The Heiress Bride - Catherine Coulter [93]
Sinjun shivered, not because wispy gray clouds had moved to block the afternoon sun, but because she’d never seen such behavior in her family. Her mother had always been a trial, but it hadn’t mattered. It was even amusing now that she could think about it from a goodly distance and not have to live with it.
“But now Colin is the laird. He’s a good man and I daresay he’s found himself an excellent wife.”
“That’s true,” she said, voice tart. “It’s just a pity that he isn’t here to enjoy his good fortune.”
What to do?
Sinjun chewed over all alternatives she could think of during the next two days, always changing and honing down her list of pros and cons. There was no word from Colin. MacDuff was helpful and kind. He consented to give both her and Philip fencing lessons and both of them proved adept with foils. He complimented her continually on the state of the house, and her reply was only that soap and water were not expensive.
“Aye,” he said, “but it takes fortitude to hold out against Aunt Arleth and all her plaints.”
She herself studied Colin’s gun collection, finally selecting a small pocket pistol with a silver butt cap and a double barrel, not more than fifteen years old, that would hide itself in the skirt pocket of her riding habit.
Now she had to rid herself of MacDuff and be available for Robert MacPherson to come upon. She’d decided on making herself bait. It was the cleanest, most straightforward way of getting him. She didn’t doubt for a moment that he or one of his minions was watching Vere Castle. For that reason, she kept both Philip and Dahling close. They were never alone, and if they wondered at her firm stricture, they didn’t voice it.
It was at breakfast the morning of MacDuff’s departure that Dahling swallowed her porridge and said, “I’ve decided that you aren’t ugly, Sinjun.”
MacDuff stared at the little girl but Sinjun only laughed and said, “My thanks, Dahling. I have nearly broken my mirror in my anxiety.”
“May I ride Fanny?”
“Ah, I understand now. The child is attempting a stratagem,” MacDuff said.
“Would I be ugly again if I said no?”
Dahling looked undecided, but finally shook her small head. “No, you just wouldn’t be a Great Beauty, like I will be.”
“Well, in that case, why don’t we compromise? I’ll set you in front of me and we’ll both ride Fanny.”
The little girl beamed at that, and Sinjun, knowing quite well that the child had gotten exactly what she wanted, didn’t mind a bit.
“So both children call you Sinjun now.”
“Yes.”
“I daresay that Colin will have to come around. Is there any message you wish me to deliver to him?”
Now she realized that she didn’t want him around, not until she’d dealt with MacPherson, and only the good Lord knew how long that would take. She said only, “Tell him that the children and I miss him and that all goes well here. Oh yes, MacDuff. Tell him that I would never steal that box of his in the oak tree trunk.”
MacDuff leaned down from his great height and lightly kissed her cheek. “I don’t believe Colin has read any poetry since Malcolm took his book.”
“I will think about that.”
“Good-bye, Sinjun.”
Sinjun marveled that MacDuff’s horse, a hard-jawed hacker a good eighteen hands high, didn’t groan when he swung onto his back. Indeed, the stallion even managed to rear on his hind legs. She remained on the deeply indented front stone steps until he was gone from her sight.
Now, she thought, now it was time to act.
But it was Philip who prevented her. He begged and begged to show her the Cowal Swamp. He even promised her, in a voice that offered a great treat, to let her bring some of the swamp ooze back for her own uses. And that, she thought, wondering how Aunt Arleth would react, convinced her.
Crocker accompanied them, and Sinjun noted that he was well armed, despite the fact there’d been no further violence. She wondered if Colin had told him to arm himself. Very likely. Crocker had said the MacPherson name but once, and he’d spat after he’d said it.
It was a good hour through some of the most beautifully