The Heiress Bride

  He was miserably unhappy, but he nodded, the sweet guineas piled thick in his pocket, tipping the scales against telling the laird what was up.

  Unfortunately, due to the depletion of the Kinross stables, there was only one other mare suitable for a lady to ride.

  “Very well,” Sinjun said after a moment. “I’ll ride Argyll, Sophie will take Fanny, and Alex, I’m sorry, but you will have to ride Carrot.”

  Carrot, a very docile swaybacked mare of ten years, looked at Alex, blew loudly, and nodded her long head.

  “We’ll do,” Alex said. A horsewoman of some renown, she was delighted.

  “Er, m’lady, Argyll bain’t be in a sporting mood t’day, nay, he bain’t. His lordship was going t’ ride him, saw that he was nastiness hisself, and rode Gulliver instead. Nay mere than ten minutes ago his lordship left.”

  Gulliver was the bay Colin kept in Edinburgh. Gulliver was the bay he rode back with Philip because he’d been so worried about her. She gulped and said, “Well, nasty or not, it’s Argyll for me. Ten minutes, hmmm. Do hurry, Ostle, and don’t worry, all will be well.”

  She’d never before ridden Colin’s stallion—lord, she thought as she swung up on his broad back, he could outrace the rain in a storm. She prayed Colin wouldn’t notice he was missing. But if he did, it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t know which direction they’d taken. Ostle wouldn’t be here to question. She drew a deep breath and dug her heels into Argyll’s muscled sides.

  Short minutes later they were galloping smoothly down the long tree-lined drive of Kinross Castle, the summer air warm and soft on their faces, slivers of bright sunlight slicing through the dense canopy of green leaves overhead.

  “It is so beautiful here,” Sophie said, craning back to see the castle on its rise at the end of the long drive.

  “Yes,” said Sinjun, and gulped. “Colin said one of his ancestors—the one who is painted naked—planted all the trees. They’re very lovely. Of course, there aren’t any gardens like yours at Northcliffe, Alex.”

  “Perhaps not, but these trees. I shall do it at Northcliffe Hall,” Alex said. “What do you think—pines and birches and oaks?”

  Sinjun knew both of them were scared to death of her plan and scared for her. Alex was babbling about trees; Sophie was looking grim as a defeated general, staring straight between her Fanny’s ears. Sinjun said nothing. She was set on her course. She directed them immediately off the narrow road. No tracks for Colin to follow if he happened to be in this exact spot and so inclined.

  They rode steadily, not speaking now, staying close to Sinjun’s stallion, Argyll, who seemed pleased as could be to have her on his back. Not a bit of trouble did he cause her, which was fortunate, because Sinjun didn’t want to deplete her store of strength on a damned recalcitrant horse.

  Sinjun called for them to halt in another mile. They were near the barren Craignure Moor. “The MacPherson castle—St. Monance—is but seven miles, over this desolate stretch, then into the Aviemore Hills. I know a short way around—I asked Ostle. We’ll be there in an hour. Are both of you ready for this? Are you certain?”

  “I don’t like it at all, Sinjun,” Sophie said, “and neither does Alex. There must be another way. It was easier to talk about and agree to than it is now, actually doing it. It’s dangerous. Anything could happen.”

  Sinjun shook her head. “I’ve thought and thought. The last thing I want is to have him come across me or Colin by accident, or by design, for that matter. He’s already tried to kill Colin once, and possibly twice; the second time I was hurt by mistake.” Their breaths hitched, for she hadn’t told them about the attempt in Edinburgh, and she continued inexorably, “No, I must be the one in control, the one with a plan. We will take him by surprise. I know there are problems with this, unknowns, if you will, but I couldn’t think of anything else. It will work. You must trust me on this. Ostle will find out what we need to know in Edinburgh. It won’t take many more days, probably two at the most. Even if the husbands do arrive, why, then I will simply sneak away and finish things off. Then let Colin yell and pound the furniture with his fists if he discovers what I’ve done. It won’t matter. Indeed, I shall enjoy hearing him carry on because I know he’ll now be safe. Now, my dears, let’s go.”

