The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

Sinjun skipped up the front steps and opened the door. She stood aside to wave him into the entrance hall. It wasn’t the size of the Italian black-and-white marble entrance hall at Northcliffe, but it was of noble proportions nonetheless. White marble with pale blue veins stretched to the pale blue walls, most of them covered with paintings of past Sherbrookes.

Sinjun closed the door and looked around to see if Drinnen, the butler, or any of his minions were anywhere to be seen. There was no one. She turned back to Colin and gave him a brilliant smile and a very conspiratorial one, truth be told. He frowned. She took two steps and stopped, toe to toe with him.

“I’m glad you came in. Now you believe I’m who I said I am. That’s good, though the thought of being your mistress does interest me. The concept, you understand. Should you like to speak to my brother now?”

“I shouldn’t have come in. I’ve thought about it all the way back from the park, and it can’t be happening, not like this. I’m not used to having a girl chase me down like a fox in the hunt, it isn’t natural, it isn’t—”

Sinjun merely smiled up at him, put her arms around his neck, and brought him down to her mouth. “I’ll open my mouth but not so much this time. Is this right?”

It was more than right. Colin stared for a very brief instant at that soft, open mouth and pulled her tightly against him. He forgot that he was in the entrance hall of the Sherbrooke town house. He forgot that there must be servants about, abounding in hidden places. He forgot all about the Sherbrooke ancestors staring down on them.

He kissed her, his tongue lightly tracing over her lips, then slowly going into her mouth. It was wonderful, and he felt her lurch against him and knew that she felt wonder as well. He kissed her more deeply and she responded freely, fully, and he forgot everything. He hadn’t bedded a woman for a month, but he knew even so that this effect she had on him wasn’t usual. His hands swept down her back, touching her, learning the feel of her, and he cupped her buttocks, lifting her tightly against his belly.

She moaned softly into his mouth.

“My God! What the hell is going on here!”

Those words pierced through the fog in Colin’s brain at the same time he was literally dragged away from her, spun around, and struck with blinding ferocity in the jaw. He went down like a stone on the white marble. He grabbed his jaw, shook his head, and stared up at the man who looked ready to kill him.

“Douglas! Don’t you dare. This is Colin Kinross, and we’re going to be married!”

“Like hell you are! Did you see—No, dear God, a man who hasn’t even had the breeding to speak to me, and here he is making love to you in the entrance hall! His hands were on your damned butt. My God, Sinjun, how could you allow a man to do that? Go upstairs, young lady. Obey me. I will see to this bastard, and then I will see to you.”

Sinjun had never seen her brother so angry, but she really didn’t care if he swung from the chandelier in his rage. She calmly stepped in front of him even as he was ready to advance on Colin again. “Oh, no you don’t, Douglas. Just stop it. Colin can’t hit you back because he’s in your house, and it’s at my invitation. I won’t allow you to hit him again. It wouldn’t be honorable.”

“Like hell!” Douglas shouted.

Sinjun wasn’t aware that Colin was now standing behind her until he said, “He’s right, Joan. I shouldn’t have gotten so carried away, here, in his house. Forgive me. However, my lord, I can’t allow you to hit me again.”

Douglas was beside himself. “You have won yourself a beating for that, you damned bastard.”

He flung Sinjun aside and hurled himself at Colin. The two men grappled, pushing and pulling and grunting, fairly evenly matched. Sinjun heard one groan from a fist to someone’s stomach. It was enough. She heard a cry from Alex, who was now dashing down the stairs. The servants were gathering, wide-eyed, huddled beneath the stairs and in the doorway to the dining room.

“Stop it!”

Sinjun’s voice didn’t result in a truce. If anything, they went at it all the harder. She was furious, at her brother and at Colin. Men! Couldn’t they just talk things out? Why did they have to revert to being little boys? She yelled at Alex, “Just stay there, I’ll handle this. Oh my, yes, and with great pleasure.”

She pulled a long, stout walking stick from the rosewood stand in the corner next to the front door, lifted it, and struck Douglas hard on his shoulder. Then she brought it down equally hard on Colin’s right arm.

“That’s enough, you bloody fools!”

The two men fell apart from each other, panting. Douglas was holding his shoulder, Colin his right arm.

“How dare you, Sinjun!”

But Douglas didn’t wait for an answer, just growled and turned back to the man who’d had the damned gall to caress his little sister’s buttocks in the middle of the entrance hall. And to stick his tongue in her mouth, the damned bastard. In her mouth!

Sinjun just started swinging. Not hard, just enough to get their attention. She heard Alex yelling, “Just stop it, Douglas!” Then Alex struck her husband with her own walking stick hard against his back.

Just as suddenly, Douglas realized what he was doing. He stopped cold. There was his small wife and his flushed sister whirling walking sticks about like mad dervishes.

He drew a deep breath, looked over at the damned Scottish ravisher, and said, “They’ll kill us. We have to either go to a boxing saloon or put our fists in our pockets.”

Colin was looking at the tall young lady who had proposed marriage to him. She’d struck her brother to protect him. It was amazing. Now she had moved toward him so that she was standing between them, that walking stick held firmly in her strong hands. It was more than amazing. It was also humiliating.

“Fists in pockets, if you please, my lord,” Colin said.

“Good,” Sinjun said. “Alex, what do you think? Shall we put the sticks away or keep them just in case the gentlemen here lose their breeding and tempers again?”