The Heiress Bride - Catherine Coulter [140]
“I don’t hate you, Colin.”
“Thank you, Serena. I truly don’t know how Fiona felt about me before she died. I pray she didn’t hate me. I never wished her ill.”
“I would never hate you, Colin, never. I only wish I had been the heiress. Then you wouldn’t have had to go to London and marry her.”
“Ah, but I did and there’s an end to it. And you, my dear, will go to Edinburgh to live with your father. You will go to parties and balls. You will meet many nice men. It is for the best, Serena.”
“All adults say that when they wish to justify what they’re doing to someone else.”
“You’re an adult,” Sinjun said. “Surely you don’t wish to remain here at Vere Castle.”
“No, you’re right. Since Colin won’t make love to me now, I might as well leave.” With those words, she rose from her chair, not waiting for Rory to assist her, and, oblivious of the stunned silence, wafted her way from the room.
“You have very odd relatives, Colin,” Douglas said.
“What about your mother, Douglas, and how she treats me?”
“All right, Alex. Most families have strange members,” Douglas said, grinning at his wife. “Serena . . . I don’t know, Colin. She seems fey, if you know what I mean. Not daft, not really, just fey.”
“Yes, as if both her feet weren’t quite planted firmly on the grass. She’s always fancied the notion that she was a witch, and she’s dabbled with her plants for many years now.”
“But you don’t believe she would kill her own sister. And drug you so you would take the blame?”
“No, I don’t, Joan. But as Douglas says, Serena is odd. She always has been. Fiona adored her though, insisted that she live here with us, though I wasn’t overly pleased about it.”
“Did she try to kiss you in front of her sister?”
“No, Alex, she didn’t. That began after her sister died. When I brought Joan back, she tried to waylay me behind every door.”
“It would be nice to have some clarity here,” Douglas said.
“Perhaps,” Sinjun said, “we should call Dahling. She has opinions on everything and everyone.”
“Joan,” Colin said suddenly, frowning down the table at her, “you haven’t eaten and it doesn’t please me. I must insist that you regain your strength. Philpot, please serve her ladyship a noble plate.”
At that, both brothers and both wives looked at each other, then burst into merry laughter. Colin blinked; then, to Sinjun’s surprised delight, he flushed, again.
Colin, a celibate for too many weeks, had no difficulty in pleasing his wife yet another time before they slept. And Sinjun, laboring under misapprehensions for too many weeks and delighted with her newfound knowledge, was nothing loath.
They both slept deeply until suddenly, without warning, Sinjun was instantly awake, her eyes wide open to the darkness of their bedchamber.
There, shimmering in a soft light with her brocade gown weighted down with dozens and dozens of glistening pale cream pearls, was Pearlin’ Jane, and she was upset, Sinjun knew it, deep down.
“Quickly, Aunt Arleth’s room!”
The words were loud in Sinjun’s mind, so loud she couldn’t believe that Colin hadn’t come roaring awake.
Then Pearlin’ Jane was gone, vanished from one instant to the next. Not like the Virgin Bride, who gently eased out of view, slowly moving away until the shadows and she became one. No, Pearlin’ Jane was there and then she wasn’t.
Sinjun shook Colin even as she threw back the covers.
“Colin!” she shrieked at him as she pulled her discarded nightgown over her head.
He was awake and confused, but her urgency shook him. “What, Joan? What’s the matter?”
“Hurry, it’s Aunt Arleth!”
Sinjun ran from the bedchamber, not bothering with a candle. There was no time.
She shouted as she passed by each brother’s door but she didn’t slow.
When she