The Scottish Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 6)

Colin came through the front door, windblown, wearing only black knit breeches and a flowing white shirt, and grinned at the two of them. “Good morning. I trust both of you are quite well?”

Mary Rose said, “Oh, yes, Colin. Everything is quite excellent.” She blushed, turned nearly as red as her hair. Tysen, without thought, leaned over and kissed her cheek. He thought she looked luminous, the morning light stark on her face, her green eyes bright, her mouth laughing. He was a married man, he realized at that instant, and she was his wife, and he decided he was quite pleased about it.

He had become Lord Barthwick, come to Scotland, and gotten himself a bride. God’s plan was as yet unclear to him, but given that Mary Rose was now his, it had to be a good plan.

“Hmmm,” said Colin, and after eyeing the two of them a bit longer, he turned and gave his wife a wicked look. “I am not at all surprised,” he remarked to the entrance hall at large, which included Pouder, napping in his chair by the front door. “After all, Tysen is a Sherbrooke.”

“Be quiet, Colin,” Tysen said pleasantly as he took the letter from Sinjun and began to read it. “You’re embarrassing my wife.” How strange it was

to say that word aloud. He continued reading, then raised his head and said, “Douglas is rather irritated with me, but he says it won’t last because Oliver is so excited about learning the management of Kildrummy Castle, and thus what can Douglas do? Oliver is on his way to Scotland. He should be here quite soon. Douglas said he was so eager that he was throwing his clothes into his valise so he could be gone. He says also that I am now in his debt.”

That very afternoon, Oliver arrived, all his luggage with him, a big smile on his face, and an enthusiastic yell at the sight of Kildrummy Castle.

“Oh, Reverend Tysen,” Oliver said, pumping his hand up and down. “It is more than I deserve. Oh, my, now you’re Lord Barthwick. You’re my lord now. And you are Mr. MacNeily, sir? You will assist me, sir? You will not leave until I know enough not to bankrupt this beautiful place?”

“I will not leave,” Miles MacNeily said, laughing as he looked closely at this very young man, “until I am convinced that you will raise Kildrummy Castle and its lands and tenants to new heights.”

When Oliver met Mary Rose, Reverend Sherbrooke’s bride, he simply stopped cold and stared at her.

“Oliver,” Tysen asked, “are you all right?”

“It’s that you’re married, sir—my lord—and I simply hadn’t ever thought of you with a woman, that is, she is your wife and—”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Oliver,” Mary Rose said, and shook the young man’s hand.

“It is time,” Tysen said to Mary Rose. She knew it was, and yet she was afraid, afraid of what she would learn.

Mr. MacCray had left earlier, Colin and Sinjun were riding, Meggie was helping Pouder arrange Tysen’s cravats in his bedchamber, Mrs. Golden was preparing their dinner, the new maid was washing their clothes, and Oliver and Miles MacNeily were ensconced in the library, surrounded with ledgers.

“I asked your mother to meet with us,” he said. He paused, then added, squeezing her hand, “She knows it is time that you’re told, Mary Rose.”

To their surprise, Miles MacNeily was not with Oliver in the library. He was with Gweneth Fordyce in the drawing room. He rose slowly when Tysen and Mary Rose came into the room.

Tysen didn’t say a word, just stood quietly, waiting.

Mary Rose looked from her mother to Miles MacNeily and said, “Sir, are you my father?”

He smiled at her and said, “I wish that I were, my dear, but I didn’t come to Kildrummy Castle until you were nearly ten years old. For the rest of it, however, your dear mother has agreed to marry me.”

Mary Rose weaved a bit where she stood. She felt Tysen cup her elbow, holding her steady. “I don’t understand. You have always been very kind to me, sir. Is this why? You have always loved my mother?”

“Yes, I have loved your mother for a very long time. However, I could not afford to make her my wife until recently, when I inherited property and money from my mother. You see, if she had married me, we would have been forced to live here at Kildrummy since there were no cottages available.” He paused a moment and smiled down at Mary Rose’s mother. He said now, “As for you, Mary Rose, I saw you, your beautiful red hair flying around your little face, all skinny, your slipper hanging off your left foot, and you gave me this big smile, and I fell in love. You also had the most beautiful teeth. No, my dear, I love you for yourself. Do you mind? Can I now be your stepfather?”

Mary Rose turned to her mother, who’d said nothing, just sat on the settee, gowned in lovely light-blue muslin, looking both pale and worried and quite happy. “Mama?”

“Yes, my darling, I would very much like to marry Miles.” She drew a deep breath, rose slowly. “You see, he could love me because he was the only one to whom I was never a madwoman. It has been a long time, for both of us. But now you are settled and it is time.”

Tysen said, “I congratulate both of you. Mary Rose, what do you think about this?”

“I just don’t know. So many things have happened. I thought Mama would come with us back to England, that I wouldn’t be alone in a foreign country, that—”

“Oh, dearest,” Gweneth said, her hands outstretched, walking quickly to her daughter. “We can wait if you wish. I will accompany you and your husband back to England.”

Mary Rose was shaking her head. “No, Mama, that was very selfish of me. I am so very happy being married to Tysen that I cannot imagine you not having that happiness as well.” But as she said those words, Mary Rose thought of her mother and Miles MacNeily in bed together, their clothes on the floor, pressed together like she and Tysen had been last night, Tysen’s mouth all over her, and she simply couldn’t imagine such a thing. She stared at the toes of her slippers. “Oh, goodness,” she whispered.

Tysen said, “Excellent. We have need of some champagne.” He paused then and said, “May we end it here, ma’am? It really is time, you know. Time for Mary Rose to learn about her father, to learn about the trust he left for her.”

“Yes,” Gweneth said, “it is past time. It’s just that there is tragedy as well, Mary Rose, and it will hurt you to know.”