The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

Ryder and Douglas backed off. They didn’t want to, but they had no choice. Both left the bedchamber cursing.

Colin said nothing. He simply held her tightly against him, watching the door close finally.

“I should have locked the damned door,” he said, filled with disgust for himself. “That will teach me to be more careful when my wife has two brothers who love her so much they’d kill anyone who broke her fingernail.”

“They would have broken the door down. It would have made no difference. And you broke more than a fingernail.”

“Why, she speaks,” he said. “How grand. A bride who bursts into tears one minute and speaks calm as a clam the next.” He shoved her away from him. Her eyes were wet with tears, but none had spilled over. It didn’t slow him though. He grabbed her shoulders, squeezing tight, and shook her. “I will tell you this once, Joan, and I don’t expect to have to repeat myself. This is my house. You are my wife. Damn you, I am a man, not some sort of sniveling hound for you to protect by shoving me behind your damned skirts. Do you understand me, madam?”

She tried to pull free of him, but he held on tightly. She wanted to strike him herself, hard. She snarled like an animal at him, “Blessed hell, they would have killed you! They would have bashed you to the floor. And if you would open your eyes, you would notice that a skirt isn’t what I’m wearing.”

“Don’t you dare try to distract me. You will never again jump in front of me. Do you understand me, madam? For God’s sake, there could be real danger, possibly, and you could be hurt. This is Scotland, a land vastly different from that gentleman’s paradise to the south. There is always the chance of violence here. I won’t tolerate your foolish behavior, ever again. Do you understand me?”

“You’re not a sniveling hound, you’re a bloody stupid fool! You’re raging about like a bull, Colin, and it’s absurd! I merely pretended to cry, just to stop them, and it did. Whatever was wrong with that?”

“Enough!” He slammed his palm against his forehead. “It is too much, dammit! Get into bed, Joan, you’re shivering.”

“No, I shan’t. You’ll do those horrible things to me again. I don’t like it, Colin. I don’t want you to do that again. I don’t trust you.”

He could only stand there, in the middle of the dim bedchamber, with its too-dark walls, shabby furnishings, frayed draperies. And here was his bride telling him he wasn’t to bed her again. It was enough. It was too much. And she’d had the gall to interfere again between him and her brothers. He was enraged. He was quite beyond logical and calm thought. He was on her in an instant, ripping the covers off her. He picked her up and threw her on the bed.

“Stay there!”

He untwisted the covers and tossed them over her. “Get yourself warm.”

“You won’t stick yourself in me again, Colin, I shan’t allow it. It was horrible and you won’t do it. Damn you, get away from me!”

It sent him right over the edge. First her brothers and now her, giving him orders, and she was his wife, and it was time to begin as he meant to go along. He felt himself hardening, and it was enough. He slammed down on top of her. He immediately clapped his hand over her mouth, then shoved her legs apart. She fought him in earnest this time, but it didn’t help. He was between her legs, spreading them wider until he was satisfied, and then he came into her, slower this time, and since she was slick with his seed and with herself, he moved quickly to seal himself deep inside her. When he moved, it didn’t hurt quite so much, but enough, because her flesh was raw. This time she didn’t cry out. The last thing she wanted was for her brothers to burst into their bedchamber again, for he still hadn’t locked the door. She suffered him, closing her eyes, her hands at her sides now, fisted. She turned her face away, pressing it against the mattress, and lay still. He wasn’t violent with her, nor was he at all rough. He moved deep then eased out, once, twice, three times, and yet again. It didn’t last long. He tried to kiss her, but she kept her head turned to the side. She heard his breathing quicken, felt his body pulse and shudder with his exertions. When he released his seed, he groaned deep in his throat. When it was over, he didn’t fall on her as he’d done before. He pulled out of her immediately. She nearly cried out. She felt raw, so bruised by him she wondered if she would be able to walk. She knew he was standing beside the bed, looking at her, but she didn’t care. What did it matter that her legs were sprawled? That she was naked and lying there? It didn’t matter now, nothing did. If he wished, he could take her again, and there was naught she could do about it. Let him look. She didn’t care. He said nothing; she could still hear his breathing, harsh and fast.

“I’m all sticky and I want to bathe.”

He stilled himself. Jesus, he could just imagine how wet and sticky she was. He’d spilled his seed in her three times. He sighed, drawing on his control, dampening his guilt, willing his anger at the absurd situation to quiescence. “Just lie still. I’ll get you some water and a cloth.”

Sinjun didn’t move. She closed her eyes. This was her wedding night and it was a shambles, painful and embarrassing, and then Douglas’s and Ryder’s bursting in. She turned her back to Colin and pulled her legs to her chest. She wished she were the Sinjun she’d been just a month before. Everything had been simple and straightforward to that Sinjun; that Sinjun knew about fun and humor and had dreamed about love. She had looked upon Colin and seen her dream come true. Ah, and what a dream it was to this Sinjun: a mess, a girl who didn’t know a blessed thing. Everything had gone awry.

She cried, for the first time in three years.

Colin stood by the bed. He felt like the damned rutting bastard Douglas had accused him of being. He felt helpless. Her sobs weren’t delicate and feminine, they were hoarse and ugly and immensely real.

“Well, hell,” he said, climbed into the bed, and cupped his body around hers. Her tears lessened. She began to hiccup. He kissed the back of her neck.

She stiffened. “Please, Colin, don’t hurt me again. Surely I don’t deserve any more of your punishment.”

He closed his eyes against her words, words she meant, no doubt about that. And it was his fault, because he’d been too rough with her, had moved too quickly, good Lord, he’d taken her three times, and that third time hadn’t been well done of him. The second time was not all that well done, either, but at least that second time was perfectly understandable. But he had punished her with the third, pure and simple. No, he’d not behaved as he should have. “I won’t come inside you again,” he said. “Besides I can’t. I have no more seed to spill in you. Go to sleep.”

Surprisingly, Sinjun closed her eyes and did just that. She slept long and deep. It was Colin who woke her up the next morning as he turned her on her back. She shivered at the sudden cool air on her skin and opened her eyes. He was standing over her, holding a damp cloth.

“Hold still and let me bathe you.”

“Oh no.” She jerked away from him, rolling over until she was on the far side of the mammoth bed. “No, Colin, I will see to myself. Please, go away now.”

He stood there, frowning at her, holding the cloth in his outstretched hand, feeling like a fool. “Very well,” he said at last. He tossed the cloth to her, hearing it slap against her wrist. “Angus is bringing up buckets of hot water for your bath. Get it done quickly, for I, too, wish to bathe, and you don’t seem at all interested in sharing the tub with me, more’s the pity, though I am now your husband, something you wanted more than anything, if you would be honest with yourself, marriage and my man’s body, but not in that order, not at first.”

“You’re angry,” she said as she pulled the covers to her nose. She was utterly confused. “This is very odd, Colin, since it is you who hurt me. How can you dare be angry?”

“I’m angry at this damnable situation.” There was a knock on the door. “Don’t move,” he said over his shoulder. “Keep yourself wrapped in the covers.”

It was Angus, not her brothers brandishing swords, and he was