The Heiress Bride - Catherine Coulter [133]
“I didn’t know you were so accomplished.”
He sounded a bit miffed. She cocked her head to one side and grinned. “You sound just like Ryder and Douglas when I happen to outdo them at something. They taught me to shoot, to be an excellent archer, to ride like a veritable Diana, to swim like an—well, never mind. My point is they taught me all the manly sorts of things, but when I prove proficient, they act scandalized.”
“They’re unreasonable, naturally. A man enjoys having his wife don his britches and ride off to do battle with his enemies, leaving him to flounder about with nothing to say, nothing to do.”
“I’ve decided it’s not just a matter of wives. I think it’s just that men must always feel that they are the ones in control.”
“For all your daring, Joan, for all your bravery, for all your passion for my welfare, and your terrifyingly creative mind, you are still weaker than I. Any man, be he brilliant or a half-wit, could hurt you. That’s why you have men. We really are useful creatures. It’s our responsibility to protect our wives and our children.”
“Ha! You know that’s nonsense, Colin. This is no longer medieval times, when robbers roamed the land.”
“Why are you arguing?” Philip asked, looking from her to his father. “Both of you are right. Boys, too, can prove worthwhile in a fight. Didn’t I ride to fetch you, Papa, from Edinburgh? Without me, Joan would have been really ill.”
They looked at each other over Philip’s head. Sinjun grinned. Colin said, “You believe every family member should contribute his bit, eh? Everyone should have the chance to be a hero once in a while?”
“That would mean even Dahling would get her chance,” Philip said, frowning. “What do you think, Sinjun?”
“I think your father has finally grasped the right straw.”
“Now, Philip, if you will accept Joan’s apology—”
“Her name is Sinjun, Papa. I accept, Sinjun. You’d do anything for Papa, so I suppose I shouldn’t hold it against you.”
“Thank you,” she said humbly. She watched Colin’s left eyebrow go up a good inch; she watched father and son leave the Laird’s Inbetween Room, Colin leaning down to hear what Philip was saying.
She loved him so much it hurt.
Who the devil had told Robert MacPherson that Colin had murdered his wife?
The late afternoon was cool. The sky was clear—Sherbrooke blue, Sophie had remarked to her husband, then kissed him.
Colin had wanted to be alone, for just a little while. He frowned now at the water stain on the book he held in his hand. He could tell that the book had been carefully cleaned, its binding oiled, but the stain had been there a long time and would remain there. She’d cleaned it, of course. And all the other books as well. He’d known that she had, only he hadn’t realized until now that she’d treated each book as a treasure in itself, carefully and with respect. He laid the book down and walked back to his desk. He sat back in his chair, his arms behind his head, and closed his eyes.
He was in his north tower room. He could smell the fresh heather and roses. And the lemon and beeswax. It smelled of his mother, and now he didn’t feel anger at his wife, he felt profound gratitude. He fancied that before long when he smelled lemon and beeswax, it would be his wife he thought of, not his mother.
I love you.
Colin supposed he’d always known she loved him, though the notion of that sort of emotion upon meeting another person he couldn’t easily credit. On the other hand, she’d taken his side from the very beginning. She’d never wavered in her belief in him. Even when they’d argued, he’d known that she’d die for him if it came to it.
It was humbling.
He was so damned lucky he couldn’t believe it. He’d gotten his heiress. He’d also gotten a lady who was a wonderful mother to his children, a lady who was an excellent wife. Albeit stubborn; albeit much too impulsive.
Just when everything seemed at last to be coming out from behind that awful black cloud, there was an enemy still hidden. He wondered if he should have simply beat the name out of MacPherson. Probably. Joan wouldn’t have held him