The Heiress Bride (16 page)

She still didn't move, just looked about her. She thought of the list of things to be done that was already forming in her mind. So much to be done. Ah, but where to begin? She didn't want to think about her reception as the countess of Ashburnham, but she had to.

Colin had kept his arm about her waist as he led her through the gigantic oak front door into the large square first floor. He kept his arm around her even when all the servants appeared, all of
them staring at her, all of them doubtless seeing it as a very romantic gesture. The minstrel's gallery rose on three sides on the second floor, the railing old and ornate. A quite large chandelier hung down from the third story. There were high-backed Tudor chairs against the walls, and little else. She saw all of this in a haze, listening to Colin as he introduced one person after another. She hurt, but she wasn't a coward or a weak-kneed miss. She smiled and repeated names. But she couldn't remember a one after the repetition came out of her mouth.

“This is my aunt Arleth, my mother's younger sister. Arleth, my wife, Joan.”

An older, sharp-chinned face came into view and Sinjun smiled and took the woman's hand, bidding her hello.

“And this is—was—my sister-in-law, Serena.”

Ah, a very pretty young woman, not many years older than Sinjun, and she smiled nicely.

“And these are my children. Philip, Dahling, come here and say hello to your new mama.”

It was at that point that Sinjun simply stopped cold in her tracks. She stared at her husband, but he said nothing more. She thought she couldn't have understood him properly. But there, walking slowly toward her, their faces sullen, their eyes narrowed with suspicion, were two children. A boy, about six years old, and a little girl, four, perhaps five.

“Say hello to Joan. She's my new wife and your new stepmother.” Colin's voice was deep and commanding. She would have answered if he'd spoken to her in that tone. He'd made no move toward his own children.

“Hello, Joan,” the boy said, then added, “My name's Philip.”

“I'm Dahling,” said the little girl.

Sinjun tried to smile, tried to be pleasant. She loved children, she truly did, but to be a stepmother without any warning? She looked again at Colin, but he was smiling down at the little girl. Then he picked her up and she wound her arms around his neck and said, “Welcome home, Papa.”

Papa! It couldn't be true, but it was. Sinjun managed to get out, “Are you really darling? All the time?”

“Of course, what else could I be?”

Colin said, “Her name's actually Fiona, like her mother. There was confusion, so everyone started calling her Dahling, her second name.” He then spelled it for her.

“Hello, Dahling, Philip. I'm pleased to meet both of you.”

“You're very tall,” Philip said, the image of his father, except for cool gray eyes that were staring at her hard.

“You're all rumpled,” Dahling said. “There's an ugly scar on your face.”

Sinjun laughed. You could always count on children for unadorned candor. “That's true. Your father and I rode all the way from Edinburgh—indeed, nearly all the way from York. We're both in need of a good bath.”

“Cousin MacDuff said you were nice and we were to be polite to you.”

“It sounds like a good idea to me,” Sinjun said.

“Enough, children,” Aunt Arleth said, coming up to them. “Excuse them, er—”

“Oh, please call me Sinjun.”

“No, call her Joan.”

Serena looked from one to the other. It was at that moment that Sinjun wished with all her heart that she were standing on the cliffs next to Northcliffe Hall, looking out over the English
channel, the sea wind ruffling her hair. She hurt between her legs, hurt very badly. She looked at Colin and said calmly, “I'm afraid I don't feel very well.”

He was quick, she'd give him that. He picked her up and, without another word to anyone, carried her up a wide staircase, down a wide, very long corridor that was dark and smelled musty. It seemed to Sinjun that he'd marched a mile with her in his arms before he entered a huge bedchamber and put her down on the bed. He then started to pull up her riding skirts.

She batted at his hands, yelling, “No!”

“Joan, let me see the damage. For heaven's sake, I'm your husband. I've already seen everything you have to offer.”

“Go away. I'm not very fond of you at the moment, Colin. Please, just go away.”

“As you will. Shall I have some hot water sent up?”

“Yes, thank you. Go away.”

