The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5 (83 page)

It was late the following afternoon, as the carriage bowled toward Grantham, that he turned to face her in the carriage and dropped the boot. “I have given this a lot of thought, Joan. This is difficult for me, but I must do it, to absolve myself of a veritable little bit of my guilt. I abused your brother’s hospitality by slipping out like a thief in the night with his sister. No, no, keep quiet. Let me finish. In short, I cannot justify what I’ve done, no matter how hard I try to rationalize it. However, there is one thing I can do that will hold some honor, that will help me live with myself. I won’t
take your virginity until our wedding night.”

“
What?
You mean I’ve left you to yourself, been silent as a punch bowl, and over the past day and a half all you’ve come up with is that bit of arrant nonsense? Colin, listen, you don’t know my brothers! We must, that is, you must make me your wife and this very night, else—”

“Enough! You make it seem like I’m going to torture you, for God’s sake, rather than preserve your damned innocence. It isn’t nonsense, arrant or otherwise. I won’t dishonor you in that way; I won’t dishonor your family in that way. I was raised to hold honor dear. It’s in my blood, in my heritage, generation upon generation of it, even through all the killings, the savage battles, there was honor somewhere lurking about. I must marry quickly to save my family and my holdings, you know that well enough, and to protect them from the damned raiding and lying MacPhersons, but one thing I don’t have to do is be a rutting stoat on an innocent girl who isn’t yet my wife.”

“Who are the MacPhersons?”

“Damnation, I didn’t mean to mention them. Forget them.”

“But what if Douglas catches us?”

“I will handle it when and if it happens.”

“I understand about honor, I truly do, Colin, but somehow it’s more than that, isn’t it? Do you dislike me so much? I know I’m too tall and perhaps too skinny for your tastes, but—”

“No, you’re not too tall or too skinny. Just leave it be, Joan. My mind is made up. I won’t take your virginity until we’re wed, and that’s that.”

“I see, my lord. Well, my lord, my mind is also made up. I fully intend for my virginity to be but a memory by the time we reach Scotland. I don’t think it reasonable to think that you can simply
handle
Douglas if he catches us. You don’t know my brother. I might think I’m clever, all my machinations to evade him, trying alternate routes and all that, but he’s as cunning as a snake. No, my virginity is more than just a marital thing, Colin. It’s necessary that you rid me of it quickly. I feel very strongly about this, so it’s not just that’s that. Now, just whose mind is it that will carry the day?”

She wished he’d yell as Douglas and Ryder did, but he didn’t, saying only, very calmly, very coldly, “Mine, naturally. I’m the man. I will be your husband and you will obey me. You can begin obeying me now. It will doubtless be good for your character.”

“No one has ever spoken to me like that except my mother, and she I could always ignore.”

“You won’t ignore me. Don’t be childish about this. Trust me.”

“You’re as autocratic as Douglas, damn you, even though you haven’t yelled.”

“Then you should realize your only choice is to shut your mouth.”

“Take out your own stitches,” she said, utterly infuriated with him, and turned to look out the window.

“A spoiled English twit. I might have known. I’m disappointed but not surprised. You can back out of this, my dear, you surely can, with all your English virtue still intact. You’re not only outspoken, you’re a termagant if you don’t get your way, a hoyden, and perhaps even bordering on an overbearing shrew. I begin to think your groats aren’t worth all the suffering.”

“What suffering, you beetle-brained clod? Just because I disagree with you, it doesn’t make me a termagant or a shrew or anything else horrible you just called me.”

“You want to back out of this? Fine, have the man turn the carriage around.”

“No, damn you, that would be too easy. I will marry you and teach you what it is to trust someone and confide in someone, to compromise with someone.”

“I’m not used to trusting a woman. I already told you that I liked you, but anything else was out of the question. Believe it. Now, I’m so tired my eyes are crossing. You will be my wife. Act like a lady, if you please.”

“As in fold my hands in my lap and twiddle my thumbs?”

“Yes, a good start. And keep your mouth closed.”

