by Karen Ranney
She smiled, thinking of the skirmish to come.
In 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.
Epilogue
A year later
Mairi lumbered into the dining room, frowning at her husband when a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“You try being as big as a carriage,” she said. “You wouldn
’t be amused.”
Logan pulled out a chair for her, glanced at the mound of her stomach, and moved the chair even farther from the table.
“You have three more months,” he reminded her. “I can’t wait to see how large you get then.”
Mairi rolled her eyes. “You’re entirely too large,” she said. “Our daughter is going to be a mammoth child.”
“Or our son,” he said, the argument of long duration.
Virginia laughed, and when Mairi frowned at her made no effort to contain her amusement.
Macrath’s three children were alternately angels and devils, depending on their moods. Mairi and Logan’s offspring were no doubt going to be the same, especially given the stubbornness of their parents.
Macrath glanced at Virginia and then away, no doubt in an effort to keep from laughing as well.
Ellice watched them all, feeling a surge of joy that they were family, one not related by blood as much as choice.
They’d all converged on Drumvagen at Virginia’s request. Tomorrow they would leave for home again, but not before making plans for another reunion. Perhaps their next meeting would be in Edinburgh when Mairi’s child was born.
Reaching beneath the table, she grabbed Ross’s hand. They weren’t seated in proper dinner party style, not as they would be when they entertained at Huntly.
To her great surprise, she was quite a good hostess. All she really had to do was remember people’s names and find something about them to compliment. Since she knew how it felt to be uncomfortable and out of place, she was very good at that.
Over the last year, ever since Ross had been elected a representative peer, they’d entertained at least every week, especially when they were in Scotland. In London their home was in a lovely town house in a fashionable square, not far from where her mother now lived.
The Dowager Countess of Barrett had no qualms about taking vast sums of money from her son-in-law, who, thank Providence, had no reservations about spending it on her.
Ross had purchased a large town house for Enid and settled a generous annual sum on her as an allowance. That amount, along with the funds she’d earned from her book on housewifery hints, was enough to ensure she lived in luxury.
Her mother was overjoyed to be back in the most civilized city in the world, as she called it. As a Dowager Countess and the mother of a countess, not to mention the author of a best-selling book, Enid was feted and very popular.
Life at Drumvagen had settled back to a peaceful place with Enid remaining in London and Brianag resuming as resident martinet.
As far as her own home, Ellice had made Huntly hers in small ways, but it was Ross who’d done the most. Not only had he allowed Huntly’s staff to tour the library and read any books they wished, but one day he’d blindfolded her, leading her laughing through the house. Once they arrived at the Yellow Parlor, he removed the blindfold and showed her the shiny brass plaque on the door.
“The Lady Pamela Parlor?” she asked. She couldn’t see for blinking back her tears, especially when she entered the room to find that the painting of flowers above the mantel had been replaced by the new portrait of her he’d recently commissioned.
She looked beautiful. More, she looked happy.
Tonight he would look the same after she told him her own news. Mairi wasn’t the only one who was going to be huge in a few months.
Her mother-in-law would be pleased, but then Janet often looked happy lately, especially after her trip to Italy. She’d been gone for months, finally arriving home with tanned cheeks, a perpetual smile, and plans to visit Spain next summer. Coincidentally, they’d learned that Mr. McMahon had made a recent buying trip to the Continent.
When Ross would have spoken to his mother, Ellice discouraged him.
“Let her have her secrets,” she said.
Now it looked as if her family had their own.
Mairi glanced at Ross, who looked at her, then at Logan. Before she had a chance to ask what they were about, Virginia said, “Oh, do tell her.”
Mairi nodded.
Logan reached down, handing a parcel to Ross, who passed it to her.
From its heft and size, she could tell it was a book. The smell of the leather was strong even through the paper. Slowly, she unwrapped the package to see a blue leather-bound book with gilt-edged pages. The title was inscribed on the front in elaborate gold script.
THE LUSTFUL ADVENTURES OF LADY PAMELA
By Ellice Forster, Countess of Gadsden
She stared at it, spellbound.
“Nothing’s changed,” Ross said. “Not Donald’s appearance or the house. It’ll make people wonder if it’s based on real life or not.”
“You used my name.” She traced her fingers over the incised gold letters.
“Why should you do all that work and not be recognized for it?” Ross said. “It’s a very good book, Ellice.”