  “Your husband will yell and pound the furniture and then he’ll kill all of us.”

  “I will lie to him and he will know it, but how will he ever guess the truth?”

  “What lie have you planned to tell him to explain your absence and ours?” Alex asked. She held up her hand. “You see, Sinjun, there’s today and then yet another day to deal with, and perhaps even another and another after that. The scheduling of this is difficult, even without the husbands’ interference. Now, what will you tell Colin?”

  “Truth be told, I haven’t the faintest idea now, but with Colin yelling at me, I doubt not that something wonderful will spring to mind. It always does. First things first. Let’s go.” Argyll galloped forward, spewing pebbles in his wake.

  They rode hard and saw very few people. The deeper they rode into the hills, the more difficult the going became. Purple heather sprang up thick from between sharp-edged rocks, giving the landscape a savage beauty.

  “You’re certain this is a shorter route?” Alex asked.

  Sinjun nodded. “Nearly there.”

  Actually, St. Monance Castle, home of the MacPherson clan, was set at the very end of the Pilchy Loch, a narrow body of water that had grown thinner during the past century. There were trees aplenty surrounding the loch, sufficient arable land that Sinjun could see. Unlike Vere Castle, St. Monance looked its age. Because it was summer, there were brilliant flowers about, softening the ravages of time, but there were more weeds than blossoms, and everything looked untended and uncared for. Everything looked weathered and poor. It was what Crocker had told her. The weathered gray stone had crumbled or caved in at many places on the castle walls. Once there had been a moat, but now there were only tall weeds and a swampy area that stank nearly as badly as the Cowal Swamp in the warm morning air.

  “This place desperately needs another heiress, Sinjun.”

  “From what I’ve learned, nearly every Scottish clan needs a huge ration of money, particularly the Highland clans. We’re lucky here in Fife. There is arable land aplenty, so there is no question about sheep being brought up and the people shoved off their land, which is what is happening in the Highlands. Why the MacPhersons are poor, I don’t know. Goodness, I’m starting to babble like you, Alex.” Sinjun drew a deep breath. “I do hope that Robert MacPherson is here. Now, as you know, I told him in my letter that I would be alone, and that I would be here this morning. If he isn’t here, well, then I’ve failed. Keep your fingers crossed. Stay here and keep hidden. With any luck I’ll have him with me very soon. Now, I need the two of you to assure me that a man would just look at me and become cross-eyed with lust.”

  “At least cross-eyed,” Sophie said, and she meant it.

  This was the part of the plan that both Sophie and Alex had serious qualms about, but Sinjun seemed so very sure of herself. “Ostle swore he delivered the letter,” she said. They looked at each other but could think of no more to say. They pulled to a halt in the midst of birch and fir trees and prepared to wait. “If you aren’t back with him within a half hour, we’re coming in to fetch you,” Alex told her.

  Sinjun rode directly to the front of the castle. Chickens and goats and dogs scattered before Argyll. There were perhaps a dozen men and women about outside, and they stopped their tasks to watch the lady ride up.

  She saw two men look at her, then disappear through the great iron-studded front doors. She pulled Argyll to a stop at the bottom stone step and smiled at the people around her.

  To her wondrous relief, Robert MacPherson appeared in the open doorway. He stood there and simply stared at her. Slowly, saying nothing, he strode down the deeply pitted stone steps, stopping when he was on eye level with her.

  “So,” he s
aid, his arms crossed over his chest. “You came. My question, my lady, is why you would come to my lair all alone, and no fear in those beautiful eyes of yours?”

  He was so pretty, she thought, each of his features so finely drawn, from the perfect arch of his fair eyebrows to the thin aristocratic nose. His eyes were just as beautiful as her Sherbrooke blue eyes, surely. She contented herself with simply staring at him for a few moments longer.

  “Come ride with me,” she said.

  Robert MacPherson threw his head back and laughed. “You think me that witless? Doubtless your husband is over there, yon, in the birch trees, waiting with a dozen men to shoot me down.”

  “You weave that notion from cobwebs. You truly believe Colin Kinross so lacking in honor that he would send his own wife to fetch his enemy to him?”

