The Heiress Bride - Catherine Coulter [58]
“There aren’t any damned daisies.”
“I will smell the crocuses, then.”
“You will just stop it, Joan.” He looked enraged. He cursed, then he dismounted.
“Stay away from me!”
He drew up three feet from her. “Is this the girl who wanted me to kiss her in the entrance hall of her brother’s home in London? Is this the girl who walked up to me at the theater, thrust out her hand, and informed me she was an heiress? Is this the girl who kept insisting that I bed her immediately? Even in the carriage? Where is she, I ask you?”
Sinjun didn’t answer. She didn’t care. She turned away from him and took a step. She felt pain grind through her. She stumbled.
“Oh damnation, just hold still and be quiet.”
He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. He saw that damned pain again in her eyes and it struck him silent. Gently now, he drew her against him, supporting her with his arms around her waist. “Just rest a moment,” he said against her hair. “Just rest and then allow me to hold you. I’m sorry, Joan.” He pressed her face against his shoulder. She breathed in the scent of him.
She didn’t say a word.
She arrived at her new home in the arms of her husband atop his horse, just like a fairy princess being brought to her prince’s castle. However, unlike that fairy princess, Sinjun was wrinkled and dusty and painfully aware that she looked a wreck.
“Shush, don’t stiffen up on me,” he said in a low voice, his breath warm on her cheek. “I don’t believe that you’re frightened, not you, a Sherbrooke of Northcliffe Hall. My family and my people will all welcome you. You will be their mistress.”
She was quiet. They rode beneath the incredible canopy of green formed by the tree branches meeting across the drive. As they drew nearer, there were men and women and children and all sorts of animals appearing along the road to welcome Colin home. There was great cheering. Some of the men threw their caps into the air, women waved their aprons. Several mangy dogs yapped and jumped about Colin’s horse, who took it all in stride. There was a goat chewing on a length of rope, not appearing to care that the master was once again gracing them with his presence.
“Everyone knows you’re my bride, my heiress bride, here to save my hide and my castle and keep my people from starvation or emigration. They are probably cheering God’s beneficence rather than us. Though you did find me. I should perhaps let that be known. Then you would be soundly cheered. MacDuff should still be here. I wanted you to have a warm welcome.”
“Thank you, Colin. That’s kind of you.”
“Will you be able to walk?”
“Certainly.”
He smiled over her head at the utter arrogance in her voice. She had guts. She would need them.
Sinjun awoke with a start to pale evening light. For a moment she was confused, then memory righted and she closed her eyes against it. It seemed impossible, but it wasn’t. Colin hadn’t told her. He’d conveniently remained silent on what she considered to be a very important part of her life here at Vere Castle, as his wife. She shook her head, blanking out incredulity and anger at him for his damnable silence, and stared about the huge bedchamber, the laird’s bedchamber, with a gigantic bed set up upon a dais, a bed that would hold six men lying side by side. The room was wainscoted with dark oak, beautiful really, but the dull, very dusty burgundy draperies that were all pulled nearly closed made the room as somber as a monk’s cell. The furniture was old, and she recognized the Tudor style of the huge armoire that dominated one entire corner of the room.
She still didn’t move, just looked about her. She thought of the list of things to be done that was already forming in her mind. So much to be done. Ah, but where to begin? She didn’t want to think about her reception as the countess of Ashburnham, but she had to.
Colin had kept his arm about her waist as he led her