The Heiress Bride - Catherine Coulter [62]
However, living with three brothers had taught her perseverance. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He raked his fingers through his black hair, making it stand on end. “Damnation, Joan, it doesn’t matter now.”
Sinjun leaned back against the pillows, pulling the covers over her more securely. “I can see your point of view, Colin. Actually, I can see it quite clearly. You were afraid I wouldn’t want you for a husband if you’d told me I’d be the proud stepmother of two children who chase away every governess that you or your wife ever hired. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know, dammit.”
“Are there any more little surprises you’ve got waiting for me? Perhaps a mistress in one of those castle towers, who has long golden hair and unrolls it out of the window to pull you up? How about a couple of illegitimate children wandering about? Or perhaps a mad uncle locked away in the Tudor section in a priest hole?”
“Do you have a gown to wear this evening?”
“Yes, but I’ll need Emma to press it for me. I do have only one, Colin. Are there any more surprises?”
“I’ll get Emma, and no, there aren’t, except . . . how did you know about Great-uncle Maximilian? He is mad, true, and he does howl at the full moon every month, but who could have told you? Normally he’s content to quote Rabbie Burns and drink gin.”
“I will assume you’re jesting.”
“Yes, damn you, I am. But the children, that’s different. They’re just children, Joan, and they’re smart little beasts, and they’re mine. I hope you won’t take them into dislike and abuse them just because you’re angry at me for not telling you about them.”
“As in throw rocks at them?”
“I’m serious.”
“Perhaps, then, I can throw rocks at you?”
“If you’re well enough to throw rocks, why then, you’re well enough for me to take you again tonight.” He felt instant guilt, because she actually paled at his words. “Oh, stop it! I’m not a damned savage.”
“I’m relieved. How many governesses have Philip and Dahling enjoyed, say, in the past two years?”
“I don’t know. Not more than three, maybe four. Fiona didn’t like one of them, so the children weren’t responsible. The last one was a fainting ninny and she had no guts.”
“No guts, huh? All right, please tell Emma to press my gown for me. I will have it for her when I have unpacked my valise.”
“She will do that for you.”
“No, I prefer to.”
“How do you feel?”
“Fine. There’s no dressing screen in this room. I trust you will fetch one.”
“Why? You’re my wife and I’m your husband.”
“It isn’t proper for me to dress and undress in front of you. Besides, I will need assistance. Where is the countess’s bedchamber?”
“Through that door,” he said, and pointed to a door that she could barely see because it was built into the wainscoting.
“Is that where your former wife slept?”
“Joan, what’s wrong with you? It doesn’t matter, none of it. She’s dead. You’re my wife and—”
“Since you have my groats, you can send me to heaven with Dahling’s mama. You say that bullet in Edinburgh was intended for you. Perhaps it wasn’t, Colin.”
He picked up a pillow and threw it at her. It hit her smack in the face.
“Don’t you ever speak like that again, do you hear me? Damn you, you’re my bloody countess!”
“All right. I was just angry with you and that’s why I was nasty. Forgive me.”
“I will, this time. Kindly moderate your insults in the future, and stop carping at me. Now, you must hurry. Dinner is served in forty-five minutes. I’ll get Emma.”
He left her without another word.
Well, Sinjun thought, smoothing her hand over the pillow he’d thrown at her, his reaction was interesting. Perhaps he did care for her a bit.
Cousin MacDuff was the first family member she encountered when she came downstairs. He was standing at the foot of the staircase, a brandy snifter in his hand, looking very pensive. He looked even more massive than she remembered. His violent red hair was pomaded down, and his clothes were quite natty, black britches, white linen,