The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

Sinjun knew such terror she very nearly screamed. But the scream stuck in her throat. There was now a flicker of a light coming from the far corner of the bedchamber. Just a flicker of very white light, almost like smoke, because it was thin and vague, too. She stared at that light and knew such fear she nearly swallowed her own tongue.

The moans came again, and suddenly the chain slapped hard against something or someone. There was a cry, as if it were indeed a person the chain had struck.

Oh Jesus, she thought. She co

uldn’t just sit here trembling like a twit. She didn’t want to, but she forced herself to slither off the bed. She fumbled to find the matches. They’d slid somewhere and she couldn’t find them. She was on her hands and knees when the moan came again, sharp and loud and filled with pain.

She paused. Then, still on her hands and knees, she crawled toward the end of the dais. She kept close to the floor. When she reached the end of the dais, she peered about the edge. There in the far corner the light burned more brightly. And the look of it was so very strange, so floaty and vague, yet so white.

Suddenly there was a horrible scream. Sinjun nearly leaped to her feet to run from the bedchamber. The hair lifted off her neck. She was shaking with cold terror.

Just as suddenly, the light was gone. The corner of the room was perfectly black again. There were no more moans.

She waited, so cold now she was shaking from that and not fear. She waited and waited, nerves stretched to the limit.

Nothing. No more scratching, nothing more.

Slowly, Sinjun reached up and pulled the covers down to the floor. She wrapped herself in them and curled against the dais. Finally she fell asleep.

It was Mrs. Seton who found her the next morning. Sinjun cocked open an eye to see the lady standing over her, saying over and over, “Oh, och! Ye’re hurt, my lady! Oh, och!”

Sinjun was sore and all stiff from her hours on the hard floor, but she wasn’t hurt. “Mrs. Seton, ah, please help me up. Yes, thank you. I had this dream, you see, a hideous nightmare actually, and it frightened me so I curled up down here.”

Mrs. Seton merely arched one of those tremendously thick black brows at her and assisted her to her feet.

“I’ll be fine now. If Emma could fetch some water for a bath, I’ll be downstairs soon.”

Mrs. Seton nodded and walked toward the door of the bedchamber, only to draw up short and stare at the floor. “Och, what is this, pray?”

It was the far corner of the bedchamber.

“What is what?” Sinjun’s voice sounded creaky and harsh.

“This,” Mrs. Seton said, pointing to the floor. “It looks like some sort of ooze from the Cowal Swamp, all black and smelly and thick. Och, there are even wee lumps of—” Her voice broke off and she stepped back. “My mither always said it takes a lang spoon tae sup wi’ the devil.”

Mrs. Seton, who normally spoke the loveliest English, had fallen into a very thick Scottish brogue.

She got hold of herself in short order, however, and said thoughtfully, “However did it get here? Goodness, the swamp isn’t all that close to Vere Castle.” She gave Sinjun an odd look, then shrugged. “No matter. I’ll send someone to clean up the mess.”

Sinjun didn’t want to see the mess up close, but she did. It was disgusting, as if something or someone had ladled out some of the filth onto the floor—that . . . or dragged it in, perhaps with a chain.

It was really quite well done of them, she thought as she stepped into her bath. Really quite well done.

CHAPTER

11

SINJUN MADE HER way around four local men yelling at one another in a language that wasn’t at all English. They’d lowered the huge chandelier, replaced the dangerously rusted chain, and were now cleaning off the years of filth before the women began to wash all the crystal.

She spoke to them, smiled, and continued on her way to the smaller dining room, which was called the Laird’s Inbetween Room. She drew to a halt to see Aunt Arleth berating a serving woman who was on her hands and knees in the massive Tudor entrance hall, scrubbing the marble squares.

“I won’t have it, Annie! Get up and get out of here!”

“What is the problem?” Sinjun asked calmly.

Aunt Arleth whirled on her. “I don’t approve of this, any of it, my girl. Now look what she’s doing! Those squares have been as they were for years upon years.”

“Yes, and so filthy, poor Annie must have pads on her knees she’s been scrubbing so long.”