The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

She turned then and smiled at her husband, not really much of a smile, but an honest effort at one. “I should like another cup of tea. Would you?”

“Yes, Joan, I believe I would.” He fell into step beside her. “I like your brothers.”

She was silent a moment, then said with desperate cheerfulness, “Yes, I rather do, too.”

“I know you will miss them. We’ll see them soon, I promise you.”

“Yes, you promise.”

He gave her a quick look but said nothing.

CHAPTER

8

THE DOCK ON the Firth of Forth was a nasty place, smelling of fish in all stages of rot, unwashed bodies of yelling stevedores, and other odors she couldn’t, thankfully, identify. It was filled with so many carts and drays and boats of every size in the water that it was difficult to see why they hadn’t all crashed into each other. In that moment, two drays did collide, tipping an oak barrel off the end of one of the drays. It bounced hard on the cobblestones and then rolled, picking up more speed, until it slammed into an iron railing, cracking wide open. Rich dark ale spilled out, filling the air with its pungent smell. Sinjun smiled and sniffed. She supposed the London docks were much the same, but she’d never been to see them. Colin took her elbow, saying nothing, and directed her to a ferry that looked to be on its last legs, had it been a horse. It was a long, narrow barge with unpainted

wooden railings, and its name was Forth Star, surely an ambitious title for such a scrawny boat. The horses were already on board, standing very close to the people, and not happy about it. The ferry was owned by an old man who had the foulest mouth Sinjun had ever heard. He cursed at the people, at the animals, at all the valises and trunks. He even yelled at the opposite bank of the Forth. Sinjun regretted that she could only understand just a bit of what he said. She did see Colin wince several times when the old man got bitten in the shoulder by a horse and yelled his displeasure to all within three miles.

When the ferry got under way, Sinjun watched with horrified eyes, knowing it had to run into other boats. One ship from Holland came within scraping distance. Another from Spain was so close the sailors were leaning over the sides with long poles to push any boat away that came too close. Nothing seemed to bother Colin—natural, she supposed, because he was, after all, a Scot, and none of this was new to him. Even the horses started blowing loudly in the salty clean air. Thank God it was a beautiful day, warm and balmy, the sun high in a cloud-strewn sky. As they neared the other side of the Forth, she saw that the Fife Peninsula seemed from here to look every bit as English as Sussex. The green was soft and pure and deep, and the hills were rolling and gentle. It was lovely, and Sinjun felt a stirring of enthusiasm. At that moment, the Forth Star hit another small barge. The two captains howled at each other, the horses whinnied, and the people shook their fists. Sinjun tried not to laugh as she yelled at the other captain herself.

The ferry crossed at the narrowest point, called the Queensferry Narrows, not a beautiful spot, for the water looked thick and dirty and swirled about the barge. Ah, but looking toward the east, to the North Sea, was beautiful.

Colin said unexpectedly, “At this point the Forth is a long tidal estuary. The river itself begins nearly all the way to the western sea. It’s a mighty river there, deep and so blue it makes you want to cry. Then it narrows and meanders over a flat peaty wilderness to Stirling.”

Sinjun breathed in deeply. She nodded at his offering, then turned back to lean her elbows on the railing. She was afraid of missing something. She also didn’t particularly wish to speak to her husband.

“If you turn about you can see the Castle. It is clear today and the view is rather spectacular.”

Sinjun obligingly turned and looked. “I thought it more mysterious, more ethereal perhaps, last evening, when it was shrouded halfway up in fog. Every once in a while you could hear the soldiers yelling and it seemed like ghost voices coming out of the gray mist. Wonderfully gothic.”

Colin grunted at that and turned back to look down at the swirling waters. “You will have to accustom yourself to the mists. Even in summer we can go weeks at a time without the sun. But it is warm and it stays light enough to read even at midnight.”

Sinjun brightened at that. “You have a well-stocked library, Colin, at Vere Castle?”

“The library is a mess, as is most everything else. My brother didn’t particularly care, and since his death I haven’t had time to see to things. You will have to go through it and see if there is anything that interests you. I also have a library of sorts in my tower room.”

“Perhaps you have some novels?” Her hopeful voice made him smile.

“Very few, I’m afraid,” he said. “Remember, you’re deep in Presbyterian country. Hellfire would surely await anyone so ill-advised as to read a novel. Try to imagine John Knox enjoying a Mrs. Radcliffe novel. It boggles the mind.”

“Well, hopefully Alex will send me all my books when she sends us our trunks.”

“If your brother didn’t order all our things burned first.”

“A possibility,” Sinjun said. “When Douglas is angry, he can do the most awesome things.”

Sinjun hoped the trunks would arrive soon. She was perilously close to having very little to wear. Even her blue riding habit, of which she was inordinately fond, was looking sadly distressed. She swiped the dust off her sleeve as she looked at her fellow passengers. Most were country people, dressed in rough homespun woolens of dull colors, and clogs and open leather vests. There was one aristocratic fellow with very high shirt points who looked a bit green from the swaying of the barge. There was another man who looked to be a prosperous merchant, who kept spitting over the side of the barge, his teeth as brown as his spittle. And the speech, it wasn’t English, even though Sinjun could understand most of it. It was filled with slurring and lilting sounds that were melodic and coarse all at the same time.

Sinjun didn’t say anything else to her husband. At least he was trying to be pleasant, as was she. But she didn’t want to be pleasant. She wanted to hit him. She looked at his profile, drawn to look at him really, because he was so beautiful. His black hair was blowing in the gentle breeze. His chin was up and his eyes were closed in that moment, as if he were reaffirming that he was a Scot and he was home. A sea gull flew perilously close, squawking in his face. He threw back his head and laughed deeply.

She wasn’t home. She stuck her chin up as high as his was. She breathed in the sea air, the nearly overpowering smell of fish and people and horses. She looked at the terns and the gulls and the oystercatchers. They were all putting on a grand show, hoping for scraps from the passengers.

“We will ride to Vere Castle today,” Colin said. “It will take us about three hours, no more. The sun is shining and thus it will be pleasant. Ah, do you think you will be able to do it?”

“Certainly. It’s strange you would ask. You know I’m an excellent rider.”

“Yes, but that was before. I mean, you’re not too sore, are you?”