She could only stare at him. It was as if he were trying to drive her away, but she knew he couldn’t want her to back out of the marriage. It was male perversity. Besides, she also had no choice but to marry him. She wanted to yell that it was too late for her, far too late. She’d given him her heart. But she wasn’t about to let him become a tyrant, and groveling at his feet with such a confession would surely make him into a veritable Genghis Khan, given his present attitude. Oh yes, she knew all about tyrants, even though Douglas assumed the tyrant mantle now very rarely. Ah, but she remembered those early days when he’d first wed Alexandra. She gave Colin a sideways look but held her peace. She became silent as a stone. Colin slept until they arrived at the Golden Fleece Inn in Grantham late that evening.

Sinjun assumed that Colin did take out his own stitches, for he again procured two bedchambers, bade her a dutiful good night before her door, and left her. The next morning he hired a horse, merely telling her shortly at breakfast that he was bored with riding inside the damned carriage. Ha! He
was bored with riding with her. He rode outside the carriage for the entire day. If his leg bothered him, he gave no sign of it. In York, Sinjun hired a horse, with a look daring him to object, but he only shrugged, as if to say, it’s your money. If you insist upon wasting it, it doesn’t surprise me. She was glad now that he’d decided not to go to the Lake District, though she’d argued vehemently with him at the time. He wanted to get home more quickly, and even her warnings of Douglas with three guns and a sword hadn’t dissuaded him. She thought, as the wind whipped through her hair, that Lake Windermere was too romantic a spot to share with him. This endless gallop north with the silent man riding just ahead of her wasn’t at all the way she’d imagined her elopement to Scotland to be.

The morning they rode ahead of the carriage across the border into Scotland, Colin reined in and called out, “Stop a moment, Joan. I would speak to you.”

They were in the Cheviot Hills, low, rangy mounds that were mostly bare, stretching as far as she could see. It was beautiful and lonely as the devil and not a soul was to be seen, not a single dwelling. The air was warm and soft, the smell of heather strong. She said to him, “I’m pleased you remember how to speak, given how long it’s been.”

“Hold your tongue. It defies belief that you are angry with me just because I wouldn’t bed you, and here you are a young lady of quality.”

“That isn’t the point—”

“Then you’re still holding your sulk that we didn’t go to the Lake District, a ridiculous ploy that wouldn’t fool an idiot.”

“No, I’m not angry about that. All right, what do you want, Colin?”

“First of all, do you still want to marry me?”

“If I refuse, will you force me because you must marry me because you need my money?”

“Probably. I would think about it, perhaps.”

“Excellent. I won’t marry you. I refuse. I will see you in hell first. Now force me.”

He smiled at her, the first time in four days. He actually smiled. “You aren’t boring, I’ll give you that. Your outrageousness even occasionally pleases me. Very well, we’ll marry tomorrow afternoon when we reach Edinburgh. I have a house on Abbotsford Crescent, old and creaky as the devil and needs money poured into it, but not as badly as Vere Castle. We will stop there and I will try to have a preacher wed us. Then we will ride to Vere Castle the following day.”

“All right,” she said, “but I will tell you again, Colin, and you really should believe me. Douglas is dangerous and smart; he could be anywhere waiting for you. He conducted all sorts of dangerous missions against the French. I tell you, we should wed immediately and—”

“That is, we will ride to Vere Castle unless you’re too sore to ride. Then I will prop you up in the carriage.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about taking you—our wedding night—until you’re raw with it.”

“You’re being purposefully crude, Colin, purposefully nasty and unkind.”

“Perhaps, but you’re in Scotland now, and you will soon be my wife, and you will learn that you owe me your loyalty and your obedience.”

“You were one way when we first met. Then, when you were ill, you were really quite nice, albeit irritable because you hate weakness. Now you’re just being a fool. I will marry you and every time you’re a fool in the future, I’ll do something to you
to make you regret it.” There, she thought, that was setting things straight. She loved him to distraction—a fact she knew well that he knew, and thus his outlandish behavior toward her—but she wouldn’t allow his character flaws or his outmoded notions of husbands and wives to interfere with what she insisted that he be.