  “No,” MacPherson said slowly, “Colin has too much pride to do that. It’s not a question of honor. It’s an arrogant man you married, my dear, overly proud and vicious. He would come himself, ride up to my door as you have done, and challenge me.”

  “So you are also saying he is fearless?”

  “No, his unbridled vanity leads him into stupidity. He would probably die without understanding how it could happen. Have you come to challenge me?”

  “You have misunderstood my letter, then? My trip here was for naught?”

  “Oh no, I understood your every word, dear lady. I will say that your servant nearly relieved himself in his breeches he was so afraid. But not you. That interests me. But, truth be told, it doesn’t seem plausible to me that you would want to see me. Our last encounter didn’t leave me with the impression that you wished my company again. Indeed, our last encounter made me rather angry with you. It was a long walk.”

  “It was your own fault. You underestimated me because I am a woman. You were, frankly, a boor. You should not have tried to force yourself on me or threaten me. I don’t take kindly to such things. I’m now offering you a chance to improve your manners and gain a new friend, perhaps.”

  “Ah, that is what fascinates me. Why?”

  Sinjun leaned down in her saddle toward him. She said softly, her breath warm on his face, her eyes as blue as the cloudless sky, “You’re too pretty for a man. It has teased me, this prettiness of yours. I want to see if you are a real man beneath those britches of yours, or a pretty boy prancing about in a man’s body.”

  His eyes narrowed in fury. He grabbed her, but she gently raised her hand, the pistol not six inches from his face.

  “I told you I didn’t appreciate boors, sir. Now, will you prove yourself to me? What is it to be—a pretty boy or a man with a man’s desires?”

  Now she saw lust spring to life in his eyes, raw and deep. She’d practiced this so many times during the past day and she’d won, but it was terrifying.

  “How do I know you won’t take me into the woods and shoot me with that pretty little pistol?”

  She smiled at him. “You don’t.”

  He studied her face a moment longer. “You’re a bit pale now. Perhaps you are a bit frightened?”

  “A bit. After all, you could have your men hidden about to shoot me. But it would sorely hurt your reputation were you to kill a woman. On the other hand, who knows? And I have always thought life should be experienced to the fullest and if there are no risks, then why bother? Do you have men hidden about?”

  “No. As you said, you’re only a woman. You’re also an Englishwoman, an earl’s daughter. I’ve never met another woman like you. You fascinate me. Why did you marry Colin if you didn’t want him? You’ve been married two months, isn’t that right?”

  “Perhaps you’ve also heard that of that time, we’ve spent very few days—and nights—together. He remains in Edinburgh and I am stuck here in that moldering castle of his. I’m bored, sir, and you appear to be something out of the ordinary. I knew you were different from Colin the moment I saw you. You are quite pretty, you know.”

  He gave her a brooding look, saying finally, “Come to the stable. I will get my horse and then, my dear, I will take you to this special place and show you that a man can have a pretty face and be endowed with splendid attributes as well.”

  “As splendid as Colin?”

  He stiffened, taut as a poker.

  “I could say many things about my husband, but the fact is that he is every inch a man. It’s just that he doesn’t care about me, just my money.”

  “He is nothing,” MacPherson said at last. “I will prove it to you shortly.”

  Sinjun sincerely doubted that could be true, but she held her tongue. She wanted him to come with her, not howl with fury and try to knock her from her horse. The last thing she wanted to do was to have to shoot him here on his own lands. It didn’t seem the politic thing to do.

  Ten minutes later Robert MacPherson was surrounded by three ladies on horseback, each of them pointing a pistol at him. He turned to Sinjun. “So, I see I was right.”

  “Not at all. Colin knows nothing about this. You see, Colin has much too much honor just to hunt you down like the wretch you are and do away with you. Thus, sir, we three have decided to remove the burden from his shoulders. I cannot allow you to try to harm him again. You really shouldn’t have tried to kill him in London or in Edinburgh. You really shouldn’t have burned our crofters’ huts and killed our people.

