The Scottish Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 6)

When Mary Rose pulled her old mare, Primrose, to a halt beside a rushing stream, she said, “This is one of my very favorite places. Would you like to rest for a moment?”

He left their horses loose. Big Fellow had no interest at all in Primrose, probably because she was a gnarly old mare with a mean eye, so there were no problems there. Tysen sat beside Mary Rose on the bank of the stream, the sound of the roaring water like a low, continuous drumbeat. He raised his voice a bit to be heard over it. “Your mother did not seem at all mad to me, Mary Rose.”

Mary Rose pulled up several water reeds and appeared to study them closely. “I believe now that she has chosen her madness, that she prefers it to dealing with what is real.” She shook her head, a spasm of regret, of hurt, in her eyes. “I realize, too, that her madness is a wonderful justification for saying exactly what she pleases.”

“I am sorry, but you are probably right.” A mother who wallowed in madness, leaving her child to fend for herself. Gweneth Fordyce was a beautiful woman, seemingly harmless, but he didn’t think that was true. He didn’t like the looks of her soul. She was selfish. She had locked herself away. No, she wasn’t mad, he was very certain of that. He said, “Why does she dislike Donnatella so very much?”

“Because Donnatella is the daughter of the house and I am The Embarrassment. Mama also heartily dislikes her own sister, Lady Margaret. Now you’re asking yourself why is it that we live at Vallance Manor if there is such discord.”

“Yes, but I don’t mean to pry if it distresses you.”

Mary Rose merely shrugged. “The truth of the matter is that we have no place else to go. I am a bastard. There is no money. My mother has never told a soul my father’s name. I look like her, so there are no physical clues.”

“Your father was probably married—not an uncommon occurrence. It is a pity, though, that he provided no support for your mother. I imagine also that he was local. There have been no clues of any sort?”

“I have thought of that, but Mama is of no help at all. She has always just given me a blank stare whenever I have inquired into it in the past. You’re right, of course. If he is still alive, his wife must be as well, else he would marry my mother, wouldn’t he?”

“One would hope so.”

“But who knows? It was twenty-five years ago, after all.” She paused a moment, looking out over that rushing water. She turned to him and said with a half smile, “Ah, Tysen, it is a strange life, is it not? And no matter how strange life becomes, we still must deal with it.”

“Yes,” he said, “we must.” He very much liked the sound of his name when she said it. That soft lilt lightly whispering against his flesh, warming him. That was ridiculous, like the ravings of a bad poet. Melodramatic enough for the likes of Lord Byron, the nincompoop.

“Your uncle has no idea who your father could be?”

She shook her head, sending a thick tress of red hair curling about her cheek. “No. If my uncle knew who my father was, then the whole of Scotland would know. My uncle isn’t discreet. I am sorry that my mother insulted you.”

“She did it with a good deal of heat and skill,” Tysen said, and picked his own water reed. It was slippery between his fingers, but smelled strangely sweet. “It is hard not to admire that. It did not hurt me, Mary Rose. Dinna fache yerself.”

She grinned at him. “That sounded very Scottish, my lord.”

“Aye, I am trying,” he said.

“How are you dealing with Mrs. Griffin?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Griffin, my one-day guests, insulted me until I had no choice but to order them to leave. Meggie, who should be thrashed, doubted they would obey me and thus she took it upon herself to get them out of Kildrummy Castle at the crack of dawn.”

“Goodness, how ever did she manage that?”

“She played a ghost and terrified the old besom.”

“I should like to hear all about that. Meggie seems very resourceful. Mrs. Griffin has been about Kildrummy Castle forever. Mr. Griffin, I have heard, was quite the rake in his younger years. Irresistible, he was, I’ve heard it said. But you see, it is now Mrs. Griffin who holds the reins of power. She has for as long as I remember. No one knows how it came about. Is his deference to her merely an act? I don’t know.” She paused and smiled. “She’s never paid me any attention at all, since I am a bastard. I wasn’t even invited to have tea with her. Just Donnatella was.”

“Mary Rose, do you want to marry Erickson MacPhail?”

She nearly slid into the stream, she jerked about so suddenly.

He grabbed her arm to steady her. “I’m sorry, but I had to ask you that. You see, your uncle believes you will come around once Erickson has the chance to really speak to you. Your uncle is certain Erickson can talk you into it.”

“I would sooner be sent to Botany Bay than marry him,” she said, that stubborn jaw locked, and he believed her.

She added, “He looks like such a charming young man, but he isn’t. Actually, he isn’t really a young man at all. He is nearly thirty.”

Suddenly Tysen saw a pain in her eyes that came from something that had happened long ago, perhaps an awful memory. He said, “What, Mary Rose? What are you seeing, remembering?”

She slowly turned to face him. “Once, about ten years ago, I saw him accost my mother.”

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