The Scottish Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 6)

“Yes, Papa, I know. I was speaking metaphorically.?

?

Mary Rose stared over at Meggie. “How ever do you know that word?”

“Papa uses many metaphors in his sermons. Some people in the congregation come up to me after services and ask me what they mean. Now, isn’t that better? Your poor ankle, all swelled, and the colors are already coming. A very bright purple, I think.”

Sermons? Mary Rose didn’t understand any of this. Maybe she was hearing strange words because her ankle hurt so badly.

Tysen didn’t know how Meggie had done it, but Mary Rose was sitting back against several pillows, her foot on Meggie’s lap, her stocking magically off and folded neatly beside Meggie. Tysen stared at that small white foot, then cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t be here. I will see both of you later.”

“Papa, wait a moment. I believe Mary Rose should have a small glass of brandy. When I wrap her ankle, it will hurt.”

Tysen walked to the large dark mahogany sideboard and poured a bit of brandy into a snifter that he wiped clean on his sleeve.

He held out the glass to Mary Rose. She hesitated, drawing back a bit. “The last time I drank brandy I was fourteen and wanted to be wicked with my cousin, Donnatella. She was only ten, and yet she was the one who decided we would drink the brandy. I was so sick I wanted to die.”

“Just a few sips,” Tysen said. “I once tried brandy when I was a boy. My brothers, Douglas and Ryder, dared me to drink it, as I recall. Then they laughed themselves silly when I vomited on my mother’s rosebushes.”

“Papa, truly, you did that? Uncle Douglas and Uncle Ryder were that wicked?”

“We were boys, Meggie. It wasn’t edifying. You do not have to try it yourself. If Max and Leo try to taunt you into doing it, don’t. Please believe me, it is awful stuff.”

Meggie said thoughtfully, “Perhaps I shall taunt them into doing it.”

And in that way, watching the father and the daughter, Mary Rose drank enough brandy to warm her belly and ease her mind so when at last Meggie wrapped towels filled with small chunks of ice around her ankle, she turned white, but she didn’t cry out.

“You have magic hands,” Mary Rose said to her. “I feel much better already.”

Meggie looked up to see Mrs. MacFardle standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her bosom. “I shall ask Oglivie to drive you back to Vallance Manor, Mary Rose.”

“That would be fine, Mrs. MacFardle,” Mary Rose said. “I don’t believe I could walk there in a week.”

“First you will stay for luncheon,” Tysen said, walking around Mrs. MacFardle. “Then we will see.”

“Papa?”

“Yes, Meggie?”

“You will have to carry Mary Rose to the dining room.”

“Oh, yes, certainly. You’re right.”

“Oh, no, surely I can walk,” Mary Rose said, seeing him hesitate. He didn’t want to get near her. She tried to stand up.

Tysen shook his head, frowned, and leaned down to pick her up. Then he found that he was no longer frowning. Actually, he was smiling down at her.

He heard Mrs. MacFardle harrumph behind him. He wanted to tell her that he was being as careful as he could, but then he remembered how she had grabbed Mary Rose’s foot and pulled on it. He didn’t understand.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, not at all.”

Meggie followed behind her father to the dining room, where Mrs. MacFardle had laid out their luncheon. She was standing behind the laird’s chair, her arms crossed over her bosom, a pose she seemed to favor. She looked disapproving. Nothing new there. Maybe this time she was concerned about Mary Rose. Meggie wanted to assure her that her papa was a saintly man, that he wouldn’t dream of going beyond the line with any lady, particularly one who was hurt.

Tysen carefully eased Mary Rose down on a chair that Meggie held out, then slowly pushed it close to the table.

After he seated himself, he said grace. Meggie said matter-of-factly to Mary Rose, “Papa’s a vicar, you know. He is more properly known as Reverend Sherbrooke. He is an orator of renown, recognized far and wide for his scholarship. My brother Max, though, he reads Latin better than Papa.”