The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

“Fine. There’s no dressing screen in this room. I trust you will fetch one.”

“Why? You’re my wife and I’m your husband.”

“It isn’t proper for me to dress and undress in front of you. Besides, I will need assistance. Where is the countess’s bedchamber?”

“Through that door,” he said, and pointed to a door that she could barely see because it was built into the wainscoting.

“Is that where your former wife slept?”

“Joan, what’s wrong with you? It doesn’t matter, none of it. She’s dead. You’re my wife and—”

“Since you have my groats, you can send me to heaven with Dahling’s mama. You say that bullet in Edinburgh was intended for you. Perhaps it wasn’t, Colin.”

He picked up a pillow and threw it at her. It hit her smack in the face.

“Don’t you ever speak like that again, do you hear me? Damn you, you’re my bloody countess!”

“All right. I was just angry with you and that’s why I was nasty. Forgive me.”

“I will, this time. Kindly moderate your insults in the future, and stop carping at me. Now, you must hurry. Dinner is served in forty-five minutes. I’ll get Emma.”

He left her without another word.

Well, Sinjun thought, smoothing her hand over the pillow he’d thrown at her, his reaction was interesting. Perhaps he did care for her a bit.

Cousin MacDuff was the first family member she encountered when she came downstairs. He was standing at the foot of the staircase, a brandy snifter in his hand, looking very pensive. He looked even more massive than she remembered. His violent red hair was pomaded down, and his clothes were quite natty, black britches, white linen, white silk stockings.

She was nearly upon him before he noticed her presence. “Joan! Hello and welcome to Vere Castle. Forgive me for not being here when you arrived.”

“Hello, MacDuff. Please call me Sinjun. Only Colin persists in this Joan business.”

“You’ll bring him about, I daresay.”

“You think so, do you?”

“Yes. He told me about your reception in Edinburgh—your brothers being there and all.” He paused and looked upward at the minstrel’s gallery, all in gloom now, frowning a bit. “I should like to have seen it. It sounds like you had quite a bit of fun. Did Angus really shoot a hole in the drawing room ceiling?”

“A very big hole. It made everything quite black and smelly.”

“I’m always on the short end of adventures. It doesn’t seem fair, since I’m so big, does it? I could champion any number of lovely young ladies just by frowning at the opponents. They would scatter to the winds, I daresay, were I to wave one of my gigantic fists at them. Colin also told me about the shot.” He paused and studied her face, touching the mark with his blunt, large fingers. “There won’t be a scar, thank the good Lord. Don’t worry, Colin will bring the culprit to justice. What do you think of your new home?”

Sinjun looked at the dusty oak wainscoting, the dull and dirty stair railings that were so beautifully carved. “I think it’s magic. I also think a lot of dirty hands have touched the railings and a lot of other hands have been idle.”

“No one has done much of anything since Fiona and Colin’s brother died.”

“Including simple housekeeping?”

“So it would appear.” MacDuff looked around the large first floor. “You’re right. I hadn’t noticed. But you know, things have been like this since Colin’s mother died some five years ago. It’s good you’re here, Sinjun. You can see that all is brought back up to snuff.”

“Her name is Joan.”

“Your one refrain, Colin?” His voice was amiable. He shook his cousin’s hand, making Colin wince.

“Joan is her name.”

“Well, I prefer Sinjun. Now, let’s go into the drawing room, shall we? Doubtless your bride would like a sherry.”

“Yes, I would,” Sinjun said, and looked at her husband and swallowed. He was beautiful in black evening garb and pristine white linen. He was immaculate and so handsome she wanted to hurl herself into his arms. She wanted to kiss his mouth, his earlobe, the pulse in his neck.