The Heiress Bride

by Catherine Coulter

“Why not? You liked it. I don’t know why you made me stop so quickly that first time. I was just learning how to do it. I could continue on and on tonight. I don’t wish to have you do the other thing to me. We have already decided that you will not. You are too large.”

  “I told you that you didn’t know anything. For a girl who’s so intelligent, so very well educated, your ignorance in this matter is laughable. I will make love to you, Joan, and I will come inside you the way I am supposed to, the way men and women have come together since the moment God set them in Eden.”

  “Very well, I see you are quite set on this. I was just testing the waters. I’m willing to compromise with you, Colin. I will be able to endure one time, I think. It shouldn’t be so bad. But more than one time I cannot allow. It would be cruel of you to insist.”

  He laughed, he couldn’t help himself. God, he’d missed her, and he hadn’t wanted to, damn her Sassenach hide. No, he’d wanted to take other women, but he hadn’t, though several ladies had issued invitations that only a blind man would have missed. No, he hadn’t touched another woman, and he’d thought about her, those long white legs of hers, but most of all her absolute honesty. He cursed. He didn’t believe for a minute that she would ever lay a finger in anger on a child, any child, even Dahling at her most irritating.

  “No, we’ll do it right. I have endured abstinence. I’m not meant for celibacy. At least no more of it. I will take you as many times as it pleases me to do so, and you will enjoy it, Joan. You will trust me.”

  She didn’t move an inch, didn’t twitch. “You force me to bare my soul, so to speak, to mortify myself, which I don’t like to do.” She drew a deep breath and stared him right in the eye. “I’m not pregnant, Colin.”

  “It is just as well that you aren’t. You and I need more time together before you bear my children. We need more understanding between us. You must needs learn your role in my house and what I expect from you.”

  “No, I mean I’m not pregnant right now.”

  He felt an earthquake of frustration. He felt all the blood in his groin whoosh back to his brain. If there had been a full moon, he’d have howled and run like a crazy man over the Lomond moors.

  He looked at her with a thread of hope. “You mean you didn’t discover you weren’t pregnant last week, say?”

  “No, right now. Right this very minute as we speak.”

  “Perhaps you are nearing the end of it?”

  “No.”

  Did he expect her to tell him the truth? As a matter of fact, he did.

  “Well, blessed hell,” he said.

  “That’s my brothers’ favorite curse,” she said, “all except for Tysen, who’s the clergyman.”

  “I must have heard your dear brothers say it enough. It always preceded their attacking me.”

  “They love me,” she said simply. She waited. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even look as though he wanted to, but simply lacked the proper words or the ability. “Yes,” she said, “blessed hell.”

  “Come here and I will kiss you.”

  It wouldn’t solve anything, but it would be pleasant, of that she had no doubt. She walked to him with no hesitation. “I would like that. Thank you, Colin.”

  For a Colin kiss, it wasn’t his best, she thought, wishing he would kiss her as he had on their wedding night. He gently set her away from him but kept his hands on her upper arms. He breathed in the sweet scent of her. He felt the softness of her flesh beneath his fingers.

  She said, her eyes never leaving his mouth, “Edinburgh is but a half day from here.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “You could come home every few days, Colin.”

  “Yes, but I won’t, not until everything is handled to my satisfaction.”

  “Where is Robert MacPherson? Have you spoken to the old laird?”

  “I have no idea where Robert MacPherson is right now. Perhaps he followed me back here. I don’t know. But it seems most likely that he will remain in Edinburgh, to try to get to me there. He hasn’t tried anything so far. I have met with old Latham, his father, and he doesn’t understand why Robbie is acting like such a cowardly sod. He’s put out the word for his son to see him, but to date he hasn’t shown himself. He says that Robbie told him I had no proof of anything and he himself would admit nothing to his father. We will see. He will have to come to me sooner or later.”

  “Why don’t you just kill him?”

  Colin blinked down at her. “You’re a woman,” he said slowly. “Women are supposed to be gentle, to despise violence and war. You want me to kill him?”