He did. Not ten minutes later a young girl peeked in the room. “My name's Emma,” she announced. “I've brung yer water, m'lady.”

“Thank you, Emma.” She excused the maid as quickly as she could.

She was indeed a mess, her flesh raw and very sore from all the riding she'd done today. She cleaned herself up, then crawled into the bed, staying close to the edge. She felt out of place, she felt fury at Colin for his excruciatingly important omission. She was a stepmother to two children who, it appeared, couldn't bear the sight of her. To her relief, she'd fallen asleep quickly and deeply.

But now she was awake. She would have to get up. She would have to face Colin, his aunt, his
sister-in-law who wasn't anymore, and the two children, his children. She didn't want to. She wondered what Colin had said to everyone. Certainly not the truth. Now they would believe her a weakling, an English weakling. She was on the point of getting out of the bed when the door opened and a small face appeared.

It was Dahling.

“Y
OU
'
RE AWAKE
.”

“Yes, I am,” Sinjun said, turning to see Dahling peering into the room. “I was about to get up and get dressed.”

“Why did you get undressed? Papa wouldn't tell us what was wrong with you.”

“I was just tired. It was a long trip from London. Your papa wanted to get home quickly to you and Philip. Is there something you wanted?”

Dahling sidled into the room. Sinjun saw that she was wearing a heavy woolen gown that was too short for her, and stout boots that looked too small and very scuffed. Surely the child must be uncomfortable in such clothing.

“I wanted to see if you were as ugly as I thought.”

Precocious little devil, Sinjun thought, reminded of Amy, one of Ryder's children, a little girl who was an imp and brazen as a brass gong, hiding, Ryder knew, a fear that was deep, very deep. “Well then, come closer. You must be fair, you know. Yes, climb up here on the bed and sit really close to me. Fairness is very important in life.”

When the little girl reached the dais, Sinjun reached down and lifted her beneath her arms and up onto the bed. “There, now make a study of me.”

“You talk all funny, like Aunt Arleth. She's always yelling at Philip and me not to speak like everyone else does, except Papa.”

“You speak very well,” Sinjun said, holding very still, for the little girl was now running her hands over her face. Her fingers lightly touched the red mark on her cheek. “What is this?”

“I was hurt when your father and I were in Edinburgh. A flying rock. It's nothing, and the mark should go away soon.”

“You're not too ugly, but just a little bit ugly.”

“Thank you for relieving me of such a major curse and leaving me with just a minor one. You're not ugly, either.”

“Me?
Ugly?
I'm a Great Beauty, just like my mama. Everyone says so.”

“Oh? Let me see.” Sinjun then did exactly what Dahling had done to her. She ran her fingers over the little girl's face, pausing here and there, saying nothing.

Dahling began to fidget. “I
am
a Great Beauty. If I'm not now, I will be when I'm grown up.”

“You also have the look of your father. He's very handsome, so that's all right. You have his eyes. Beautiful dark blue eyes he has, and so do you. Mine are also beautiful, don't you think so? They're called Sherbrooke blue. That's my family name.”

Dahling chewed on her bottom lip. “I suppose so,” she said at last. “But that doesn't mean you're not still a little bit ugly.”

“You have your father's dark hair. That's also nice. Don't you like my hair? It's called Sherbrooke chestnut.”

“Maybe it's all right. It's very curly. Mine isn't. Aunt Arleth just shakes her head and says I must bear with it.”

“But you're still a Great Beauty?”

“Oh yes, Papa told me so,” Dahling said with complete conviction.

“You believe everything your papa tells you?”

The little girl cocked her head to one side. “He's my pa. He loves me, but sometimes he doesn't see me or Philip, now that he's the laird of the Kinross clan. It's a very important job. He's very important and everybody needs him. He doesn't have much time for
bairns
—children.”

“You don't have your father's nose. Yours is turned up on the end. Is that like your mother's?”

“I don't know. I'll ask Aunt Serena. She's Mama's younger sister. She takes care of me when the governesses all leave, but she doesn't like to. She'd rather be out picking flowers and wearing flowing gowns like a girl waiting for a prince to come.”

