The Witch Of Clan Sinclair (28 page)

“Do I have any say in this?” Logan asked.

Macrath glanced over his shoulder. “Of course,” he said.

“I’d like to talk to Mairi. In private.”

“Fine, talk to her. I wish you well.”

Macrath motioned to the rest of them, and one by one they left the room. No doubt they would congregate in the hall listening.

“You aren’t leaving me alone with him?” Mairi asked.

“I believe the entire situation is because you were alone with him, Mairi. Of your own accord.”

She sighed.

Once Macrath and the others had left the room, she turned to Logan. “You needn’t sacrifice yourself, Logan. My family will eventually forget about this.”

“Will they?”

She nodded.

He smiled before walking away and serving himself coffee and a scone. How very polite they were being. She wanted to shout or scream or stomp her feet to express her frustration and embarrassment.

Every single member of her household knew what she’d been doing the night before. Allan, who before today had been her loyal employee, was a future member of her family. Somehow, having him witness this debacle was even more humiliating.

Logan didn’t speak, seemingly content to watch her as he sat on the opposite chair, arranging his cup and plate on the table beside him.

She’d never known anyone who could be as calm while inciting violence in others. Very well, violence in her. She wanted to pummel the man. Or kick him in the shins. Or trip him as he walked. At the same time, she wanted to kiss him senseless and wrap her arms around his neck as they went through the rest of their lives.

If she married him, her life would never be peaceful again.

How could he throw her into such a state so easily? How could he run riot over her emotions? How could he do this to her by not saying a word?

“It’s an idiotic notion,” she said.

He bent one eyebrow at her and continued chewing.

“I’m not sure I even like you. How can I contemplate living with you the rest of my life?”

He took a sip of his coffee, then placed the cup back on the table.

“I think you like me,” he said, his lips curving. “I think you proved that last night.”

Her cheeks warmed.

“Nevertheless, this is not a grand scandal,” she said. “No one knows but the people in this house. There’s no need for heroic gestures to save me. I’m perfectly able to save myself.”

“Then your answer is no?”

“Most emphatically no.”

How dare he sit there looking at her with his beautiful green eyes, stirring his coffee so silently that she couldn’t even hear the clink of the spoon against the cup. There was no sound in the room at all. Even his breathing seemed muted.

It should be storming. Thunder should be bellowing from cloud to cloud. Lightning should spear the earth. Instead, it was a snowy December morning and she was absolutely terrified. Perhaps she could blame her trembles on the cold, even though this room was warm from the blazing fire.

“I wouldn’t be a good political wife, Logan,” she said. “I’m not at all retiring. I’m not conformable.” Her laughter held an edge. “I am most definitely not conformable. I want to know the answer to things. I may even invade the council meeting and report on what’s happening in Edinburgh.”

What was he thinking? Why wouldn’t he look at her?

Part of her wanted him to rage at her, try to change her mind. She suddenly realized, watching him, that he would do no such thing.

Logan would never attempt to manipulate her. If she went to him it would be of her own accord. He wouldn’t try to convince her; she would have to be certain of her own mind.

Was she that brave?

Her body thrummed at his touch. He drove her to tears. She wanted to laugh with him and sob against his chest, all violent expressions of emotion that didn’t seem to be love.

Love shouldn’t be turbulent or troubling.

Words were her stock in trade. At the moment, however, they were diamonds glittering in a field of glass. She couldn’t find the right ones.

Standing, she walked to the window. This view was of his garden, no doubt a lovely place in the spring.

“You only want to protect me with marriage,” she finally said. “It’s not necessary. No one, if they ever hear of this morning, would ever think ill of you, so scandal isn’t a consideration.”

“For an intelligent woman you’re remarkably stupid.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him.

He was angry. Angrier than she’d ever seen him. He was very calm, very reasoned, but his eyes were flashing fire and his smile was tight.

He held his cup with a white knuckled hand.

Who was he to be enraged? She was the one who’d been trotted out like a mare ready to be mounted.

“I think you’d better tell Macrath that there will be no marriage,” she said. “That way, he’ll know it for certain.”

