The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

He wasn’t cold, but then again he was rarely cold. But he knew that if he pulled her into his arms, he would make love to her, and he wouldn’t break his vow, particularly with her brothers here under his roof, flesh-and-blood reminders of his perfidy.

He leaned up and grabbed his bedrobe that he’d tossed at the foot of the bed. “Here, put this on. It will wrap around you twice and keep you very warm.”

“I am overcome with your generosity and reasonableness.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Certainly, my lord. Whatever you wish, whatever you demand, whatever you—”

He began snoring.

“I wonder why Douglas didn’t demand to see our marriage lines. That isn’t like him not to be thorough.”

“He just might, mightn’t he? Shall we wed tomorrow, whilst your brothers are visiting the Castle? It turns out Douglas has a friend who’s a major there, and he wants Ryder to meet him.”

“That would be just excellent,” Sinjun said. “Colin?”

“What now?”

“Would you just hold my hand?”

He did, and felt very warm fingers. So she was on the verge of freezing to death, was she? He imagined that his soon-to-be-wife would do just about anything to gain what she wanted. He would have to watch her carefully. “I hope you enjoy my dressing gown.”

“Oh yes, it’s soft and smells like you.”

He said nothing to that.

“Wearing it, I can fancy you’re touching me everywhere.”

At ten o’clock in the morning the following day, Colin and Sinjun were wed by a Presbyterian preacher who had been friends with Colin’s uncle Teddy—not his father, Colin explained to her, because his father had been all that was sinful and a rotter. Reverend MacCauley, an ancient relic, was blessed with more hair than any old man should have, but best of all, he was fast with his lines and pronouncements and dictums, the latter being the most important consideration. When they emerged as Lord and Lady Ashburnham, Sinjun gave a skipping little step. “ ’Tis done, at last. Now, shall I volunteer to show my brothers our marriage lines?”

“No. Stop, I want to kiss you.”

She became still as a stone. “Ah,” he said, gently taking her chin in the palm of his hand and raising her face. “You’re no longer hell-bent on being bedded, are you? It was all an act. But why?” He stiffened then, his fingers tightening a bit on her chin. “I see now. Even last night you were worried that Douglas and Ryder just might discover that we weren’t yet wed. You wanted to protect me, didn’t you? You wanted to get your dowry into my hands.”

“No,” she said. “Not entirely. I could look at you naked until I die. Even your feet are lovely.”

“You’re always taking me off-stride, Joan. I like it sometimes. Also, just being naked isn’t the same thing. What will you do when you’re lying on your back in bed naked and I’m standing over you, ready to come to you?”

“I don’t know. Close my eyes, I suppose. It sounds rather alarming, though, but not repellent, at least not with you.”

He grinned. “I should like to do something about this right this minute. At least within the next hour, at the most. But your brothers are here and I don’t think Douglas would take it kindly were I to throw you over my shoulder and haul you upstairs. Tonight then, Joan. Tonight.”

“Yes,” she said, and stood on her tiptoes, her lips slightly parted. He kissed her lightly, as he would an aunt, and released her.

Abbotsford Crescent was only a fifteen-minute walk from Reverend MacCauley’s residence. Colin had stopped Sinjun and was pointing out an old monument from James IV’s reign when suddenly, without warning, there was a pinging sound and a shard of rock shot up to strike Sinjun, slicing her cheek. She’d moved in front of Colin and bent over to look at those age-blurred words just a moment before. She jumped now with the shock of it, and slapped her hand to her face. “What was that?”

“Oh hell,” Colin shouted, and pushed her to the ground, covering her with his body. Passersby stared at them, hurrying their step, but one man ran over to them.

“A man shot at ye,” he said, spitting in the next instant in disgust. “I saw him, standing over there by the milliner’s shop, he was. Are ye all right, missis?”

Colin helped Sinjun to her feet. Her hand was pressed to her cheek and blood oozed between her fingers. He cursed.

“Ah, the lassie’s hurt. Come along to my house, ’tis just over there, on Clackbourn Street.”

“No, sir, thank you very much. We live just in Abbotsford Crescent.”

Sinjun stood there numb as a frozen toe, listening to them exchange names and addresses. Colin would come by and speak to the man later. Someone had shot at her. It was incredible. It was unbelievable. She still felt no pain in her face, but sh