The Scottish Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 6)

19

THE FOLLOWING MORNING at the breakfast table, Miles MacNeily told everyone about his adventure escorting Erickson MacPhail back home, there to be dealt with by his fond mother. “He didn’t even have a chance to explain,” Miles said. “She started yelling at him from an upper window. If I hadn’t wanted to pound him into the ground some more, I would have felt sorry for him.” Miles shook his head and looked at his eggs, which had been cooked so long they looked like clumps of yellow rocks. “The woman’s a terror. I heard her call him an idiot, loose-mouthed, a rotten seed of her womb. I left as quickly as I could. It’s strange. Erickson has the reputation of being very strong, very determined. But, evidently not with his mother.” He eyed the eggs again and forked down a bite, choked, and grabbed for a glass of water.

Mary Rose winced as she watched him. No one else had as yet touched the eggs. She said, “I’m sorry, Miles. I’ve never made eggs before. I suppose that I did fry them a bit too long.”

“Perhaps just the slightest bit, Mary Rose. Don’t worry about it. You tried,?

? Miles said, but he smiled at her, and it was a very sweet smile, Tysen saw. He felt something vaguely like jealousy rolling around in his gut, and it shocked him. Shocked him so much he just stared down at his dirty boots. Miles MacNeily was old enough to be her father.

Tysen said finally, “Miles is right. Don’t worry about the eggs. We are all grateful.”

Sinjun said suddenly, “I didn’t know you were in the kitchen, Mary Rose. Are you certain you feel well enough to be up and working like this?”

“I feel fine, Sinjun.”

“Nonetheless, until we can find a cook, I will see to the meals. Colin, please assure everyone that I am a splendid cook.”

Colin choked on his coffee. It really wasn’t his wife’s claim that bowed him over, but rather the rancid odor and taste of the coffee. He couldn’t seem to stop coughing until Meggie smacked him hard on the back.

Once Colin was upright again, a glass of water in his hand, his eye on that coffee in his cup, Meggie said, “I heard Pouder talking to MacNee about a new cook. Pouder said Mrs. Golden from the village needs money to take care of her grandchildren. He was of the opinion that she would be ready to come to Kildrummy today, so you don’t have to cook us any meals, Aunt Sinjun. He also said that she would make a splendid housekeeper as well.”

There was a moment of stunned, very grateful silence before Tysen said, “Meggie, despite all the arguments you put up to me, despite all your endless complaining, I was right to force you to come with me to Kildrummy Castle. You have been of invaluable assistance to me, and I thank you.”

Meggie didn’t even blink. “Thank you, Papa. I live to serve you.”

The table shook with all the laughter. As for Meggie, she sat back, her arms folded across her chest, the little queen who had brought down the house.

Three hours later Mrs. Golden was happily humming and baking bread in the Kildrummy kitchen. The smells floated through the castle.

But there was no more laughter.

Tysen, standing on the top steps of the castle, was yelling at the top of his lungs. “You will not leave, Mary Rose! Where did that carriage come from? You will remain here and you will marry me. I don’t want you to free me. I have kissed you—perhaps even more than kissed you, at least in my imagination. You have been compromised. You have seen my bare chest, hugged me. You have breathed against my bare shoulder. That’s beyond being compromised. Now, come back into the castle this minute or it will be the worse for you.”

But Mary Rose kept walking to the waiting hired carriage, carrying a valise that Miles MacNeily had reluctantly loaned to her.

“Oh, Papa, no, she can’t do this,” Meggie said, coming to a skittering halt beside her father. “I had no idea what she was planning. It’s her honor, Papa, she said that it was choking her. I didn’t know what she meant then. Oh, goodness, I think Mr. MacNeily helped her, and that’s because Mary Rose talked him into it. I think he’s hiding because he doesn’t want you to thrash him like you did Erickson MacPhail. You can’t let her go, Papa. You have to stop her.”

Tysen wondered in that instant if the world hadn’t tipped onto its side and put him in danger of falling off. Here he was, standing on the top steps of the castle, his hands on his hips, his face red, and he was yelling like a madman. He could actually feel the hot blood roaring through his veins. This was utterly ridiculous.

Meggie was tugging at his hand. “Please, Papa, you have to stop her. Mary Rose means to do the right thing—it’s just that she sometimes doesn’t realize that what she believes is the right thing is stupid.”

“Yes, I will stop her, and yes, this is an incredibly stupid thing she’s doing.” He ran down the long, curving stairs into the inner courtyard. “You will stay put, Mary Rose!”

She was about to let the coachman assist her into the carriage when Tysen grabbed the man by his collar and simply flung him away, sending him skittering on his backside into the dirt. “Now, as for you—”

“Tysen, you shouldn’t be here. You were supposed to be in the village.”

“I was and now I’m back, thank the good Lord. Meggie is right, this is one of the stupidest things you’ve done to date, Mary Rose. Now come along.”

She kept pulling and tugging. “You must see reason here. It is good reason, solid reason. I can see it. It’s not stupid. Why can’t you see that it is the right thing to do? You don’t want me as your wife. I’m a bastard, you can’t change that. Your brother—the earl—would rip off his wig and stomp it into the ground in rage, if it were the last century and he wore one. No, you can’t have a bastard in your family, it would be a travesty, you—”

Tysen heard the geese, Willie leading the way, honking so loud he could no longer hear his own furious heartbeat. He heard Meggie yell, “Papa, I’ve got her valise. No, no, Willie, don’t nip at my arm. I’ll get bread for you, but you must be patient.”

He briefly saw Meggie from the corner of his eye tugging at Mary Rose’s valise, slowly pulling it back toward the castle, the geese stampeding madly after her.

“No more,” he said, looking down at Mary Rose. “No more.” He grabbed her and hauled her over his shoulder.

“Tysen, oh, goodness, this isn’t what a vicar should do. Put me down. This is ridiculous. I’m doing what is best. Listen to me. Mr. MacNeily went to a lot of trouble to get this carriage here for me—”