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all about it later,” Sinjun said, and lightly patted his biscuit-colored coat sleeve. She made the mistake of looking at his face and felt her own color rise at her very interesting thoughts.

“Stop it, Joan,” he said low, through his teeth. “You’re a danger to yourself. Just stop it. Do you want your brother to attack me again?”

“Listen, all of you just cease and desist for a minute.” Douglas rose and began pacing the drawing room. He was also carrying his teacup and sloshed tea onto his hand. He grimaced, set the cup down, and resumed his pacing. “You saw him for the first time five days ago, Sinjun. Five days! You can’t possibly know that you’d be content with this man—he’s a bloody stranger.”

“He said he wouldn’t beat me. He said he was kind and felt responsible for his dependents. When it’s really cold he lets his cats sleep with him. What else should I know, Douglas?”

“You might want to know if he cares for anything other than your money, my girl!”

“If he doesn’t now, he will come to care for me. I’m not a bad person, Douglas. You like me.”

Colin rose to stand his full height. “Joan, you will cease to answer for me as if I were a half-wit and not even here.”

“Very well,” Sinjun said, and primly folded her hands in her lap.

“Damnation, my lord, I don’t have a bloody word to say to you! This isn’t . . .” Words failed Douglas. He stomped to the door and turned to say over his shoulder, “I will speak to you again, Colin Kinross, this time next week. Seven days! Seven additional days, do you understand me? You’re to keep away from my sister. One week, mind, no sooner. And keep your damned hands off my sister before you leave her in ten minutes!”

He slammed the door shut behind him. Alex rose then and grinned at them. “I fancy I will anoint his troubled brow with rosewater. It will soothe him.” She giggled and followed her husband from the salon. She said at the door, not turning, “Keep your hands off him, Sinjun, do you hear me? Men have no tolerance in matters of affection. You mustn’t drive him over the brink. Even in only ten minutes, gentlemen can forget every proper behavior they ever learned.”

Were all the Sherbrookes—even those not born Sherbrookes—quite mad?

“I am pleased to have accorded your sister-in-law so much amusement,” Colin said, and there was more irritation in his voice than there was tea in his cup. “If you want me to keep my hands off you, then stop staring at my mouth.”

“I can’t help it. You’re so very beautiful. Oh dear, all we have are ten minutes.”

Colin jumped to his feet, and he took up Douglas’s pacing. “This is all immensely unlikely, Joan,” he said, pivoting to walk toward the marble fireplace. “And in the future I will speak for myself.” And just what would he say? Damnation. He paused, looking down into the empty grate. It was pale pink Italian marble, expensive and fashioned by masters. Then he pictured in his mind the huge blackened fireplace in the great hall of Vere Castle that could hold an entire cow. Old and filthy, the bricks cracking, the mortar falling out in chunks. Jesus, even the magnificent painting of a pastoral scene over the Italian marble mantel was old and reeked of solid wealth and an acceptance of great privilege. Wealth and privilege of many generations. He thought of the winding narrow stairs that climbed to the second-floor north tower, so dangerous now because of wood rot from the cold wind seeping through the gaps in the outer stone. He drew a deep breath. He could save Vere Castle. He could save his people. He could replenish the sheep. He could even plant crops, since he’d learned all about crop rotation. He could buy grain. He turned to his future wife and said, “I will accept your belief that I’m beautiful. A man, I suppose, wants to be thought reasonably acceptable to the woman he marries.”

“More than acceptable,” Sinjun said, and felt her heart thump wildly in her breast. He’d accepted her. Finally. She wanted to kick her heels in the air.

He sighed then and plowed his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. He stopped cold when she said in a marveling voice, “I didn’t ever think I would fall in love. No gentleman has ever made me think there was anything to this love business. I found some of them amusing, but nothing more than that. Others were stupid and rude and had no chins. Some thought me a bluestocking, and all because I’m not ignorant. I couldn’t imagine having any of them kissing me. Goodness, if any of them had even touched my bottom, I should have shrieked and killed them. But with you . . . it’s different. I understand that you don’t love me. Please believe me that it doesn’t matter. I will do my best to make you care for me. Now, there is nothing more I can say other than I will try to make you a good wife. Would you like to eat one of Mrs. Potter’s scones, or would you like to leave and go somewhere private to brood?”

“Brood,” he said. “There is so much you don’t know about me. You might very well change your mind.”

She gave him a long, thoughtful look. She said quite calmly and with great finality, “You will care for me, will you not, if we marry?”

“I will protect you with my life. It would be my responsibility.”

“You would give me respect?”

“If you deserve it.”

“Very well, then. You can tell me anything you wish to after the ceremony. Not before. And know now that nothing you say to me will change how I feel about you. It’s just that I don’t want anything untoward and unimportant coming to Douglas’s ears before we’re married.”

He would wed her. He desperately needed the money, and he liked her, despite her outlandishness. It was frightening, this openness of hers, this truth that knew no tempering. Well, he could teach her to moderate her tongue. He knew he wouldn’t find it at all difficult to bed her. Yes, he would wed her. But he would wait the week her brother had demanded. But it had to be soon after that. The situation back home was growing worse by the day. She would do just fine. And she’d presented herself to him on a wondrous silver plate. Only a fool would look such a gift-heiress in the mouth. Colin Kinross wasn’t a fool.

He strode over to her, pulled her to her feet, and just looked down at her silently. Then he kissed her lightly on her closed mouth. He wanted more but forced himself not to take any more from her, even though he imagined he could ease her down to the floor this very minute and take her without much fuss. But he didn’t. He would keep himself within safe bounds. He said, “I would like to see you again, despite your brother’s edict. Would you like to go riding tomorrow? We’ll be discreet.”

“I would love to. Douglas will never know. Oh, Colin?”

He turned.

“Will you teach me how to speak Scottish?”

“Aye, and ’twill be my pleasure, lassie.” His voice was lilting and smooth as honey. “Ye’ll be my sweetheart, dinna ye ken?”

“I’ve never been a sweetheart before. It sounds grand.”

All he could do was shake his head at her.


Tags: Catherine Coulter Sherbrooke Brides Historical