The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

Alex, frowning ferociously, didn’t answer. She dropped the stick and sent her fist into her husband’s belly. Douglas, too surprised to do anything but grunt, looked at his wife, then over at Sinjun, and sighed. “All right, fists in pockets.”

“Civilization is not a bad thing,” Sinjun said. “To cement the truce, we’ll have some tea. But first, Colin, you must come with me for a moment. There is blood on your lip. I will clean it off for you.”

Alex said, “And you’re a mess, Douglas. Your knuckles are raw and you’ve ripped your shirt, the one I made especially for you on your birthday. But you didn’t think of that, did you, when you dove headfirst into these absurd fisticuffs? Oh goodness, there’s some of Colin’s blood on the collar. I doubt even Mrs. Jarvis’s best potions will get that out. Sinjun, we will all meet in ten minutes in the drawing room.” She looked around, saw Drinnen standing there looking drawn and white, and said calmly, “If you please, disperse the staff, Drinnen. And bring tea and scones to the drawing room. His lordship here is Scottish and doubtless will be very critical. Be certain the scones are up to snuff.”

And it was done. By two women. Colin followed Joan Sherbrooke without a word. From the corner of his eye, he saw the earl likewise trailing in the wake of his very small wife, that lady’s shoulders back, her chin high as a general’s.

Colin Kinross, seventh earl of Ashburnham, felt as if he’d been trapped in a bizarre dream. It wasn’t a nightmare, but it was beyond passing strange. He looked at the mass of loose brownish-blond hair that streamed down her back, pulled loose of pins during their skirmish. He didn’t know what had happened to her riding hat. Thick hair, quite lovely really. She was toothsome, no doubt about that, and kissing her had been more enjoyable than anything he could remember.

But this interference, he couldn’t tolerate it. The fight was between two men. Ladies had no say. No, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, tolerate such interference from her again.

CHAPTER

3

“ENOUGH OF THIS, Joan. I will not be led around like a damned goat.”

Sinjun turned at the irritated voice of the man she had decided irrevocably she would marry and smiled. She patted his arm. “I myself don’t like to be led around, either, particularly in a strange house. I don’t mean that the house is strange, just that it is unknown to you. Walk beside me, then we’ll both be leading.”

“It has nothing to do with the strangeness of the damned house. Or my strangeness or anyone else’s strangeness.” But nonetheless, he fell into step beside her, feeling like an idiot.

She led him into the nether regions of the large hou

se, down a passageway and through a door into a huge kitchen that was cozy and warm and smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg and sweet bread baking in old stone ovens. He sniffed scones and his mouth watered. He’d been too long from home. “Sit down here at the table, my lord.”

He gave her a very irritated look. “For God’s sake, with all that’s happened in less than twenty-four hours, I think you can call me Colin.”

She gave him a dazzling smile. If he hadn’t felt so irritated he might have grabbed her and kissed her again. As it was, he just sat in that damned wooden chair like a docile dog and let her dab a damp cloth against his mouth. It burned like the devil but he kept still.

“I would have preferred to take you to my bedchamber,” Sinjun said, pausing a moment to view her handiwork, “but Douglas would probably have immediately canceled the truce. He is, at times, unaccountable.”

He grunted.

“As it is, you get to meet Cook, Mrs. Potter by name, and she makes the best scones you will ever eat in England. Dear Mrs. Potter, this is Lord Ashburnham.”

Colin nodded to the immense woman all garbed in white, including her apron, holding a long-handled bread paddle. She gave him a suspicious stare. He stared at the paddle and the meaty hand holding it.

“Who was that small woman?”

“Douglas’s wife, Alexandra. She loves him dearly and would give her life for him.”

Colin grew very still. An odd concept that, and he wasn’t certain he could even begin to believe it. He reached up his hand and grabbed her wrist, drawing it down. He pulled slightly and soon she was leaning down to him, not three inches from his face. “Do you believe in such loyalty?”

“Yes.”

“You struck your brother, true, but then you turned and struck me harder.”

“I did try to be fair, but in the heat of battle, so to speak, it’s difficult to mete out an exact equality of blows.”

He had to smile, which he did.

“If you don’t release me, I think Mrs. Potter is going to hit you with the bread paddle.”

He let her go. She finished patting the cut on his lip. “Hot tea will burn a bit, but it will taste good, too. Now, onward to the drawing room. You must deal with Douglas, since he is the head of the Sherbrooke family.”

I don’t believe this is happening to me, Colin thought as he strode beside the tall girl with her coltish walk and her tumbled hair. She began to whistle, just like a boy. He started, then just shook his head. He said aloud, “This really isn’t what I expected. I didn’t know you existed until last night, and now here I am in your house and your brother attacked me and I’ve even been in your kitchen.”

“Douglas firmly believed you deserved it. He didn’t know you then. All he saw was this very handsome man holding me up with his hands.”