The Scottish Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 6)

To Tysen’s utter surprise, he smacked her bottom. “You are going nowhere.” To his further utter surprise, his palm lay on her bottom for a good second longer than necessary to deliver the hit. He raised his hand as if scalded, then stared straight ahead, determination freezing his face, and walked back to the castle.

Still, she reared up, but it did her no good. She could kick, she could pound him with her fists, but because she didn’t want to take the chance of hurting him, she was, effectively, not going anywhere.

Mary Rose saw Meggie tugging with all her might at the valise, the geese honking louder and louder, Willie pecking at Meggie’s feet. Dust flew up and Mary Rose thought, I must plant trees and shrubs here. There is too much bare earth and black dirt. Then she shook her head, tried to relax as her stomach bounced up and down on Tysen’s shoulder.

The coachman picked himself up, brushed off his trousers, and stared after the man—a vicar!—who was carrying the lady over his shoulder, followed by a little girl dragging the dratted valise with geese nearly on her heels, making more racket than his own dear wife in her finest moments.

Miles MacNeily stood just inside the castle door, in the entrance hall. Pouder, standing next to him, looked mildly interested. When Tysen came through the door, Miles said, “I’m sorry, my lord, but Mary Rose, she is very special and she didn’t want you to feel responsible for—”

“Miles,” Tysen said, not looking toward his steward as he strode through the entrance hall, “you’re fired.”

“But, my lord, I’m already leaving, in but two weeks now.”

Meggie managed to pull the valise into the hallway. Willie was honking loudly outside on the steps. Pouder was waving his gnarly old hands at the goose, yelling, “Begone, ye miserable white-feathered sot! Ye’ll nae bite the lass’s heel!”

Willie’s beak came around the side of the wide front door. He honked, then retreated. Tysen couldn’t help it, he started laughing. The woman over his shoulder had tried to leave him, and yet he was laughing. He felt her belly on his shoulder, knew that if he pulled her just a bit closer, his face would be touching her hip. He was hugging her thighs. The feel of her, it made him shake.

What was happening to him?

He saw Meggie, his precious girl, pulling that ridiculous valise past Pouder, who was just staring down at her. Miles MacNeily leaned down and scooped it up.

He heard Meggie said, “Thank you, Mr. Miles. You shouldn’t have let Mary Rose talk you into that carriage. She is promised to my father, and I have already written to my brothers telling them that we will have a new mother.”

“Er, would you like

me to post your letter, Meggie?”

“Yes, sir, that would be very kind of you. Oh, goodness, Mary Rose, what is in that valise? It weighs more than I do.”

“I gave her my two prized candlesticks,” Miles said, “for her to pawn in Edinburgh. Since I haven’t yet come into my inheritance, I don’t have any money. Perhaps I should give them to your father as restitution.”

Meggie, a practical girl, who was racing after her father and Mary Rose, turned briefly and said, “I suppose it is the least you could do for your treachery.”

Where had Meggie learned that excellent word?

And then Tysen thought, two blasted candlesticks! It was too much. He felt laughter bubbling up again, and seamed his mouth together. He said, “I imagine that you needed the candlesticks to live on until your twenty-fifth birthday?”

Mary Rose nodded.

“I suppose you would have written to your mother for the name of the solicitor.”

She nodded again, not a word out of her mouth.

“And then you would have been up bright and early, ready to camp on the solicitor’s doorstep? Then once you had all your wealth, you would have brought your mother to Edinburgh?”

Another nod.

He walked toward the staircase, paused a moment, and called out over his shoulder—actually, over Mary Rose’s bottom—“You’re not fired, Miles, at least not for another two weeks.”

“Thank you, my lord. I’ll see to the coachman. I’ll take Mary Rose’s valise back to Meggie’s bedchamber.”

“I don’t want your candlesticks,” Tysen said, “just swear to me you’ll keep them hidden from Mary Rose.”

“Yes, I swear, my lord,” Miles said. “I can see now that this is for the best. I won’t listen to her again.”

Mary Rose called out, raising her head from Tysen’s back, “At least you listened to me once, sir.”

Tysen was again picturing Meggie yanking and jerking on that ridiculous valise. Actually, he thought as he walked into the drawing room, he knew what he wanted to do was to simply ease his arms up and splay his hands over Mary Rose’s bottom.