The Scottish Bride - Catherine Coulter [9]
“And jest who be ye?” she demanded and crossed her massive arms over her equally massive bosom.
“I,” Tysen said, “am a man of God who is desperately trying to keep firm control of himself.”
“That’s right. Ye’re the reverend,” Agnes said and gave him a big smile from a mouth that held only three teeth.
There was no yelling to the ceiling, no foul curses, no bodily threats. No, Tysen merely regarded his filthy daughter, standing very close to her aunt Sinjun in the drawing room, and said finally, his voice low, controlled, very cold, “I am severely disappointed in you, Meggie.” Without pause he turned to his sister. “I have inherited the Barony of Barthwick from Great Uncle Tyronne and am now Baron Barthwick of Kildrummy Castle. My new castle and holding lie some seven miles south of Stonehaven. I am here in Scotland to see to my lands, determine what it is I will do, and spend some time with you and Colin. Also, I believe the Barthwick solicitor, a Mr. MacCray, is here in Edinburgh. I will need to speak with him.”
“Yes, Donald MacCray is here. He is very popular, particularly with the ladies.” Sinjun then just gave her head a slight shake and went down on her knees in front of Meggie. “You are a mess, dear heart. Why don’t you come with me upstairs and we will get you bathed and changed. Did you manage to bring clothes? No? It isn’t a problem. Dahling is quite the young lady now—all of fourteen—but surely she must have some older clothes still in her drawers.”
Meggie, looking over her shoulder at her father, who hadn’t moved from the same spot and who was giving her a very stern, emotionless look, dropped her shoulders and said just above a whisper, “I’m sorry, Papa, truly. But I had to come with you, to protect you, to take care of you.”
“Go with your aunt, Meggie,” Tysen said, and walked over to one of the lovely bow windows in the drawing room. He heard a sniffle, heard her leave the room with Sinjun. He closed his eyes, appalled at what she had done. For five and a half days, his little girl had ridden on the back of his carriage. Where had she slept at night? In the stables of the inns, naturally. He started shaking, just thinking of what could have happened to her. He prayed now, thanking God for keeping her safe, since he, her father, hadn’t done so. All that blasted rain—what if she became ill? What if she died in Scotland because he never gave his borrowed tiger a second glance? Sinjun had known it was her immediately. He was her father, and he was blind.
It was devastating.
Tysen was still utterly white when Sinjun came back into the drawing room. It had been on the tip of her tongue to remonstrate with him for his coldness, despite the fact that Meggie’s outrageous deception had nearly curled her own toes, but at the sight of him, all white about the gills, all she could think of doing was hugging him until he regained some of his color, which is what she did. “It’s all right, Tysen,” she said over and over against his cheek, holding him tightly against her. “It’s all right. Meggie is fine. Mary is with her, helping her bathe. She is all right, no bad aftereffects. Stop worrying.”
He heaved a very big breath, then slowly pulled away from her. “I never even noticed her, Sinjun, yet you knew it was her right away. So did Old Angus. But not her father. Bloody hell, what kind of a man am I?”
He’d said “bloody hell,” the favorite Sherbrooke curse. Sinjun just couldn’t believe it. She gave her brother a dazzling smile. “Parents see what they expect to see, it’s that simple. Stop feeling guilty. It doesn’t become you. Yes, that’s better, you’ve finally got some color. Now, what are you going to do?”
Tysen said slowly, “I would like to thrash my daughter for her appalling behavior, but I don’t think I’ll be able to bring myself to do it. I spanked her once last year, and the guilt nearly laid me low for a week. What do you suggest, Sinjun?”
“It’s difficult,” she said at last, after worrying her lower lip. “Let’s ask Colin, all right? He and Dahling