She was determined to be polite and calm. Every second that passed was even more difficult to hold onto that resolve.

“Are you saying your brother doesn’t trust your word?”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” she said, feeling her temper slip a little. “Only that if you tell him, he’ll understand that it isn’t just my idea. He’ll know we both feel the same.”

“But we don’t,” he said, taking a sip from his cup.

How dare he throw her into confusion with three simple words?

“You didn’t suggest marriage, Logan. My brother did.”

“Is that what concerns you? Fine. We’ll wait an hour or two, send them home, then I’ll sweep you up in a romantic embrace and propose marriage.”

“The reason would be the same.”

“Would it?” he asked. He smiled, an expression that was polite but not the least whit intimate.

She folded her arms, staring down at the carpet.

“You’d better tell your brother,” he said. “Because if I speak to him, he’ll know the truth.”

“And what is that? That you’re determined to do the right thing? You’re much too honorable for this situation.”

“No, I fall under the category of fool,” he said, still speaking in an even tone. “For falling in love with a woman too stupid to recognize that fact.”

He left the room before she could rally, before she could think of a thing to say. She stared at the closed door, hearing his voice. Still even, still polite, still capable of stirring her to the core.

He loved her?

Why had he suddenly declared himself now?

And why did she suddenly want to cry?

Chapter 31

T
he carriage ride home was a silent one and uncomfortable as well. Mairi deliberately didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. She knew what she would see: condemnation as well as surprise.

She had always been level-headed. She’d never been a dreamer or a romantic. Not for her balls or parties or strolls in the park. No, she wrote her articles, solicited information from her sources, set type, and ran the press. Until Fenella had spoken up, she’d no idea she had imposed her schedule on anyone else.

Calvin had been her only frivolity, if she could call him that, but the relationship was short and painful. In the end he had considered her unacceptable and unfeminine in her pursuits.

At least Logan had never thought her unwomanly. She wanted to fan her heated cheeks but didn’t wish to call any more attention to herself. No doubt each of the carriage occupants were thinking Calvinlike thoughts.

There she goes, losing her mind. And not just subtly, either. She had an affair. An affair with not just any Edinburgh inhabitant. No, she had to choose the Right Honorable Lord Provost.

Then, to compound the horror of her actions, she turned down a perfectly acceptable proposal of marriage. Just when she would’ve been saved from her own actions and contemptible character, she refused.

She could hear the words, although not one person spoke in the carriage.

Marriage was too high a price to pay for being foolish.

Oh, and she had been foolish, hadn’t she?

She could fight against society’s prejudice of her as a woman. She could convince a man who was reluctant to speak with her that it would be in his best interest to do so. She could produce broadsides and sell them, thereby preventing the company from going under financially. She could force herself to stand in front of a group of strangers and speak to them about her life. She could even survive being attacked by a gang of men.

But she had no defense against herself.

Nor had she ever thought she’d need one.

No one had ever told her that she might feel such passion or be helpless when faced with it. They certainly had never told her that she’d call herself twelve times a fool.

What had she done?

She was not a weak woman. Why, then, was she acting that way around a man? Logan smiled at her and her insides warmed. He grinned and she wanted to laugh. He walked away and she had the strangest compulsion to follow him.

In his bed, she’d acted the harlot. How could she disagree about that? She’d nearly dared him to take her on the floor of his library and gloried in the possession.

They were combustible together.

Just like that, memories of this morning were there, so real she could almost feel him inside her. A hot tide swept over her, made her look down, anywhere but at someone. They would see it on her face. They would know, by her eyes, that she was suddenly overcome.

What had she done?

What did it matter that he’d asked her to marry him in a moment of embarrassment for both of them? Why was that important?

He loved her.

Oh, dear God, he loved her.

What had she said? Something foolish about not being a politician’s wife. She didn’t care if he was a politician or a ship’s captain.

What had she done?

Logan would probably never willingly be in the same room with her after this morning. Had he ever been rejected? Or so publicly?