  She looked thoughtful, then nodded. “Yes, I suppose you must. He sounds unbalanced, a bit like Aunt Arleth. I don’t wish to live in fear of his hurting or killing you. Yes, I think you should kill him, but cleverly, of course.”

  He could find no words.

  “I could write my brothers and ask them how best to proceed.”

  “No,” he said quickly, “oh no, don’t do that. Listen, it’s possible he hasn’t had anything to do with the trouble. I don’t believe that myself, but it’s possible. After all, you were the one hurt in Edinburgh. Robbie is a good shot. It’s difficult to believe he missed.”

  “You’re forgetting London. And I should say that trouble is a passionless word for trying to kill someone, Colin.”

  “I can’t be certain. It is likely, but not certain.”

  “So you will remain in Edinburgh until he either kills you or you manage to kill him in the act of trying to kill you?”

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “I expect that’s about it.”

  “Sometimes I think gentlemen are too soft.”

  “I shouldn’t wish to hang.”

  “Oh, you’re much too smart to have anyone think you’d done it. Aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never before killed anyone with any kind of premeditation.”

  He released her and watched her walk to one of the huge overstuffed leather chairs. She stood behind it. “Nor have I. I wish you would consider it, though. Now, Colin, I wish you would apologize to me for your distressing behavior today.”

  He stiffened up like the fireplace poker. “You and I had a bargain. You didn’t keep to your end of it. You disobeyed me.”

  “And if I weren’t indisposed at the moment, you would punish me for it.”

  “Lovemaking isn’t punishment, damn you!”

  “Ha! I’m your wife and I’m in a very certain position to know that it is! It’s painful, humiliating, and isn’t at all pleasant except for the man, who could doubtless rut a goat and still enjoy himself!”

  He cursed, nothing original from what Sinjun could hear, but it showed a frayed state of mind. Not being an unkind person, she said, “It’s all right, Colin, I will forgive you even though you can’t find it in yourself to apologize. I will continue to improve upon matters here, but I will tell you that I have spent all the two hundred pounds.”

  “Good, then you will be done with your damned meddling.”

  “Oh no, if you don’t provide me with more funds, I shall simply smile and let Mrs. Seton continue reminding all the tradesmen how you, the fortune-hunting laird, managed to snag an heiress.”

  “Continue?”

  “Oh yes, she much enjoys getting back her former consequence. She’s even fond of me, since I’m the bottomless pit of groats. It was quite easy to win her over.”

  It was as if he were sinking in the treacherous Kelly peat bog with no hope of rescue. “I will speak to her and tell her to keep her tongue behind her teeth.” It was a pitiful attempt to regain a semblance of control and he knew it. However, she didn’t have to grin at him.

  Colin sighed. “I came home to see you, truth be told. And my children, of course. I wish you would make a push to gain their affections.”

  “Children do things in their own good time. Philip and Dahling are no different. I’m quite pleased with our progress, actually.”

  “You are but nineteen, not ninety-nin
e! You don’t know everything about children!”

  “Of course I do. I have found them to be unpredictable and perverse and immensely creative. But bad feelings don’t suit them, not really. We will see. It would help if you were to remain and assist them to see their new stepmother as a very charming person.”

  “I’m going to Clackmannanshire to oversee the purchase of sheep. The cattle are coming from Berwick. I will return home when that is taken care of and Robert MacPherson is either dead or I judge him innocent.”

  Sinjun gave him a long look. “There are several lists for you in the estate room, from the crofters I have visited. I trust you wish to see to them?”

  He cursed again, but she said nothing more, simply went behind the musty Oriental screen and put on her nightgown.

  He was gone the following morning before she awoke.

  Sinjun smiled as she heard the huge clock downstairs strike twelve times. Ah, the stroke of midnight. It shouldn’t be long now.

  It wasn’t. Not ten minutes later she heard the soft scraping sounds, like light-footed scurrying rats in the wainscoting. There were the familiar moans, the slapping of the chains.

  Very slowly, she sat up in bed and counted to five. Finally she cried out, sounding so terrified she scared herself. “Oh, please stop, halt, I say! Oh, dear heavens, save me, save me!” Then she moaned herself. “I cannot bear it, I shall have to leave this haunted place. Ah, Pearlin’ Jane, no, no.”