She shook her head. “You daft man. They’ll drum you out of Parliament.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “I’m a very good representative peer. If I lose the next election, they didn’t deserve me anyway.”
“You won’t lose,” Logan said, smiling.
Ross stood, gathered her up in his arms, smoothing his fingers over her tears.
She looked at them all: Macrath and Virginia, Mairi and Logan, and her own beloved Ross. Her imagination was silent because there was nothing more wonderful than this moment and these people.
Macrath Sinclair looked around the table before his gaze rested on Virginia, the woman responsible for filling his heart and his home with people he loved. Each of the people at this table had brought something to his life, and he hoped he enriched theirs as well.
Logan Harrison placed his hand on the mound of his wife’s stomach beneath the table. Even here, in the soft light from the candles, he could see that their babe was insistent and active. Mairi glanced at him and smiled, used to his touch.
Virginia blinked away her tears. Upstairs, her children slept, each one healthy and happy, members of a clan the man at her side had created, heirs to the empire he founded. Once, fate had seemed pitiless, but now her life was filled with joy.
The summer storm that had been threatening all day blossomed over Drumvagen’s roof. Thunder raced from cloud to cloud almost in celebration. Lightning created a show of fireworks and wind whistled in appreciation.
The house, built to shield and support a family, stood resolute beneath the onslaught.
Ross bent his head and kissed Ellice. She dropped the book on the table, wrapped her arms around his neck and enthusiastically kissed him back to the accompaniment of fond laughter.
Author’s Notes
Huntly was modeled after an estate not far from Edinburgh. As is common when I borrow a location, I’ve changed enough details that it would probably not be recognizable to those familiar with the house and all its wonders. Drumvagen, as well, was inspired by a house in Scotland.
Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure, or Fanny Hill as we’ve come to call it, was published in 1748. The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, also known as Tom Jones, was published in 1749. In 1899, Kate Chopin wrote The Awakening, a novel that detailed her heroine’s attempt to obtain sexual independence. Of course the book created a scandal, just like The Lusty Adventures of Lady Pamela might have.
Announcement
Keep reading to get a taste of
Virginia and Macrath’s story in
THE DEVIL OF CLAN SINCLAIR
and Mairi and Logan’s story in
THE WITCH OF CLAN SINCLAIR
The Devil of Clan Sinclair
Prologue
London
September, 1868
Please let him be there. If he hadn’t come to the Duke of Bledsoe’s ball, she didn’t think she could bear it.
He must have been invited. She’d done enough hinting to the duke’s daughter that she’d be very, very pleased if Macrath Sinclair was invited, along with his sister Ceana.
Sh
e’d waited so long already, a whole day, since seeing him. She’d told herself that all she had to do was be patient a few more hours. That refrain had sung through her mind all during the time her maid had dressed her hair, when the gown needed a few last minute stitches to keep one of the silly bows in place, and when her gloves were handed to her. Only one more hour, she’d thought as she was inspected by her father and Mrs. Haverstock, turning in a slow circle so her appearance could be judged.
To her surprise, neither her English chaperone nor her father had said a word. Nor had her father frowned, his usual expression in her presence. He only nodded, a sign to precede him into the carriage, Mrs. Haverstock following.
The carriage wheels had been too slow. Her heartbeat had been too fast. Hours, decades, eons later they were finally at the Duke of Bledsoe’s home, only for it to take forever before the carriage got to the head of the line and they could leave the vehicle. Because of the crush of people, there was another interminable wait to climb the steep stone steps, and yet another to enter the ballroom.
Would he like her hair? Her maid had done it in an intricate style tonight. What about her new scent from Paris? She’d thought about him the moment she uncapped the flacon, wondering if he would think the rose scent too strong. Would he think her high color attractive? She couldn’t help herself; the thought of seeing him after an absence of twenty-four endless hours reddened her cheeks.
Dear God, please let him be here. Please. She’d promise a dozen things, only let him be here.
She heard Mrs. Haverstock behind her, greeting friends. Moving away, she scanned the crowd for a sight of him.
Thank you, God. There he was. There, just beyond the pillar in the ballroom. Standing there, looking out at the crowd as the music surged around him.
She made herself wait, watching him. He was so handsome in his elegant black evening dress. He stood on the edge of the ballroom, a man with the studied gaze of a person twice his age. His stature was of someone who knew himself well, who’d gone through his own personal battles and won his wars.