The Heiress Bride - Catherine Coulter [18]
“More than acceptable,” Sinjun said, and felt her heart thump wildly in her breast. He’d accepted her. Finally. She wanted to kick her heels in the air.
He sighed then and plowed his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. He stopped cold when she said in a marveling voice, “I didn’t ever think I would fall in love. No gentleman has ever made me think there was anything to this love business. I found some of them amusing, but nothing more than that. Others were stupid and rude and had no chins. Some thought me a bluestocking, and all because I’m not ignorant. I couldn’t imagine having any of them kissing me. Goodness, if any of them had even touched my bottom, I should have shrieked and killed them. But with you . . . it’s different. I understand that you don’t love me. Please believe me that it doesn’t matter. I will do my best to make you care for me. Now, there is nothing more I can say other than I will try to make you a good wife. Would you like to eat one of Mrs. Potter’s scones, or would you like to leave and go somewhere private to brood?”
“Brood,” he said. “There is so much you don’t know about me. You might very well change your mind.”
She gave him a long, thoughtful look. She said quite calmly and with great finality, “You will care for me, will you not, if we marry?”
“I will protect you with my life. It would be my responsibility.”
“You would give me respect?”
“If you deserve it.”
“Very well, then. You can tell me anything you wish to after the ceremony. Not before. And know now that nothing you say to me will change how I feel about you. It’s just that I don’t want anything untoward and unimportant coming to Douglas’s ears before we’re married.”
He would wed her. He desperately needed the money, and he liked her, despite her outlandishness. It was frightening, this openness of hers, this truth that knew no tempering. Well, he could teach her to moderate her tongue. He knew he wouldn’t find it at all difficult to bed her. Yes, he would wed her. But he would wait the week her brother had demanded. But it had to be soon after that. The situation back home was growing worse by the day. She would do just fine. And she’d presented herself to him on a wondrous silver plate. Only a fool would look such a gift-heiress in the mouth. Colin Kinross wasn’t a fool.
He strode over to her, pulled her to her feet, and just looked down at her silently. Then he kissed her lightly on her closed mouth. He wanted more but forced himself not to take any more from her, even though he imagined he could ease her down to the floor this very minute and take her without much fuss. But he didn’t. He would keep himself within safe bounds. He said, “I would like to see you again, despite your brother’s edict. Would you like to go riding tomorrow? We’ll be discreet.”
“I would love to. Douglas will never know. Oh, Colin?”
He turned.
“Will you teach me how to speak Scottish?”
“Aye, and ’twill be my pleasure, lassie.” His voice was lilting and smooth as honey. “Ye’ll be my sweetheart, dinna ye ken?”
“I’ve never been a sweetheart before. It sounds grand.”
All he could do was shake his head at her.
Douglas said to his wife, “I’ve discovered nothing ill about Ashburnham. He is liked and respected. He attended Eton and Oxford. He has many men friends in society. The only thing any of them can say is that he must marry an heiress.” Douglas, in a habit that was becoming more pronounced, plowed his fingers through his hair again. He continued his pacing as