The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

“I want you to feel better,” Douglas said to his wife. “I have quite a bit to say to you, madam.”

“Oh, stow it, Douglas,” Sinjun said, and immediately regretted opening her mouth, because her brother, frustrated because his wife was ill and thus immune from his displeasure for the moment, bent the full force of his anger on her. “So, little sister, you’ve been up to all sorts of nonsense again, haven’t you? I can see you’re well enough again for any sort of just deserts. I would personally enjoy taking your skirts up over your bottom, but you’ve a husband now and I must deny myself that pleasure. However, I must hope that he will do it. She is well enough now, isn’t she, Colin?”

Colin smiled. “Yes, she certainly is well enough now.”

“Good,” Douglas said, rubbing his hands together. “I hope he won’t suffer your pranks as I’ve had to over an interminable number of years.”

“I daresay I won’t suffer pranks at all.”

Sophie interrupted. “Listen, Douglas, I want to know how you and Ryder knew to come here. Sinjun said you’d be here Friday, but that’s just because she thinks you’re both gods.”

Alex moaned softly. Mrs. Seton reached in one of her large pockets and drew out a fat scone, wrapped in a napkin and bulging with raisins. “Try this, my lady, ’tis soft an’ easy for the belly. ’Twill make ye settle, ye’ll see.”

Sinjun was staring at Douglas. He looked uncomfortable; he was actually flushing. He rose and strode across the bedchamber and back again. He was clearly agitated.

But it was Alex who was eyeing him with dawning comprehension as she chewed on her scone. “It was the Virgin Bride! She came to you and told you where we were. What else did she tell you?”

“That’s utter nonsense!” Douglas shouted. “Nothing of the sort. That bloody damned ghost. She doesn’t exist—”

“Naturally not,” Sinjun said. “She’s been dead for centuries. It’s her ghost that hovers about.”

“Shut your mouth, Sinjun. I merely applied a few mental processes—very few were necessary, given you two—and quickly realized that you would go haring off to Scotland.”

Ryder was frowning at his brother. “You fetched me from Ascot. You told me we had to go get our wives, that they’d heard from Sinjun, and that she was ill and that there was trouble. I didn’t think to question you then. I thought Alex had left you a letter, but obviously she hadn’t. How did you know Sophie was involved? What’s going on here, Douglas?”

Douglas plowed his fingers through his hair, standing it on end. He looked clearly harassed, defensive, and wary. “I just got this feeling, that’s all. A simple feeling. We all have simple feelings from time to time, even you, Ryder. This bloody feeling came when I was sleeping in Alex’s bed because Mother had insisted on having my mattress restuffed and pounded, God knows why. I like flat goose feathers. I just felt them then, during the night, these simple feelings when I was thinking about Alex, that’s all. Simple feelings and simple deductions.”

Colin had moved to stand by the fireplace, leaning negligently against the mantel, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked utterly unmoved by all the carping and ghost talk. He even appeared mildly amused to Sinjun’s fond eye, at least she hoped he was amused. He’d be easier to deal with if he was amused. He said at last when there was a moment’s break, “The carpet wasn’t all that expensive. Don’t worry about it, Alex. I think Emma’s done an excellent job.”

Alex cocked an eye open. “Thank you, Colin. You’re very kind to a sick lady, unlike—”

“Don’t even think about saying it,” Douglas said. Mrs. Seton had left, albeit with a lagging step, and he had resumed his seat on the bed by his wife. “No, not a damned word. I am your husband and it is I who am kind to you, no other man, do you understand?”

Her eyes twinkled at him for the first time. “I understand. But Douglas, you must have seen the ghost and she told you where we’d gone.”

“No, dammit!”

“What I don’t understand,” Sophie interrupted, “is why the Virgin Bride would tell Douglas. Doesn’t she think we’re capable of dealing with the situation by ourselves?”

“Oh God,” Sinjun said. “Sophie!”

Sophie clapped her hand over her mouth, darting an agonized look at Colin.

“So,” Colin said, “there is a situation, not that I ever doubted it. It must involve MacPherson. I assume you took care of him once you’d gotten rid of me this morning. My dear wife, what have you done with him? Is he dead? Did the three of you draw lots to see who would kill him?”

“Never,” Alex said.

“I would have liked to kill him,” Sinjun said wistfully, “but I didn’t think you’d approve. You’re fond of his father. No, the bounder isn’t dead. You do understand, don’t you, Colin? I had to do something. I had to protect you. You’re my husband. He would have snuck up on you, stuck a knife in your back; he’s that sort of man. Or he would have sent some of his bullies, like he did in London when you got stabbed in the leg. He has no honor, no—”

Colin didn’t move a muscle, but Sinjun saw the tic by his right eye. He said with superb calm, “This is all quite interesting, don’t you agree, Douglas, Ryder? My wife, who is also your little sister, thinks I’m helpless as a motherless foal. She enjoys

unmanning me. She believes me feeble, a fool, unable to see to the truth of things, unable to protect myself when appropriate. What do you think I should do to her?”

He didn’t sound very amused now, Sinjun thought.

“You’re her husband,” Douglas said. “You will do whatever is necessary to keep her safe.”

“I should like to know,” Ryder said thoughtfully, disregarding Colin and Douglas and still clutching his wife’s upper arms, “how you three all got together.”