• Sinjun felt a sinking at that artless news. “Governesses? You and Philip have had more than one?”

“Oh yes, we never like them, you see. They're all English—like you—and ugly, and we make them leave. That, or they didn't like Mama, and she'd make them leave. Mama didn't like other ladies around.”

“I see,” Sinjun said, but didn't. “How many governesses have you had since your mama went to heaven?”

The little girl said very proudly, “Two. But mind you, it's only been seven months. We can make you leave, too, if we want.”

“You think so, do you? No, don't answer that. Now, my dear, I must attire myself for dinner. Should you like to help me, or would you like me to help you?”

Dahling frowned. “What's wrong with me?”

“Do you dine in the nursery or with the family?”

“Papa decides. He decides everything now that he's laird. Aunt Arleth doesn't like it. I've seen her eyes turn red sometimes she's so angry at him. Papa says that sometimes we're the very devil and he doesn't want us around when he's eating his soup.”

“Well, why don't you dine with us this evening, to celebrate my being here. Do you have another gown?”

“I don't like you and I don't want to celebrate. You're not my mama. I'll tell Philip that we'll make you leave.”

“Do you have another gown?”

“Aye, but not new. It's short, just like this one. Papa says we don't have any groats for fripteries—”

“Fripperies.”

“Yes, that's it. Aunt Arleth says I grow too fast and Papa mustn't waste his groats on me. She says she's not surprised that we're poor, since he should never have been the laird in the first place.”

“Hmmm. Your papa now has sufficient groats for new dresses. We'll ask him.”

“They're your groats. I heard Cousin MacDuff talking to Aunt Arleth about how you were a great heiress and that's why Papa married you. She sniffed and said it was proper that he had sacrificed himself. She said it was the first decent thing he'd done in his life.”

Good grief, Sinjun thought, momentarily stunned. Aunt Arleth sounded like a thoroughly nasty old bird. She said, calmly enough, even with a smile hovering, “That's right. The poor boy is very noble and pragmatic. So you shouldn't want to send me away, because I'm here for a higher purpose than your governesses.”

“Aunt Serena said that Papa had your money
now and that maybe you'd go to heaven, like my mama.”

“Dahling! Shut your mouth!”

Colin strode into the bedchamber, his eyes on the little girl, who was gazing at him with adoration and now some perturbation, because he hadn't sounded pleased with her. Sinjun stared at him. He looked stern and forbidding, striding into the room, the laird, the master, the earl, and he looked harassed.

“She was just giving me the family news, Colin,” Sinjun said mildly. “Surely you want me to know what Aunt Arleth and Aunt Serena think of me. I have also decided that you're right and Dahling just might be a Great Beauty. Lord knows she's precocious. But she does need some new gowns. More than enough reason, don't you think, that I accompany you back to Edinburgh?”

“No. Dahling, go to your aunt Serena. You'll be dining with us at the big table tonight. Go now.”

Dahling scooted off the bed, looked back at Sinjun, shook her head, and skipped from the room.

“What was she telling you?”

“Just children talk, Colin, about everything and about nothing. As I told you, I quite like children and I'm with them a lot, what with my three nephews and all of Ryder's Beloved Ones. Why the devil didn't you tell me about them?”

She saw then that Colin could be just like Douglas and Ryder and Tysen. She supposed that it was a trait all men shared. When they were clearly in the wrong, or when a topic wasn't to their liking or made them uncomfortable, why then, they simply ignored it. He said now, “What did she say?”

However, living with three brothers had taught her perseverance. “Why didn't you tell me?”

He raked his fingers through his black hair, making it stand on end. “Damnation, Joan, it doesn't matter now.”

Sinjun leaned back against the pillows, pulling the covers over her more securely. “I can see your point of view, Colin. Actually, I can see it quite clearly. You were afraid I wouldn't want you for a husband if you'd told me I'd be the proud stepmother of two children who chase away every governess that you or your wife ever hired. Isn't that right?”

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know, dammit.”