After all, he was the Right Honorable Lord Provost and Lord Lieutenant of Edinburgh, Highlander of old, braw and strong and too much a champion to lose easily.

A man with a great deal of pride, too much to appear on her doorstep and beg her to hear him out or take his hand in marriage.

No, he’d only agreed to Macrath’s outlandish proposal because of circumstances. He felt nothing but a smidgeon of embarrassment, if that, over the situation.

If they’d never been found out, he wouldn’t have demanded she marry him. Instead, he would have fed her breakfast, had his driver take her home, and congratulated himself on a night well-spent.

Or maybe she was wrong. Had she really been so foolish to turn her back on Logan Harrison?

Dear God, what had she done?

W
hen they returned home, James stopped the carriage in front of the house.

“I need to speak with you, Mairi,” Macrath said.

She truly wanted to escape to her bedroom, but a look from Macrath indicated that it wouldn’t be wise to avoid this meeting. She sighed inwardly and went into the parlor, standing in front of the glowing fire.

She heard him entering behind her.

“Say what you have to say and be done with it, Macrath,” she said without turning.

“Thank you for joining us,” her brother said in response.

She turned to see Robert entering the parlor. Everyone else, however, had evidently been dismissed, because Macrath closed the door, leaving the three of them alone.

She truly wasn’t in the mood to be lectured by both of them. Very well, she erred. She’d admit that without reservation. It was altogether likely that she would make stupid mistakes in the future. Perhaps even mistakes involving the Lord Provost.

Would Logan ever seek her out again? Or would he be so offended by her refusal that he avoided her?

She would have to simply learn to get along without him. Granted, he’d been in her life for two months, but before that, she’d never seen him. She’d never sat in a room with him, feeling like the air was charged by his presence. She’d never argued with him, feeling her blood heat from trying to convince him of a point. She hadn’t seen him in his kilt, a laughing glint in his eyes daring her. She’d never known what it was like to kiss him, or to be loved by him.

She would probably be known as a fallen woman, but the journey off the pedestal had been glorious.

All she had to do was forget a few things. Like the way he kissed, for example, or the shine of the sun on his hair. Or his eyes glittering with amusement. How he’d laughed, the sound echoing through the room and lodging in her heart. Or his white-toothed smile as he grinned at her.

She would take pains to forget his anger, too, as well as his heroism and courage. She would not remember the chill in his eyes or the knife edge in his voice.

“We have something to discuss, you and I,” Macrath was saying to Robert.

“Then you certainly don’t need me here,” she said, grabbing her skirts. She would’ve made it to the door had her brother not grabbed her elbow and held her there.

“This involves you as well, Mairi.”

“Is this truly the best time to discuss finances, Macrath?”

“I’m not discussing finances, Mairi.”

He dropped his hand and she turned to face him. Robert went to sit on the end of the settee, stretching his feet toward the fire. He often complained, in the winter months, that each joint felt the crimp of the cold.

Now, however, he didn’t utter one word. She looked from him to Macrath, frowning. Perhaps, after the debacle of this morning, it was best to keep her mouth shut, at least until she figured out what Macrath had to say.

“Don’t you have something to tell us, Robert?”

The older man tilted his head back, staring at Macrath, the point of his beard making his face appear long and narrow. A smile would have softened his appearance, but Robert rarely found amusement in life.

“Your father was nearly a saint,” Robert said. “I never thought to say this, but it’s glad I am that he hasn’t lived to see the day when his children turned against all he thought dear.”

He extended a bony forefinger in Mairi’s direction. “You have acted the whore with no shame, no regrets.”

Before she could comment, he turned to Macrath. “And you, encouraging her in her sin. She should be punished, and all you do is accept her willfulness.”

“Is that your long-winded way of denying your culpability?”

Robert stood, drawing himself up so straight he looked as rigid as one of the iron poles of the ornamental fence in front of the house.

“You set the fire?” Mairi asked, stunned.

“I did not. I most assuredly did not.”

“No,” Macrath said. “You might not have set the fire, but you wrote incendiary letters. Or are you going to deny that, too?”