  “You will pay for your crimes and it will give me vast relief to have you long gone from here. Incidentally, my husband didn’t kill your sister. If he wouldn’t kill a vermin like you, why then, how can you possibly believe that he would ever harm a woman who was his wife?”

  “She bored him. He was tired of her.”

  “Perhaps you have a point. After all, after only two meetings, you bore me quite beyond reason. However, even though I am tempted to toss you off a cliff, I won’t, even though in addition to being a boor, you’re a bully and a sneak and a man who knows no honor. I understand from Colin that your father is a good man and I wouldn’t want to distress him overly. Enough of this. Alex, Sophie, I’ve said my piece. Shall we tie him to his horse?”

  Colin was at first utterly confused, then so furious he wanted to spit and curse at the same time, something that wasn’t easily accomplished.

  He stood in front of his son and said in a voice so angry it sounded calm, far too calm, “You are telling me that your stepmother and your two aunts are out wandering about the estate?”

  “That’s what Sinjun told me, Papa. She said she felt wonderful and wanted to show them around. I asked her where you were and . . . she didn’t tell me the truth, I guess.”

  “You bloody well mean she lied! Damn her eyes, I’ll beat her, I’ll lock her in my bedchamber, I’ll—”

  “My lord,” Dr. Childress said, touching his age-spotted hand to Colin’s sleeve. “What is amiss here? The countess isn’t ill after all?”

  “My wife,” Colin said between his teeth, “pretended to be very ill, all to get me out of the way. Damnation! What is she up to?”

  He was silent for several moments, then slapped his palm to his forehead. “How could I be so stupid?”

  He turned on his heel and raced for Gulliver, who was chomping contentedly on some of Aunt Arleth’s white roses beside the front steps.

  Philip said to the doctor, “I fear my mother has enraged my father. I’d best go after him and protect her. Forgive us, sir.” And Philip raced after his father.

  Dr. Childress stood alone, bemused, listening to the boy’s footsteps echo off the entrance hall stones. He’d known Colin since the moment he’d slipped from his mother’s womb. He’d watched him grow straight and tall and proud. He’d watched his father and his older brother try to kill the spirit in him, and fail, thank the good Lord. He said aloud, his voice pensive, “I fear the young lady has unleashed a tiger.”

  The tiger pulled to a stop in the cover of some fir trees and stared toward St. Monance Castle. Gulliver was blowing hard, and as Colin watched the castle he gently patted his stallion’s neck. “
You’re a good old fellow, aren’t you, Gull? Well, you’re in a damn sight better position than my wife, who isn’t going to like the way her day proceeds after I get my hands on her. Another thing,” he continued to his horse, “Ostle is gone, supposedly ill and back in his bed. I don’t think that sounds at all believable. Another thing, that fool wife of mine had the gall to take Argyll.” He shuddered even as he said those words to his horse. Gulliver paid no heed, just shook his head to get the flies off.

  Colin couldn’t make out anything unusual at St. Monance Castle. MacPherson folk were going about their tasks. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary, no massing of men, no shouting, nothing at all unusual.

  What had Joan and the wives planned to do? That stymied him. What was she plotting? Had she indeed come here?

  He realized after another ten minutes of quite boring observations that he was wasting his time. Unless he intended to ride up to the big iron-studded doors of St. Monance and demand to know where his wife was, then sitting here like a blind fool would gain him naught. His fear and fury at his wife had made him act without thinking.

  Where the devil was Joan? Where were the wives?

  He drew a deep breath, turned Gulliver, and stared at his son, who was sitting there astride his pony, quiet as could be. Colin said nothing. He hadn’t even heard Philip ride up. He was in bad shape. He shook his head. Together, father and son rode thoughtfully back to Vere Castle.

  He supposed he wasn’t overly surprised to see all three horses returned to the stables, in their stalls, eating their heads off. It was obvious to the meanest eye that they’d been ridden hard. Damn her eyes. Argyll looked up at him and stared, as if to say, “She really did it this time, my good man.”

  Colin grinned, but it wasn’t an amused grin. He was ready to kill. What the devil had she done? And she’d ridden that damned horse, curse her eyes.

  He strode to the house, his riding crop slashing against his thigh in rhythm to his walk.