“Enough, children,” Aunt Arleth said, coming up to them. “Excuse them, er—”
“Oh, please call me Sinjun.”
“No, call her Joan.”
Serena looked from one to the other. It was at that moment that Sinjun wished with all her heart that she were standing on the cliffs next to Northcliffe Hall, looking out over the English channel, the sea wind ruffling her hair. She hurt between her legs, hurt very badly. She looked at Colin and said calmly, “I’m afraid I don’t feel very well.”
He was quick, she’d give him that. He picked her up and, without another word to anyone, carried her up a wide staircase, down a wide, very long corridor that was dark and smelled musty. It seemed to Sinjun that he’d marched a mile with her in his arms before he entered a huge bedchamber and put her down on the bed. He then started to pull up her riding skirts.
She batted at his hands, yelling, “No!”
“Joan, let me see the damage. For heaven’s sake, I’m your husband. I’ve already seen everything you have to offer.”
“Go away. I’m not very fond of you at the moment, Colin. Please, just go away.”
“As you will. Shall I have some hot water sent up?”
“Yes, thank you. Go away.”
He did. Not ten minutes later a young girl peeked in the room. “My name’s Emma,” she announced. “I’ve brung yer water, m’lady.”
“Thank you, Emma.” She excused the maid as quickly as she could.
She was indeed a mess, her flesh raw and very sore from all the riding she’d done today. She cleaned herself up, then crawled into the bed, staying close to the edge. She felt out of place, she felt fury at Colin for his excruciatingly important omission. She was a stepmother to two children who, it appeared, couldn’t bear the sight of her. To her relief, she’d fallen asleep quickly and deeply.
But now she was awake. She would have to get up. She would have to face Colin, his aunt, his sister-in-law who wasn’t anymore, and the two children, his children. She didn’t want to. She wondered what Colin had said to everyone. Certainly not the truth. Now they would believe her a weakling, an English weakling. She was on the point of getting out of the bed when the door opened and a small face appeared.
It was Dahling.
CHAPTER
9
“YOU’RE AWAKE.”
“Yes, I am,” Sinjun said, turning to see Dahling peering into the room. “I was about to get up and get dressed.”
“Why did you get undressed? Papa wouldn’t tell us what was wrong with you.”
“I was just tired. It was a long trip from London. Your papa wanted to get home quickly to you and Philip. Is there something you wanted?”
Dahling sidled into the room. Sinjun saw that she was wearing a heavy woolen gown that was too short for her, and stout boots that looked too small and very scuffed. Surely the child must be uncomfortable in such clothing.
“I wanted to see if you were as ugly as I thought.”
Precocious little devil, Sinjun thought, reminded of Amy, one of Ryder’s children, a little girl who was an imp and brazen as a brass gong, hiding, Ryder knew, a fear that was deep, very deep. “Well then, come closer. You must be fair, you know. Yes, climb up here on the bed and sit really close to me. Fairness is very important in life.”
When the little girl reached the dais, Sinjun reached down and lifted her beneath her arms and up onto the bed. “There, now make a study of me.”
“You talk all funny, like Aunt Arleth. She’s always yelling at Philip and me not to speak like everyone else does, except Papa.”
“You speak very well,” Sinjun said, holding very still, for the little girl was now running her hands over her face. Her fingers lightly touched the red mark on her cheek. “What is this?”
“I was hurt when your father and I were in Edinburgh. A flying rock. It’s nothing, and the mark should go away soon.”
“You’re not too ugly, but just a little bit ugly.”
“Thank you for relieving me of such a major curse and leaving me with just a minor one. You’re not ugly, either.”