  Finally the sounds ceased.

  She was grinning like a half-wit when she slipped out of bed an hour later.

  Philip was twitching in his sleep. He was dreaming about a large fighting trout he’d caught in Loch Leven the previous week, when he’d gone with Murdock the Stunted. The trout grew as his dream lengthened. It got bigger and bigger and its mouth seemed now the size of an open door. Then Murdock the Stunted was touching him, telling him what a fine fisherman he was, his voice soft and softer still . . .

  But it wasn’t Murdock the Stunted’s fingers or his voice. Suddenly the trout was gone and he was back in his own bed, but he wasn’t alone. He felt it again, like soft fingers on the back of his neck, and he heard the soft voice saying, “You’re a bright lad, Philip, so bright and so kind. Och, aye, a good lad.” He lurched upright and there, beside his bed, hand still outstretched, was a dead lady.

  She had long, nearly white hair and wore a flowing white gown. She was young and beautiful, but she looked ghastly. Her hand was but inches from him and that hand and all its dead fingers were whiter than her gown.

  Philip swallowed, then yelled at the top of his lungs. He grabbed his covers and yanked them over his head. It was a nightmare, his brain had made the trout into a ghost, that was all, but he burrowed farther down into the feather mattress, clutching the covers over him like a lifeline.

  There was the soft voice again. “Philip, I’m the Virgin Bride. Your new stepmother told you about me. I protect her, Philip. Your Pearlin’ Jane is afraid of me. She doesn’t like the way you and Dahling are trying to scare off Sinjun.”

  Just as suddenly the voice stopped. Philip didn’t move. Since he couldn’t breathe, he made a small tunnel beneath the bedclothes to the edge of the bed. He waited, his breath coming in huge gasps.

  It wasn’t until dawn that he eased his head out from under the covers. Dull morning light was seeping into his bedchamber. There was no sign of anything or anyone. Not a sign of the Virgin Bride.

  * * *

  Sinjun went about her usual duties, outwardly serene, smiling, wishing Aunt Arleth would drop into a deep well. Colin had been gone four days now, and she was so angry with him that she occasionally shook with it.

  She was very tempted to go to Edinburgh. Or would he now be in Clackmannanshire or Berwick? Damned man.

  Her trunks and Fanny her mare arrived late that morning, delivered by James, one of the head Northcliffe Hall stable lads, and three of his companions, stable lads all. She danced about like a child, so excited that she even kissed James and hugged the other stable lads. All was well at Northcliffe Hall, including her mother, the dowager countess, who was, nevertheless, according to James, a bit downpin because there was no one else about for her to improve upon. James delivered letters to Sinjun, saw Dulcie smiling at him as if he were a prince, and was more than delighted to spend the night at Vere Castle.

  After she saw James and the stable lads off the next morning, their satchels filled with food for them and letters for her family, she went to the stables and saddled Fanny herself.

  “She be a foine mare,” said Murdock the Stunted. Young Ostle, all of twenty-two years old, agreed fervently. George II, a mongrel of indeterminate lineage, barked wildly at the scent of the new animal, and Crocker yelled at him in language so colorful Sinjun vowed to make him her teacher.

  The day was warm, the sun bright overhead. Sinjun click-clicked Fanny onto the gravel drive, now widened and newly regraveled—with the assurance, naturally, that the laird would pay for it upon his return. She was smiling. She’d ordered other things done as well the same day that Colin had left again. Three of the crofters’ huts were getting new roofs. She’d purchased seven goats and distributed them to all the crofters with children and babies. She’d sent Mr. Seton—never loath to impress his neighbors and the tradesmen with his importance—to Kinross to purchase more grain and sorely needed farming implements. A score of barrels and several dozen chickens had been duly distributed to the crofters. Ah, yes, she’d been busy, she’d meddled to her heart’s content, and if Colin didn’t return home soon, she fancied she would begin another wing to Vere Castle. She’d also set the local seamstress to work on pennants for the four Vere Castle towers. The Kinross tartan pattern was of red, dark forest green, and black. She wished she could see Colin garbed in a Highland kilt, but they’d been outlawed after Culloden in 1746. It was a pity, but the pennants would proudly fly the Kinross tartan.