He laughed. It was a strong, deep laugh, a laugh of a man who knew his own worth and knew it to be above that of the girl who rode beside him. He was well again and strong of body and ready to take on the world—with her groats. “I look forward to your attempts. But be warned, Joan, Scottish men are masters in their own homes, and they beat their wives, just as your honorable and kind Englishmen occasionally do.”

“That is absurd! No man I know would ever raise a finger against his wife.”

“You have been protected. You will learn.” He started to tell her that he could easily lock her in a musty room in his castle, but he kept quiet. They weren’t yet married. He gave her a look, then a salute, and kicked his horse in its sides to gallop ahead of her.

They arrived at the Kinross house on Abbotsford Crescent at three o’clock the following afternoon. It had been drizzling lightly for the past hour, but Sinjun was too excited to be bothered about the trickles of water down her neck. They’d ridden the Royal Mile, as fine as Bond Street, Sinjun gawking all the way at the fine gentlemen and ladies who looked just as they did in London, and at all the equally fine shops. Then they turned off to the left onto Abbotsford Crescent. Kinross House was in the middle of the crescent, a tall, skinny house of red aged brick, quite lovely really, with its three chimney stacks and its gray slate roof. There were
small windows, each leaded, and she guessed the house to be at least two hundred years old. “It’s beautiful, Colin,” she said as she slipped off her mare’s back. “Is there a stable for our horses?”

They cared for their own mounts, then paid the driver and removed their trunks and valises. Sinjun couldn’t stop talking she was so excited. She kept tossing her head toward the castle that stood atop its hill, exclaiming that she’d seen paintings of it, but to actually see it all shrouded in gray mist, the power of it, how substantial and lasting it was, left her nearly speechless. And Colin only smiled at her, amused at her enthusiasm, for he was tired, the rain was dismal—something he’d grown up with, and the castle, indeed, was a fortress to be reckoned with, but it was just there, brooding over the city, and who really thought about it?

The door was opened by Angus, an old retainer who had been a servant to the Kinross family his entire life. “My lord,” he said. “Dear me and dear all of us. Oh Gawd. Aye, the young lassie is wi’ ye, I see. More’s the pity, aye, sech a pity.”

Colin grew very still. He was afraid to know, but he asked nonetheless, “How do you know about my young lassie, Angus?”

“Och, dear and begorra,” said Angus, pulling on the long straight strands of white hair that fell on each side of his round face.

“I hope you don’t mind that I invited myself in. Your man here didn’t want to let me over the threshold, but I insisted,” Douglas said as he came up behind Angus. He was smiling through his teeth. “You damned bastard, do come in. As for you, Sinjun, you will feel the flat of my hand soon enough.”

Sinjun looked at her furious brother and smiled. It was difficult, but she managed it, for she wasn’t at all surprised to see him. Ah, but Colin was, she
saw. She’d warned him, damn his stubborn hide. She stepped forward. “Hello, Douglas, do forgive me for giving you such a worry but I was afraid you would be intractable. You have that tendency, you know. Welcome to our home. Yes, Douglas, I’m a married lady, married in
all
ways, I might add, so you can forget any notions about annulment. I would appreciate your not trying to kill him, for I’m too young to be a widow.”

“Blessed hell! The damned devil you say!” And there was her brother Ryder, standing at Douglas’s elbow, and he looked fit to kill, flushed to his eyebrows, unlike Douglas, who never stirred when his anger was deep and burning, just remained cold-stone still and yelled. “Is this the fortune-hunting bastard who stole you from Douglas?”

“Yes, that’s him,” Douglas said through still-gritted teeth. “Blessed hell, your
husband!
Damn you, Sinjun, there’s been no time. Ryder and I have ridden like the very devil. You’re lying, Sinjun, tell me you’re lying, and we will leave right now, right this instant, and return to London.”

Colin stepped into his own house and raised his hands. “Be quiet, all of you! Joan, step aside. If your brothers want to kill me, they will, regardless of your trying to protect me by flapping your petticoats at them. Angus, go see to some refreshment. My wife is thirsty, as am I. Gentlemen, either kill me now or come into the drawing room.”