The Heiress Bride - Catherine Coulter [59]
“This is my aunt Arleth, my mother’s younger sister. Arleth, my wife, Joan.”
An older, sharp-chinned face came into view and Sinjun smiled and took the woman’s hand, bidding her hello.
“And this is—was—my sister-in-law, Serena.”
Ah, a very pretty young woman, not many years older than Sinjun, and she smiled nicely.
“And these are my children. Philip, Dahling, come here and say hello to your new mama.”
It was at that point that Sinjun simply stopped cold in her tracks. She stared at her husband, but he said nothing more. She thought she couldn’t have understood him properly. But there, walking slowly toward her, their faces sullen, their eyes narrowed with suspicion, were two children. A boy, about six years old, and a little girl, four, perhaps five.
“Say hello to Joan. She’s my new wife and your new stepmother.” Colin’s voice was deep and commanding. She would have answered if he’d spoken to her in that tone. He’d made no move toward his own children.
“Hello, Joan,” the boy said, then added, “My name’s Philip.”
“I’m Dahling,” said the little girl.
Sinjun tried to smile, tried to be pleasant. She loved children, she truly did, but to be a stepmother without any warning? She looked again at Colin, but he was smiling down at the little girl. Then he picked her up and she wound her arms around his neck and said, “Welcome home, Papa.”
Papa! It couldn’t be true, but it was. Sinjun managed to get out, “Are you really darling? All the time?”
“Of course, what else could I be?”
Colin said, “Her name’s actually Fiona, like her mother. There was confusion, so everyone started calling her Dahling, her second name.” He then spelled it for her.
“Hello, Dahling, Philip. I’m pleased to meet both of you.”
“You’re very tall,” Philip said, the image of his father, except for cool gray eyes that were staring at her hard.
“You’re all rumpled,” Dahling said. “There’s an ugly scar on your face.”
Sinjun laughed. You could always count on children for unadorned candor. “That’s true. Your father and I rode all the way from Edinburgh—indeed, nearly all the way from York. We’re both in need of a good bath.”
“Cousin MacDuff said you were nice and we were to be polite to you.”
“It sounds like a good idea to me,” Sinjun said.
“Enough, children,” Aunt Arleth said, coming up to them. “Excuse them, er—”
“Oh, please call me Sinjun.”
“No, call her Joan.”
Serena looked from one to the other. It was at that moment that Sinjun wished with all her heart that she were standing on the cliffs next to Northcliffe Hall, looking out over the English channel, the sea wind ruffling her hair. She hurt between her legs, hurt very badly. She looked at Colin and said calmly, “I’m afraid I don’t feel very well.”
He was quick, she’d give him that. He picked her up and, without another word to anyone, carried her up a wide staircase, down a wide, very long corridor that was dark and smelled musty. It seemed to Sinjun that he’d marched a mile with her in his arms before he entered a huge bedchamber and put her down on the bed. He then started to pull up her riding skirts.
She batted at his hands, yelling, “No!”
“Joan, let me see the damage. For heaven’s sake, I’m your husband. I’ve already seen everything you have to offer.”
“Go away. I’m not very fond of you at the moment, Colin. Please, just go away.”
“As you will. Shall I have some hot water sent up?”
“Yes,