The Scottish Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 6)

It had to be dealt with, now.

“That will be quite enough, Mrs. Griffin,” Tysen said. Then he looked over at Mary Rose as he spoke and nearly lost what little control that remained. She was crying, tears streaking down her pale cheeks, not making a sound, just tears and more tears. The cruelty, so much cruelty she’d endured, mean words that cut deep, and they’d finally cut so deep she couldn’t hide her pain. He’d thought that the careless cruelty simply didn’t touch her, but it did. He wanted to kill Mrs. Griffin, and after her, Mrs. MacFardle.

Rage made him feel hot, strong, and vicious. He was ready to go into battle. He was ready to kill. He strode to stand right in front of Mrs. Griffin. “I want you gone from Kildrummy Castle in five minutes. No longer. You are a malicious, nasty old woman. You and that nonentity of a husband of yours are despicable. I wish never to see either of you again. You are no longer welcome at Kildrummy. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

Mrs. Griffin, her face scarlet with fury, leapt to her feet, but Tysen very calmly continued, “Get out of my house, both of you. Now. This time, if you dare to return, I will have you thrown out. No—I will do it myself.”

He heard Mrs. MacFardle give a shriek. She was late with the tea tray, he realized, at least five minutes late. A clean sweep, then. He turned to see her trying to hold the tray and commiserate at the same time with Mrs. Griffin. He said, “Mrs. MacFardle, you will leave Kildrummy Castle. Perhaps Mrs. Griffin would like you to accompany her back to Edinburgh. I believe she needs a companion, a scullion, a maid, and a valet. You could, I doubt not, fill each and every one of those roles for her. Perhaps she will even pay you a pittance to buy some gewgaws.”

He heard a sound from Pouder, but when he looked over at the old man, his chin was still on his chest.

Once the drawing room was empty of Mrs. Griffin and Mrs. MacFardle, he closed and locked the door. He went to Mary Rose, who was looking up at him, sniffing, rubbing her hands over her eyes. He was still shuddering from the ferocious rage that had come from the deepest part of him. “I’m so very sorry, Mary Rose. I should never have allowed that miserable old witch to continue her vicious tirade for as long as I did. I should never have allowed her to remain when she dared to come back here again.

“Oh, my dear, please forgive me. I was blind, quite blind. But it won’t happen again. Also, Mrs. MacFardle will be leaving. She and Mrs. Griffin belong together.”

He sat down beside her, simply because he couldn’t stand that awful pain he saw in her eyes. “Mary Rose,” he said, and pulled her onto his lap. He rocked her, then just held her, his cheek against

the top of her head. “It will be all right now. I’ll take care of you. There will be no more cruelty, no more spite. Trust me, all right?”

She said nothing, just lay limply against him. They sat quietly for a very long time. Tysen didn’t know how long they’d remained together until he heard Meggie’s voice and her light knock on the drawing room door.

He leaned back, looking down into Mary Rose’s face. She looked beaten down, defeated, and he hated it. But no more pity. He’d never found that to be good for anyone. He kissed the tip of her nose. “Do you know where we can find someone to cook dinner for us?”

18

Id imperfectum manet dum confectum erit.

It ain’t over ’til it’s over.

MARY ROSE HEARD the whisper of sound so very close, nearly in her ear. It was a man’s voice, soft and low, telling her something, but what? Then she jerked awake, realized it wasn’t a dream, and opened her mouth to yell. A fist slammed into her jaw, and she fell back against the pillow.

Erickson smoothed the hair off her face and just looked down at her for a moment in the dim light of the one candle. He had to do this, there was simply no choice. He cursed under his breath as he pulled the covers off her. She was wearing that damned vicar’s nightshirt. It didn’t take him even a moment to realize that she would also shortly be wearing the damned vicar’s dressing gown as well.

Once he’d wrapped her in the dressing gown he hauled her over his shoulder, then walked quickly to the bedchamber door, cracked it open, and looked out. Nothing. No one. It wasn’t all that dark, since several of the bedchamber doors were open and bright moonlight poured through the windows and out through the open doors. He didn’t need a candle.

All he had to do was get her back down to the library, out the door that was covered with draperies, and into the garden. Then it was easy, just through that narrow ivy-covered gate and to his horse, tied a good hundred feet from the castle. Everything was going splendidly. He had known immediately that it was an excellent plan. It was a pity that he’d had to tap her on the jaw to keep her from yelling, but it wasn’t much, after all, and surely she would forgive him. A new bride, perforce, had to forgive her husband. He wondered for a moment if his mother had ever forgiven his father anything. No, that was impossible. He firmly believed that his father had died to escape his mother.

It was just past midnight, and everything was quiet. Erickson paused a moment, listening. He thought about his mother telling him at dinner the previous evening how simply everyone in the area now knew that the new Lord Barthwick—a vicar!—had kicked out not only the Griffins but also poor Mrs. MacFardle, who had surely worked there longer than anyone could remember. Erickson remembered that he’d always hated Mrs. MacFardle, the old witch, for the way she’d treated Mary Rose. He frowned as he thought about that. Actually, she’d been a witch to most everyone, particularly the children. He felt Mary Rose’s limp weight over his shoulder, felt her bouncy hair touch his face. No, he refused to feel guilt about what he was doing. He had no choice.

One step at a time. He was very quiet. Mary Rose didn’t weigh much, so that didn’t bother him. Then, with no warning at all, he heard giggling. Good Lord, giggling? From the room just down the hall.

There was obviously a woman in that room, and she was awake and giggling. Only one thing that could be about. Then he heard a man shout, not loud, then laugh, and another damned giggle. He heard bare feet running across a wooden floor. He stood, frozen, in the middle of the corridor, waiting, wondering what to do, when a door flew back and a woman, dressed in a flowing white nightgown, ran out of the room, still giggling, looking over her shoulder at the man who was running after her. The man who came out of the bedchamber was naked. For an instant, Erickson thought it was the vicar, and he was chasing a woman. But it wasn’t. It must be the vicar’s sister and her husband. They were the only ones left in the castle that the vicar hadn’t kicked out. But what were they doing, running around out here in the corridor? For God’s sake, wasn’t there a bed in that bedchamber?

Suddenly the woman eased back into the shadows and stood still as a statue. She wasn’t more than ten feet away from him.

The naked husband ran beyond where she was standing silent and still, then pulled up sharp, held a candle high, and looked right into Erickson’s eyes.

It wasn’t fair, dammit, just not fair. Erickson cursed, ripe, full-bodied curses. Damnation, his was an excellent plan, and it had gone perfectly until he’d had the rotten luck to have an amorous couple want to play in the corridor.

“She’s mine, damn you!” He was so furious, so frustrated, that he yelled right in Colin’s face, “I’m taking her!”

For a moment, Colin couldn’t believe his eyes. “My God, you puking little bastard, you’ve got Mary Rose. Sinjun, come quickly!”

Erickson saw the flash of a white nightgown, saw the man hand her the candle. Erickson didn’t wait. He turned on his heel and ran down the long corridor as fast as he could with Mary Rose bouncing up and down on his shoulder, the naked man nearly on his heels.

Then Mary Rose groaned, reared up, and shouted, “No, Erickson! This is madness! Let me down, you fool!” She stiffened right up, knocking him off balance. She grabbed his hair and kept pulling even as she leaned as far back as she could.

“Damn you, Mary Rose, stop it! Trust me. We’re leaving this place, together.”