Free Return to Clan Sinclair by Karen Ranney Page B

her the world if she wanted it. He could afford to take her anywhere, live anyplace she chose. Her future was not limited to Scotland.
    He would take her to his home in Philadelphia, to the mansion he’d built with her in mind. He remembered the town house where they had once lived, and there were certain details common to both homes: the fan light above the front door, the brass knocker, the delicate roselike shade that was her favorite. He’d had rosebushes planted all over the grounds. She would love the home he’d created for her.
    His investigation told him she’d had two more children. But they were of an age when they didn’t need their mother. She was free now, as free as he was, to pursue the happiness that had eluded them. She would understand, as soon as he had a chance to explain it to her.
    He would show her how much he loved her.
    By the time they left Scotland she, too, would be regretting the waste of the last decade.

 
    C HAPTER T EN
    â€œI t’s a wondrous place, isn’t it?” Bruce said from behind her. She turned, her skirt twirling about her ankles. He was dressed, but it was evident from his wet hair he’d been swimming.
    â€œI didn’t get a chance to admire the grotto the other day,” she said, her face flaming. She had been too busy fixated on something else: him. “It’s truly a miracle of nature, isn’t it?” She moved to stand below the opening in the ceiling. Sunlight beamed down on her, encapsulating her in a golden glow.
    When she turned to look at him again, he was studying her.
    â€œWhat?” she asked. She rubbed at her nose and then her forehead. “Have I something on my face?”
    â€œBeauty,” he said.
    He mustn’t say things like that.
    He strode past her, turned and held out his hand. “Come, I’ll show you the beach.”
    She shouldn’t take his hand. She shouldn’t be lured anywhere with him. Still, she put her hand in his, their palms pressing together. His skin was warmer than hers.
    â€œWhere have you been?” she asked.
    He smiled. “Edinburgh. One of my operatives thought he sighted Henderson.”
    Had her question revealed how much she’d missed him the past two days? How much she thought about him? She’d been worried he’d taken off for some imaginary duty to avoid seeing her, but the look in his eyes now proved her fears were ridiculous.
    His glance warmed her down to her toes.
    â€œI should run in the other direction,” she said. “As fast as my feet can carry me.”
    â€œAnd I as well,” he said, smiling at her. “You take my mind from my work, Ceana Mead. I missed you. I wanted to do my duty and hurry back to Drumvagen.”
    Her heart was thudding so hard she felt breathless with it.
    â€œDid you?”
    He nodded.
    â€œDid you miss me?” he asked.
    How much braver he was than she.
    She nodded.
    â€œNow I’m back, I’m wondering how I’ll be able to sleep with your door only a few feet away. Then I think of Macrath and how he’s not only my employer, but my friend. I doubt he’d approve of my taking advantage of his hospitality.”
    His hands slid around her waist. Gently, he pulled her toward him.
    â€œQuite a dilemma, don’t you agree?”
    Wordlessly, she placed both her hands on his shirted chest. If she splayed her fingers she still wouldn’t reach from arm to arm. How very tall he was, and strong. Look how he’d caught Carlton on the day she first saw him.
    He wouldn’t come to her because of honor. Would she go to him because of need?
    Stepping back, she straightened her skirt, ran her hands down her bodice, fiddling with the cuffs. She really was tired of black, but she would have scandalized her Irish family if she’d chosen to wear any other color.
    Once a Mead widow, always a Mead widow.
    She would have to return to her life. Or go back to Ireland long enough