“Are there any more little surprises you've got waiting for me? Perhaps a mistress in one of those castle towers, who has long golden hair and unrolls it out of the window to pull you up? How about a couple of illegitimate children wandering about? Or perhaps a mad uncle locked away in the Tudor section in a priest hole?”

“Do you have a gown to wear this evening?”

“Yes, but I'll need Emma to press it for me. I do have only one, Colin. Are there any more surprises?”

“I'll get Emma, and no, there aren't, except . . . how did you know about Great-uncle Maximilian? He is mad, true, and he does howl at the full moon every month, but who could have told you? Normally he's content to quote Rabbie Burns and drink gin.”

“I will assume you're jesting.”

“Yes, damn you, I am. But the children, that's different. They're just children, Joan, and they're smart little beasts, and they're mine. I hope you won't take them into dislike and abuse them just because you're angry at me for not telling you about them.”

“As in throw rocks at them?”

“I'm serious.”

“Perhaps, then, I can throw rocks at you?”

“If you're well enough to throw rocks, why then, you're well enough for me to take you again tonight.” He felt instant guilt, because she actually paled at his words. “Oh, stop it! I'm not a damned savage.”

“I'm relieved. How many governesses have Philip and Dahling enjoyed, say, in the past two years?”

“I don't know. Not more than three, maybe four. Fiona didn't like one of them, so the children weren't responsible. The last one was a fainting ninny and she had no guts.”

“No guts, huh? All right, please tell Emma to press my gown for me. I will have it for her when I have unpacked my valise.”

“She will do that for you.”

“No, I prefer to.”

“How do you feel?”

“Fine. There's no dressing screen in this room. I trust you will fetch one.”

“Why? You're my wife and I'm your husband.”

“It isn't proper for me to dress and undress in front of you. Besides, I will need assistance. Where is the countess's bedchamber?”

“Through that door,” he said, and pointed to a door that she could barely see because it was built into the wainscoting.

“Is that where your former wife slept?”

“Joan, what's wrong with you? It doesn't matter, none of it. She's dead. You're my wife and—”

“Since you have my groats, you can send me to heaven with Dahling's mama. You say that bullet in Edinburgh was intended for you. Perhaps it wasn't, Colin.”

He picked up a pillow and threw it at her. It hit her smack in the face.

“Don't you ever speak like that again, do you hear me? Damn you, you're my bloody countess!”

“All right. I was just angry with you and that's why I was nasty. Forgive me.”

“I will, this time. Kindly moderate your insults in the future, and stop carping at me. Now, you must hurry. Dinner is served in forty-five minutes. I'll get Emma.”

He left her without another word.

Well, Sinjun thought, smoothing her hand over the pillow he'd thrown at her, his reaction was interesting. Perhaps he did care for her a bit.

 

Cousin MacDuff was the first family member she encountered when she came downstairs. He was standing at the foot of the staircase, a brandy snifter in his hand, looking very pensive. He looked even more massive than she remembered. His violent red hair was pomaded down, and his clothes were quite natty, black britches, white linen, white silk stockings.

She was nearly upon him before he noticed her presence. “Joan! Hello and welcome to Vere Castle. Forgive me for not being here when you arrived.”

“Hello, MacDuff. Please call me Sinjun. Only Colin persists in this Joan business.”

“You'll bring him about, I daresay.”

“You think so, do you?”

“Yes. He told me about your reception in Edinburgh—your brothers being there and all.” He paused and looked upward at the minstrel's gallery, all in gloom now, frowning a bit. “I should like to have seen it. It sounds like you had quite a bit of fun. Did Angus really shoot a hole in the drawing room ceiling?”

“A very big hole. It made everything quite black and smelly.”

“I'm always on the short end of adventures. It doesn't seem fair, since I'm so big, does it? I could champion any number of lovely young ladies just by frowning at the opponents. They would scatter to the winds, I daresay, were I to wave one of my gigantic fists at them. Colin also told me about the shot.” He paused and studied her face, touching the mark with his blunt, large fingers. “There won't be a scar, thank the good Lord. Don't worry, Colin will bring the culprit to justice. What do you think of your new home?”