights away from home.

Surely that wasn’t a twinge of disappointment she felt?

She thought about all the things she could show Ellice. She would begin with telling her a little bit about Edinburgh’s history, how the city was built on volcanic rock. The girl would see Edinburgh Castle first, of course, everyone did. She’d design a path, one that Fenella could explore with her, James accompanying them and acting as chaperone. They’d start at the castle, head down Castle Hill, past the water tank that looked like a fortress, and left to the Camera Obscura erected in 1853.

Yes, she could keep all three of them busy with an itinerary of sites to visit, which would give her enough time to work on her new idea for the
Gazette.

“Let me tell you about the household,” she said. “You’ve met James, of course. Our driver. And Fenella, but you know her, of course.”

Ellice nodded.

“Then there is Robert. He’s our second cousin, and he came to stay with us when Macrath purchased Drumvagen. My brother wanted a chaperone for Fenella and me. Robert also does the books for the Sinclair Printing Company,” she said. He also lectured her incessantly about her expenses, but she didn’t make that comment. There was no need for Ellice to know that she and Robert were forever at loggerheads.

To her surprise, Ellice asked, “Will we be seeing the Lord Provost again?”

The question brought her up short.

Had Logan made another conquest? Evidently so, from Ellice’s blush. Did she need to warn the girl about him?

Don’t look at him as if he were a Highlander of old, armed with a broadsword, standing with arms folded, legs braced, a stern look on his face. Whenever you do, don’t let your heart be engaged, because such a man will only hurt you. He’ll talk to you about heiresses and women who are proper to be considered as his wife. He will ask you what you want in life, and then give you a set of criteria for his, none of which you could possibly match.

As if she even wanted to be a wifely candidate of his.

She had to stop thinking about the man.

“No,” she said. “We won’t be seeing him again.”

Ellice sighed. “What a shame. He’s so attractive.”

Especially in a kilt, but that was another comment she’d not make aloud.

The longer they traveled, the worse the weather. The sleet had claws, hitting the carriage windows, screeching against the panes.

She sat back against the seat, impatient to be home.

One of her first duties was to make peace with Fenella. Life was much more difficult when you had to consider the feelings of other people, people you loved, cared for, and never wanted to hurt.

She pushed away the image of Logan. The less she thought of him—and saw him—the better.

L
ife was perfect.

Macrath sat listening for a sound of discord. There was not a whisper of disunity. No glowering looks as Enid and Brianag met in the hall. No sniping remarks at dinner, when Enid made sure to tell him how her household had been so much more smoothly run.

Not once in the last day had Brianag entered the room with a complaint, only to stomp out when he refused to send Enid back to London.

Nor was there an indication of dissension about the rearing of his son. Enid’s English sensibilities had often clashed with Brianag’s Scottish beliefs, but not now.

The pounding of footsteps alerted him. Macrath looked up just as his son barreled into the library to wrap his arms around his legs.

He bent and lifted Alistair up in his arms.

As a baby, his son had looked like him. As the months passed, Alistair became even more a miniature version of himself. His hair was black and tousled more often than not. His smile bore a resemblance to Virginia’s, but his blue eyes were those of generations of Sinclairs.

“Go fishing, Papa,” he said. “Go fishing today.”

Alistair had started speaking early. His first word hadn’t been “Mama” or “Dada.” Instead, it was “Brianag,” which made both Macrath and Virginia suspect the housekeeper had repeated it endlessly to the boy.

“Not today, I’m afraid. It’s too cold. When it warms a bit, son.”

“He doesn’t understand the idea of the future,” Virginia said, standing in the doorway. “Alistair is a creature of now, I’m afraid.”

He strode to his wife, bent and kissed her, an activity their son tried to interrupt with hands that smelled of soap and jam.

Virginia smiled at him, reached up and trailed her fingers over her son’s cheek and then Macrath’s. “I don’t think he likes to fish all that much. I think it’s because he likes to be with you and have you all to himself.”

“Pity you don’t come fishing with me,” he said.

“But I have you to myself in different ways,” she said, her cheeks turning a becoming pink.

He laughed and kissed the tip of her nose.

“Fishing!” Alistair said.

“Aren’t you a fine little despot,” Virginia said, reaching out and taking Alistair from him.

“What you consider being stubborn, my love, is simply being a Scot.”

His American born wife laughed. “I think you have the right of it,” she said, in a credible Kinloch Village accent. “He’s just like his da.”

When he frowned at her, she laughed harder. His only recourse was to kiss her until amusement was the farthest thing from their minds.

No, life was good at Drumvagen, and he had his sister’s idea to thank for that.

When he said as much to Virginia, his wife smiled at him again.

“It’s you who gave them the notion of writing a book of recipes and housewifely hints. They’re in Enid’s suite making plans.”