The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

“Oh

yes, we all have. You will notice the draperies, Colin. They are new but I copied the same fabric. Can you believe the warehouse in Dundee still carried the same fabric? It’s a pattern from nearly fifty years ago! Is it not wonderful?”

“I liked the draperies as they were.”

“Oh? You mean you liked dust and years upon years of grime dripping onto the floor?”

“Those carpets look odd.”

“Assuredly so. They are clean. They no longer send up clouds of dust when you walk across them.”

He opened his mouth but she forestalled him, raising her hand. “Let me guess—you preferred them as they were.”

“Yes. As I said, you have been busy, have done things I did not approve.”

“Should I perchance have lazed about on a chaise, reading novels that you don’t have in that moth-eaten chamber you call a library, eating broonies?”

He realized they were standing three feet apart, but he made no move to close the distance. He was in the right and he had to make her understand, make her apologize. “You should have waited for me. I specifically asked you to make your lists for my review and then we—”

“Papa, she is cruel and nasty to Philip and me! She even made me stay in my room one morning and it was a lovely day.”

“Even my children, Joan?” Colin looked down at his daughter. “Go to Dulcie. I wish to speak to your stepmother.”

“We don’t want her here! You will tell her not to beat us anymore?”

Sinjun stared at the little girl, then gave a shout of laughter. “That is really quite good, Dahling. A front shot of the cannon. Quite good.”

“Go, Dahling. I will see to Joan. Ah, Aunt Arleth, you are here, too? Please leave now and close the door. I’m speaking to my wife.”

“You will tell her to stop ruining everything, will you not, Colin? After all, ’tis you who are the laird, the husband, and the lord, not this girl here. It isn’t she who is in charge at Vere Castle, it is you. You will see that she—”

“Send her to a convent!” Dahling yelled, then disappeared from the doorway.

Arleth merely nodded and took her leave. She closed the door behind her very softly. They were alone in the middle of the beautifully clean and scrubbed Kinross drawing room. Even the battered old furniture had a fine patina to it, but Sinjun wasn’t paying any attention to all her accomplishments at the moment. All her attention was on her husband. Surely he wouldn’t believe Dahling’s dramatic performance, surely . . .

“Did you strike my children?”

She stared at him, and he was beautiful and her pulse speeded up just at the mere sight of him, but now he seemed a stranger, a beautiful stranger, and she wanted to hit him.

“Did you, Joan?”

It was absurd, ridiculous. She had to stop it and stop it now. She quickly walked to him, laced her fingers behind his neck, and rose to her tiptoes. “I missed you dreadfully,” she said, and kissed him. His lips were firm and warm. He didn’t open his mouth.

He grasped her arms in his hands and drew them down. “I have been gone for nearly three weeks. I came back only to see you, to assure myself that you were safe, that the damned MacPhersons hadn’t tried anything. I couldn’t find that damned Robbie MacPherson in Edinburgh. He’s avoiding me, curse his coward’s hide. Of course, I would have been told if something had happened, but I wanted to come myself and see for myself. You are quite the queen of the castle, aren’t you? You have made yourself quickly in charge and done whatever it was you wished to do. You had no care for my opinions. You ignored my wishes. You ignored me.”

She felt his words wash over her. She wasn’t used to words that hurt so very much. She looked at him now and said simply, “I have done what I believed best.”

“You are too young, then, to be trusted to know.”

“It’s absurd and you know it, Colin. Ah, here is Serena, doubtless here to kiss you again. Do you wish to continue your sermon with Serena present? I can call the children and Aunt Arleth again if you like. Perhaps they can harmonize in a chorus, singing of my sins to you. No? Very well then, if you wish, you may come to your tower room. You might as well relieve yourself of all your bile now.”

She turned on her heel and strode away, just like a young man, he thought, his jaw tightening, almost no female sway to those hips of hers, yet he knew the feel of her, and his hands fisted at his sides. He followed her, saying, “It would have been nice had you made an effort to befriend my children. I see they still think you’re an interloper. I see that you dislike them as much as they dislike you.”

She didn’t turn about to face him, merely said over her shoulder, “Louder, Colin. Children tend to behave in the ways of their parents, you know.”

He shut his mouth. He kept on her heels all the way to the north tower. He could smell the beeswax and the lemon here and knew that she’d had the gall to do as she pleased to his room—the only room that was truly his and only his—as well as to the rest of the castle. He speeded up. When he saw the repaired tower stairs, he said, “I didn’t wish to have them repaired in this way. What the devil have you done?”

She was three steps above him when she turned. “Oh, what would you have authorized, Colin? Perhaps you wished to have the stairs placed diagonally? Or perhaps skipping every other stair, with a dungeon below for those who were not careful walkers?”