Robert dragged a hand down his beard until it pointed toward the floor.

Macrath folded his arms in front of his chest, looking as sympathetic as a wall.

Did he really believe that Robert had done such a thing? Granted, he was a fire and brimstone kind of man, but she couldn’t see Robert using the words that had been written in the letter.

“Not only did you write the letters, Robert, but you’ve tried to make Mairi’s life miserable. I asked you to help her, not question the expenditure of every coin.”

Robert held his hands out, palms up. “If I erred, Macrath, it was in memory of your father. I knew what he gave up to make the paper profitable.”

Mairi had had enough.

“I loved my father with all my heart,” she said. “But the
Gazette
was never profitable when he was alive. Macrath didn’t make it profitable, either. Whatever contributions you made to it, Robert, were in terms of words like frustration and irritation. I was the one who made the paper profitable. I was the one who worked all those nights alone. I’ve been the only reporter for weeks and months and years. I even became a hawker when one of them couldn’t come to work.

“What did I come home to? Not praise. Not support. Nothing as fine as that. I had to justify every cent I spent. You never said a kind word to me, including anything about my father. If you cared so much for my father, you would have cared a little for his daughter.”

Macrath started to speak, and she turned and faced him. “I love you, Macrath. You are my only brother. Yet you treat me like I’m a child. Why not come to me and tell me your suspicions about Robert, rather than confronting him in my place? I don’t need to be protected. I don’t need to be shielded from the world.”

She shook her head, but stopped abruptly when Macrath began to smile.

“Am I amusing to you?”

“I just figured out why you turned down the Lord Provost,” he said. “Not because you don’t love the man, Mairi, but because of your pride. You won’t be married for the sake of shame.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Macrath.”

“Which part? That you won’t be married? Or that you love the man? Any fool could see that part.”

When he was a little boy, Macrath hated to have his face washed. Instead of listening to him fuss, she would simply grab him around the neck and apply washcloth and soap to the dirty bits, holding him firmly when he squirmed. Right now she wished he hadn’t grown too big for such treatment. She would’ve done the same thing, and while she was at it, left the soap in his mouth.

“You’re like two donkeys in harness,” he said, still smiling.

“I thought you would offer me an apology, Macrath, rather than a smirk. And you,” she said, pointing at Robert, “I deserve an apology from you, too, for three years of being an insufferable ass.”

When the older man reared back, she almost apologized, but restrained herself. People—men—simply had to understand that she was not going to stand for it anymore.

She was tired of working herself to the bone and receiving absolutely no appreciation for it. The only person who had ever seemed to appreciate her was Logan.

Must she think of him again?

She looked from Macrath to Robert.

“Just tell me why. Why would you do such a thing?”

Robert looked at her. “I thought you would listen to reason, realize how the world perceived you. But you didn’t. You were all for going about your business with no care to propriety.”

She wasn’t certain if he meant running the newspaper or lusting after Logan. She wasn’t going to ask for clarification, either.

“I want you out of my house.” She turned to Macrath. “I don’t need a keeper. I can keep myself.”

Macrath had the good sense to stay quiet and mute his smile. Robert almost started to say something, but she gave him a look that made him think twice before she marched out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.

T
he next morning Mairi opened her door reluctantly at the knock. She really didn’t want to see anyone. What could she say that she hadn’t already said? Nothing anyone told her would make her change her mind.

Macrath stood there, looking much as he had when he was a little boy and caught her doing something wrong: part charm and part delight that she, as the older sibling, had erred.

She sighed inwardly and waited for his lecture.

Instead of launching into a speech, however, all he said was, “In view of all that’s happened, I’m taking Ellice home.”

She didn’t offer a comment, such as: the girl hasn’t had a chance to see Edinburgh yet. She’d been a hideous chaperone and she couldn’t blame Macrath for whisking the girl away, back to Drumvagen and safety.

“I understand,” she said, her voice sounding oddly gray.

She should get dressed and bid them farewell at the door, ensure that Cook supplied them with a basket of treats for their journey. What she wanted to do was go back to bed and put a pillow over her head.