Elusive by Linda Rae Blair Page A

to
his Scottish heritage. But since the McDonnoughs were still
searching for Sòlas’s heirs, he still could not claim the name that
was rightfully his. So many secrets—kept for so very long, she
sighed.
    Putting the letter down, she realized that
her head was pounding. Rubbing her fingers in circles at her
temples, she tried to release some of the pressure that had been
growing there since she had started reading his letter.
    She should be angry with him for lying to
her, she thought, but how could she be when all he had ever done
was protect her by maintaining the lies? Now he expected her to
carry on with the lies? And to what end? To take possession of some
dark, damp Scottish castle? Did she even want it? It had probably
crumbled to dust in the last two-hundred years. What had he gotten
her into?
    Then she realized that dear Roddy had very
probably given his life to give her this gift . If it was
that important to Roddy, she would damned well do her part to
follow through. She would be damned if she would let him die in
vain! And so, the dedication to family survived.

    **************************

    Chapter 12: Escape to Scotland
    Paris, France - May 1912

    Roddy had been gone for two weeks. His
apartment had been emptied out, his belongings, other than the
things she prized most highly, the family photos, his favorite
vase, his pipe, cuttings from his plants—everything else was
gone.
    She had wept until she thought she had no
more tears to shed. She was small to begin with, now she was ten
pounds lighter, her cheeks had hollowed out, her eyes were
heavy-lidded from all the weeping. She had always hated crying,
especially in front of others. She was usually a strong, young
woman, usually patient, and unfailingly slow to lose her
temper—though fiery when she did. Once her temper was riled, she
could battle with the best.
    She loved the scents of Paris, the smell of
rain in the air just before it started falling, the damp air
afterward, and had always enjoyed slow, quiet journeys during which
she could soak it all in. She loved the breezes that swept through
off the Seine, the colors used by the artists on the streets, the
scents of the cafés. Everything had brought her such joy.
    Now she felt shaky, unsure, weak, and alone.
Her temper flared at the slightest provocation. Only her
determination to avenge Roddy’s death and go after what he had
given his life to protect stiffened her spine these days. Enjoyment
was something she simply did not have the time for any longer.
    Madame had told her to take as much time as
she needed to deal with her grief. She had avoided the shop, Madame
and Esmée, since reading the letters. She had been afraid she would
not be able to hide her secret from them. It could not be avoided
any longer.
    As she walked into the shop, Madame and Esmée
watched her silently before approaching with arms open to embrace
her. The merchandise, which had always brought her so much
pleasure, now held no interest at all. This was going to be
difficult, but it had to be done. She would go to Edinburgh and
find this lawyer who knew the rest of the story. Perhaps he held
the key to what she would have to do next.
    Madame was shocked to see the change in her.
She was so thin, she looked so very tired. There was a heaviness—a
weight about her spirit that had not been there before. She nearly
wept, but mustered her best smile and gave her their usual
greeting.
    “I need to talk to you,” Blair told the women
who had been the closest females to her for the last three
years.
    “Esmée, Chéri, please put the closed sign on
the door. Then we will go out back and talk,” Madame responded.
While Esmée closed the shop, Blair and Madame joined hands and
walked to the back of the shop, and then they stepped outside to
the patio.
    Once they were seated at the table and Madame
had assured they each had a glass of white wine, Blair began. “I’m
leaving Paris for an extended time. I do not know when,” she