The Scottish Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 6)

Tysen didn’t remember the pounding fists, but he did remember the hysterics. He said, “I will not be here to enforce your punishment, Leo, but here it is. You will not stand on your head for six days. You will not do any flips down the corridors of Northcliffe Hall. You will not cut anything at all with your scissors. You will treat your sister like a royal princess. Do you understand me?”

Leo bowed his head. “Yes, Papa. I understand.”

Max looked perplexed for a moment, but the look was gone so quickly that Tysen wasn’t at all sure he’d even seen it. “You boys will obey your aunt and uncle. You will enjoy yourselves when it is allowed. You will not accept any gifts from young ladies who come to Northcliffe Hall to bestow them on your cousins or your aunt and uncle.” Then he hugged both of them and even patted Leo’s head.

He heard Leo say to Max as he closed the bedchamber door, “Papa didn’t say anything about me not standing on my head at night—he just said six days.”

“Leo,” Max said, “you will surely go to hell.”

“No, Papa wouldn’t allow that,” Leo said. “Why couldn’t Papa at least inherit a title that would make us lords? Surely there must be a dukedom lying about not being used. We’ll be just the same. Maybe Uncle Douglas has an extra title or two hidden away in some old book that he doesn’t need.”

“Uncle Douglas,” Max said in his lecturer’s voice that drove both Leo and Meggie right over the brink, “has only one extra title, and James has it. You know that. He’s a viscount—Lord Hammersmith—because Uncle Douglas is an earl and he doesn’t need it anymore. Well, no, actually, he’s also a baron of some sort. I don’t remember the name.”

Leo said, “Poor Jason. He’s nothing at all. He’s as bad off as we are.”

Tysen was smiling, he couldn’t help it, even though he knew he should give a token frown. He didn’t sleep well that night. He’d looked briefly into Meggie’s bedchamber, but all the lights were off and she was obviously asleep. He hated to disappoint her, but there wasn’t a place for a little girl on this trip. The good Lord only knew what awaited him in Scotland. He looked forward to seeing Sinjun and Colin and their children.

He left the following morning at dawn, his driver Rufus and a stable lad tiger as his to ride behind the carriage and pay all the tolls, both provided by his brother and both sharp at their positions. His own gelding, Big Blue, was tied to the back of the carriage under the watchful eye of the tiger, whose unlikely name, Rufus had told him, was Pride.

He didn’t realize that his tiger wasn’t really one of Douglas’s stable lads until they were in Edinburgh five and a half days later.

3

Taurum per cornua prehende.

Take the bull by the horns.

August 22, 1815

IT HAD BEEN a long journey. Tysen was riding Big Blue when at last they entered Edinburgh. He had written nine sermons in his head during those five and a half days, and he had to admit, in his more objective moments, that none of them was presentable enough for God’s hearing. They were, he thought, looking at the mighty castle soaring upward from its craggy ridge in the center of the city, rather—no, he didn’t want to say it. Oh, very well. Truth be told, they were boring. They nearly made him nod off to sleep. Talk of hell’s fires kept the congregation alert, but it never made him feel exalted when he was done, and thus he rarely threatened his flock with brimstone. But these nine sermons, they’d been bland, touching on this or that without much rhyme or reason to any of them. One of them did dwell perhaps overly much on the necessity for a woman’s obedience. He thought of Meggie and shook his head at that. Then he thought of Melinda Beatrice and felt guilty.

They had both been so very young, so very much in love with each other, and they saw only a life that was narrow, yet filled with hope and goodness and an endless desire to be of service to God. At least that was what he had wanted. He sighed.

Tysen heard a boy whistle and waved to him. He remembered Edinburgh, but now he saw it through a man’s eyes, not a child’s. The Castle, he thought, oh, how Meggie would have enjoyed the Castle. No, what he’d done was correct. For heaven’s sake, it had rained a full four days on the journey up here. Today, at least, it had ceased raining early in the morning. The sun now glistened overhead, and it was so clear he knew he would be able to see the smudged mountains on the horizon beyond the Lothian plain and the Firth of Forth if he were standing on the Castle ramparts. He clicked Big Blue around a crowd of people who looked to be surly for some reason, and waved his carriage behind him toward the road to New Town, north of the castle. Literally dredged from a malodorous swamp, New Town was a masterpiece, with all the magnificent gardens and squares surrounded by splendid Georgian buildings. He had no idea if Sinjun would be at their residence here in the city. Regardless, he knew Old Angus would let him spend the night. At the west end of George Street, they finally reached Charlotte Square. Another left turn, and they were in Abbotsford Crescent. Kinross House was located directly in the middle, opposite a small, very green park. It was a tall, skinny house, older than its neighbors, but it looked immaculate, flowers planted everywhere, the paint fresh, the shutters hanging straight and proud. There was a new slate roof, if he wasn’t mistaken. The rectangular lawn was freshly scythed, the walkway swept clean. Tysen was tired, but the sight of his sister’s lovely house made him smile.

Tysen remembered Meggie saying that her aunt Sinjun would have had roads built if needed. Well, she’d certainly made the Kinross town house a work of art. Its newer neighbors were lovely as well, but Kinross House had style—old style—and it was better. It was unique.

He hoped Old Angus was still in fu

ll possession of his wits and thus would recognize him and not shoot him with his blunderbuss—a very valuable weapon, Sinjun had said to him once, and laughed. To his utter surprise, he looked up at a shout from an upper window. Then Sinjun was sticking her head out and yelling down at him. “Tysen! Is it really you? Bloody hell, we just arrived yesterday. Dahling wanted to stroll down the Royal Mile and, well, I wanted to as well. Colin is up at the Castle, speaking to Lord Stallings. Dahling and Phillip are with him, doubtless roaming through all those drafty hallways, asking endless questions of all the poor soldiers. Oh, it is so wonderful to see you. Come in, oh, yes, do come in!”

Old Angus came out of the house, looking older than the Castle, his homespuns bagging at his knees, his white hair blown all over his head, and a big smile on his seamed face. “Och, ye be Master Tysen, her ladyship’s brother, nae doubt.”

“Aye,” Tysen said, savoring that lilting word on his tongue, and dismounted from Big Blue’s back.

“Well, now, ye hae yer man just come wi’ me and we’ll see to them nice horses ye got. Aye, who’s the little pullet riding up behind?”

“My tiger. His name is Pride.”

“Aye?”

Then Sinjun was there, throwing her arms around him, hugging him until he was kissing her hair and hugging her back, and then holding her loosely in his arms, he said, “You are looking quite fit, Sinjun. And it isn’t raining, thank the good Lord.”

“And you, Tysen, are as handsome as ever. Oh, goodness, I had no idea you were coming. And just look—why ever would you do this? It is surely the most unexpected thing you’ve ever done. But why is she riding on the back of your carriage? She looks fit to drop. What have you done? Oh, I see, she demanded to do it, and you allowed it. You spoil her, Tysen.”

It took Tysen only a moment of sorting his way through his sister’s words before he had the most awful foreboding. He turned slowly to stare at his tiger, Pride.

“Well, Meggie,” Sinjun said, “come down from there and give me a hug. I’m sure I will come to understand why you’ve become your father’s tiger. Was it a wager? No, naturally, your father never wagers. I’m not certain if that is because he believes wagering to be a sin or whether he believes he doesn’t have the Sherbrooke luck and doesn’t want to lose his fortune.”