  Sinjun set Fanny into a gallop all the way to the very edge of Loch Leven and loosed the reins so her mare could drink the cold water. She looked toward the eastern moors that stretched up the sides of the Lomond Hills themselves. Barren and empty and immensely savage. Even at this distance she could see patches of purple heather, sprouting up between rocks and out of deep crevices in the land. And to the west, the land was verdant, rich and lush, and every acre of it tilled and flowering with growing wheat and barley and rye. A land of contradictions, a land of beauty so profound she felt it touch the deepest part of her. It was now her land, and there was no going back.

  She patted Fanny’s sleek neck. “I’m being a romantic and you’re fat,” she said, sniffing in the clear sweet air, the scent of honeysuckle and heather light and teasing. “Douglas has been letting you eat your head off in the stables, hasn’t he? A good gallop is just what you need, my girl.”

  “I occasionally say that to my women.”

  Sinjun turned slowly in her saddle. A man was seated on a magnificent bay barb not six feet from her. Why hadn’t Fanny whinnied?

  “I wonder why my mare didn’t alert me to your presence,” she said aloud, straightening now and looking at him.

  He frowned. A bit of fear would have pleased him. At least a show of surprise at his unexpected appearance. Perhaps her wits were slow and she hadn’t understood his small jest.

  “Your mare didn’t alert you because she’s drinking from the loch. The loch water is magical, ’tis said, and a mare will drink until her stomach bloats.”

  “Then I should stop her.” Sinjun gently tugged the reins back, forcing Fanny’s muzzle from the water. “Who are you, sir? A neighbor, perhaps?”

  “I suppose I’m a neighbor. You are the new countess of Ashburnham.”

  She nodded.

  “You’re quite lovely. I expected a rabbit-toothed hag, truth be told, since you’re such a full-blooded heiress. Colin must believe he’s the luckiest bastard alive.”

  “I’m pleased I’m not a hag, for Colin never would have wed me, regardless of the number
and weight of my groats. As for his feelings of luck, I cannot attest to that.”

  He frowned at her. “Colin is a fool. He’s not worthy of any woman’s regard.”

  She looked at him more closely now as he spoke. He was tall, perhaps taller than Colin, though it was difficult to be certain, since he was sitting atop his stallion, his posture indolent, his expression amused, his clothing of the best quality and fitting him perfectly. And he was very slender, to the point of delicateness, but surely that was an absurd thought to apply to a man. He had a full head of very soft blond hair and his forehead was high and wide. If anything, his features were too refined, too soft, almost feminine. His complexion was fair, his eyes a pale blue, his jawline and his chin as soft and delicate as a woman’s. This quite pretty man was vicious?

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I am Robert MacPherson.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  “Did you now? Well, that does make it easier, doesn’t it? What has the bastard said about me?”

  Sinjun shook her head. “Did you try to kill Colin in London?”

  She saw that he hadn’t; the surprise was too sharp in his eyes, his hands tightened too quickly and roughly on his stallion’s reins. So it had evidently been a coincidence after all. He laughed as he flicked a fly from his stallion’s neck. “Perhaps. I try to take advantage of opportunities when they present themselves.”

  “Why would you wish to kill Colin?”

  “He’s a murdering sod. He killed my sister. Broke her neck and threw her off a cliff. Isn’t that an excellent reason?”

  “Do you have proof of your accusation?”

  He drew his stallion closer to the mare. The mare flung back her head, nervous, her eyes rolling at the stallion’s scent.

  “No closer, if you please.” Sinjun calmed Fanny, crooning to her, ignoring Robert MacPherson.

  “I don’t understand why you aren’t frightened of me. I now have you in my power. I can do as I please with you. Perhaps I will ravish you until your womb takes my seed. Perhaps you will bear a child and it will be mine.”

  She cocked her head to one side, studying him. “You sound like a very bad actor in an inferior play in Drury Lane. It is curious, I think.”