The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

He laughed. It was a strong, deep laugh, a laugh of a man who knew his own worth and knew it to be above that of the girl who rode beside him. He was well again and strong of body and ready to take on the world—with her groats. “I look forward to your attempts. But be warned, Joan, Scottish men are masters in their own homes, and they beat their wives, just as your honorable and kind Englishmen occasionally do.”

“That is absurd! No man I know would ever raise a finger against his wife.”

“You have been protected. You will learn.” He started to tell her that he could easily lock her in a musty room in his castle, but he kept quiet. They weren’t yet married. He gave her a look, then a salute, and kicked his horse in its sides to gallop ahead of her.

They arrived at the Kinross house on Abbotsford Crescent at three o’clock the following afternoon. It had been drizzling lightly for the past hour, but Sinjun was too excited to be bothered about the trickles of water down her neck. They’d ridden the Royal Mile, as fine as Bond Street, Sinjun gawking all the way at the fine gentlemen and ladies who looked just as they did in London, and at all the equally fine shops. Then they turned off to the left onto Abbotsford Crescent. Kinross House was in the middle of the crescent, a tall, skinny house of red aged brick, quite lovely really, with its three chimney stacks and its gray slate roof. There were small windows, each leaded, and she guessed the house to be at least two hundred years old. “It’s beautiful, Colin,” she said as she slipped off her mare’s back. “Is there a stable for our horses?”

They cared for their own mounts, then paid the driver and removed their trunks and valises. Sinjun couldn’t stop talking she was so excited. She kept tossing her head toward the castle that stood atop its hill, exclaiming that she’d seen paintings of it, but to actually see it all shrouded in gray mist, the power of it, how substantial and lasting it was, left her nearly speechless. And Colin only smiled at her, amused at her enthusiasm, for he was tired, the rain was dismal—something he’d grown up with, and the castle, indeed, was a fortress to be reckoned with, but it was just there, brooding over the city, and who really thought about it?

The door was opened by Angus, an old retainer who had been a servant to the Kinross family his entire life. “My lord,” he said. “Dear me and dear all of us. Oh Gawd. Aye, the young lassie is wi’ ye, I see. More’s the pity, aye, sech a pity.”

Colin grew very still. He was afraid to know, but he asked nonetheless, “How do you know about my young lassie, Angus?”

“Och, dear and begorra,” said Angus, pulling on the long straight strands of white hair that fell on each side of his round face.

“I hope you don’t mind that I invited myself in. Your man here didn’t want to let me over the threshold, but I insisted,” Douglas said as he came up behind Angus. He was smiling through his teeth. “You damned bastard, do come in. As for you, Sinjun, you will feel the flat of my hand soon enough.”

Sinjun looked at her furious brother and smiled. It was difficult, but she managed it, for she wasn’t at all surprised to see him. Ah, but Colin was, she saw. She’d warned him, damn his stubborn hide. She stepped forward. “Hello, Douglas, do forgive me for giving you such a worry but I was afraid you would be intractable. You have that tendency, you know. Welcome to our home. Yes, Douglas, I’m a married lady, married in all ways, I might add, so you can forget any notions about annulment. I would appreciate your not trying to kill him, for I’m too young to be a widow.”

“Blessed hell! The damned devil you say!” And there was her brother Ryder, standing at Douglas’s elbow, and he looked fit to kill, flushed to his eyebrows, unlike Douglas, who never stirred when his anger was deep and burning, just remained cold-stone still and yelled. “Is this the fortune-hunting bastard who stole you from Douglas?”

“Yes, that’s him,” Douglas said through still-gritted teeth. “Blessed hell, your husband! Damn you, Sinjun, there’s been no time. Ryder and I have ridden like the very devil. You’re lying, Sinjun, tell me you’re lying, and we will leave right now, right this instant, and return to London.”

Colin stepped into his own house and raised his hands. “Be quiet, all of you! Joan, step aside. If your brothers want to kill me, they will, regardless of your trying to protect me by flapping your petticoats at them. Angus, go see to some refreshment. My wife is thirsty, as am I. Gentlemen, either kill me now or come into the drawing room.”

This all seemed very familiar, and Sinjun was forced to smile. “There are no umbrella stands about,” she said, but Douglas wasn’t to be drawn. He was stiff and cold and looked severe as an executioner.

“Ryder, this is my husband, Colin Kinross. As you can see, he shouts as loudly as you and Douglas do, and he looks a bit like Douglas, only he’s more handsome, much wittier, and of a more reasonable nature.”

“Bosh!”

“How do you know, Ryder? This is the first time you’ve ever met him. Colin, this is my brother Ryder.”

“It’s certainly going to be interesting,” Colin said.

Ryder studied him closely, all the while yelling, “I can tell by the look of him that he’s none of those things. He’s about as reasonable as Douglas here, no more, certainly. Damnation, Sinjun, you’ve been a perfect idiot, my girl. Let me tell you—”

“Go into the drawing room, Ryder. You can tell me all you wish to there.” Sinjun turned to Colin and raised a brow.

“This way,” he said, and led them across the narrow entrance hall, which smelled musty and clogged the nostrils with dust, through a single door into a room that could kindly be called elegantly shabby.

“Oh dear,” Sinjun said, eyeing the room. “It’s proportions are quite nice, Colin, but we must get a new carpet, new draperies—goodness, those must be eighty years old! And just look at those chairs—the fabric is rotting right off them.”

“Be quiet!”

“Oh, Douglas, I’m sorry. You aren’t interested in all my housewifely plans, are you? Please sit down. As I said, welcome to my new home. Colin tells me the house is all of two hundred years old.”

Douglas looked at Colin. “Are you well yet?”

“Yes.”

“You swear you’re fully and completely healed and back to your strength?”

“Yes.”

“Good, damn you!” Douglas leaped on him, his hands going for his throat. Colin, no fool, was ready for him. They went down to the floor, dust billowing up from the faded carpet, and rolled, Douglas on top, then Colin, each kicking the other with his legs, each rolling the other over.

Sinjun looked at Ryder, whose lovely blue eyes were narrowed and filled with fury. “We must stop this. It happened before. It would