The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

“I am Robert MacPherson.”

“I suspected as much.”

“Did you now? Well, that does make it easier, doesn’t it? What has the bastard said about me?”

Sinjun shook her head. “Did you try to kill Colin in London?”

She saw that he hadn’t; the surprise was too sharp in his eyes, his hands tightened too quickly and roughly on his stallion’s reins. So it had evidently been a coincidence after all. He laughed as he flicked a fly from his stallion’s neck. “Perhaps. I try to take advantage of opportunities when they present themselves.”

“Why would you wish to kill Colin?”

“He’s a murdering sod. He killed my sister. Broke her neck and threw her off a cliff. Isn’t that an excellent reason?”

“Do you have proof of your accusation?”

He drew his stallion closer to the mare. The mare flung back her head, nervous, her eyes rolling at the stallion’s scent.

“No closer, if you please.” Sinjun calmed Fanny, crooning to her, ignoring Robert MacPherson.

“I don’t understand why you aren’t frightened of me. I now have you in my power. I can do as I please with you. Perhaps I will ravish you until your womb takes my seed. Perhaps you will bear a child and it will be mine.”

She cocked her head to one side, studying him. “You sound like a very bad actor in an inferior play in Drury Lane. It is curious, I think.”

Robert MacPherson was nonplussed. “What is curious, damn you?”

Sinjun’s look was remote. “I had pictured you otherwise. Don’t you find that is so often the case? You thought I would be a hag, but I’m not. I had thought you would look something like Colin, or perhaps MacDuff—you must know MacDuff, don’t you?—but you don’t. You are . . .” She stopped. Pretty wasn’t a particularly politic thing for her to say. Nor was graceful or elegant or quite lovely, really.

“I am what?”

“You seem quite nice—a gentleman, despite your vicious words.”

“I’m not at all nice.”

“Did your sister resemble you?”

“Fiona? No, she was dark as a gypsy, but beautiful, aye, she was more beautiful than a sinner’s dream, blue eyes the color of the loch in winter, and hair so black it was like the devil’s own midnight. Why? You are jealous of a ghost?”

“I don’t think so. But I am curious. You see, Aunt Arleth—that’s Miss MacGregor—she says that Fiona fell in love with Malcolm and betrayed Colin, and that’s why Colin killed her. I find that odd, since Colin is the most perfect man in the world. What woman could conceivably want another man, if he were her husband? Do you think it’s possible?”

“Perfect man! He’s a bastard, a murdering bastard! Damn you, Fiona loved only her bloody husband. She wanted only him from the time she was fifteen years old, no other, certainly not Malcolm, although he did want her. Our father pushed for Malcolm, since he would be the laird after his father’s death, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She nearly starved herself until our father gave in. She got Colin, but she wasn’t happy for very long. All I remember now was that she was always accusing Colin of infidelity, she was so jealous of him. He couldn’t look at another woman without Fiona shrieking at him, trying to claw his eyes out. He grew bored with her and her insane jealousy, even I understand that, but he had no right to rid himself of her. He had no right to hurl her over that damned cliff. And to claim that he had no memory of it. Absurd.”

“This is all quite confusing, Mr. MacPherson. No one tells the same story. Also, I don’t understand how Fiona could have possibly believed Colin to be unfaithful. He would never break his vows.”

“What nonsense! Of course he broke his vows. He slept with women far and wide. Fiona was once filled with laughter and charm. Men couldn’t keep their wits about them when she was near, and it pleased Colin’s pride to have it so, but only at first. Her jealousy extended even to the servants at Vere Castle. That’s when he bedded other women, to punish Fiona. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t also sleep with her. She would tell me how he’d take her in a frenzy, his need was so great for her. She was a witch, Fiona was, a jealous witch. Even while he despised her, he was filled with lust and desire for her. And she for him, more’s the pity. But she’s dead now, dead because he was tired of her and he found it expedient to kill her.

“I have had to wait for retribution because my father believed Colin innocent of the crime. But now he’s an old man with an old man’s failing wits. He still refuses to take action. His man tells me he sits and drools and dreams aloud of long-ago nights with his men, raiding the lowlands or fighting the Kinrosses. Ah, but it doesn’t matter now, at least to me. I do as I please. Soon I will be laird.

“I’ve been watching Vere Castle for several days now. I know Colin is waiting for me in Edinburgh, waiting to confront me, perhaps even to try to kill me as he killed my sister. But I decided on another course. I came back here. At last you have come out alone. You will now come with me.”

“Why?”

“You will be my prisoner, and thus Colin will be at my mercy. I will at last see justice done.”

“I cannot tell you how difficult it is to take you seriously when you quote such atrocious lines.”

He snarled with fury and raised his fist.

“I don’t think so,” Sinjun said, and quick as a streak of lightning, she slashed his face with her riding crop.