The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5

by Catherine Coulter

  Ryder laughed. “Well, we’ll have our answer soon enough. Unless they wish MacPherson to starve, they will have to take him food sometime. Then we will know.”

  “Why did you remain in Edinburgh, Colin?” Douglas asked.

  “To protect my wife,” Colin said simply. “And my children. That morning when she had the cut on her cheek, it was from a bullet ricocheting off a rock and striking her. I couldn’t allow her to remain in Edinburgh with me. I thought she would be safe here, and she was until MacPherson decided to leave Edinburgh and go to ground back here.”

  “What children?” Ryder asked, looking at his brother-in-law blankly.

  “Not again,” Sinjun said. “I have two stepchildren, Philip and Dahling. You will meet them shortly. They will adore you, Ryder, as all children do. They might not even run screaming from you, Douglas, if you would stop your scowling.”

  Douglas was giving Colin a brooding look. Finally he sighed. “There is much here to consider. I think I shall take my wife to bed—so she can rest, naturally—then I would like to meet my new niece and nephew.”

  “Come along, Sophie, you may accompany Alex. If I get you alone, I just might behave in a manner ill-suited to our blissful married state.”

  When Colin and Sinjun were alone, Colin shoved off the mantel and strode over to her. His expression was bland but his eyes, those beautiful dark blue eyes of his, were hot with anger. He sat on the bed beside her. He said nothing, merely leaned down over her, his face inches from hers. He looked into her eyes. Finally he said very quietly, “You have gone too far this time. I will tolerate no more insults from you, no more interference in my affairs. Where is MacPherson?”

  “If I tell you he might be able to hurt you. Please, Colin, can’t I continue with my plan?”

  He leaned back a bit and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me this plan of yours.”

  “I am delivering Robert MacPherson up to the Royal Navy. I understand they aren’t terribly discriminating about who is delivered up to them, whether or not the man wishes to be there or not, you understand.”

  “Oh yes, I understand.” He looked away from her now. “It isn’t a bad plan,” he said mildly. “Which ship of the Royal Navy do you have in mind?”

  “I sent Ostle to Leith to see which ships were available to us. There’s bound to be at least one, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, if not right this minute, then not long from now. However, there is something you couldn’t have known that makes it impractical.”

  “And what is that, pray?”

  He grinned at the rancor in her voice. “The word clan comes from the Gaelic clann and means simply ‘children.’ So you see, the Clan MacPherson are really the children of MacPherson. If you eliminate one of the clan, or children, the others are bound to seek revenge and retribution. If you make the son of the laird disappear, the Kinross clan will be the prime suspects, and there will be violence. It will escalate with scarce any provocation at all. It’s a vicious cycle. Do you understand?”

  Sinjun nodded slowly. “I didn’t realize. Oh dear, what shall I do now, Colin?”

  “First, you will promise me that you will never again take matters into your own white hands. You will never again keep secrets from me. You will never again seek to protect me from any enemies.”

  “That’s a lot to promise, Colin.”

  “You did it before and you lied to me. I will give you another chance, mainly because you’re too weak for me to beat you with any sort of efficacy.”

  “I will promise if you will promise the same thing.”

  “I’ll beat you despite your weakness.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Not really, perhaps fifteen minutes ago I would have thoroughly enjoyed it, but not now. Actually, it was strangulation I was thinking of. I would prefer now to strip that nightgown off you and kiss every inch of you.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh,” he repeated, mimicking her.

  “I think I should like that, at least the kissing part.”

  “I will kiss you once you have told me where MacPherson is so I can deal with this.”

  Sinjun didn’t know what to do. She was frightened for her husband and unfortunately it showed on her face. He said, “Don’t even think it, Joan. Tell me the truth now and tell me all of it. Then you may give me your promise to keep yourself out of my affairs.”

  “He’s in the croft that lies just on the western edge of Craignure Moor.”

  “An excellent hidey-hole. No one goes there. He should be quite enraged by now.”

  “He hasn’t been there all that long, no more than three hours now.”

  “I will see you later,” he said, and rose to stand beside the bed. “I wish you to rest and regain your strength. I’ve realized that keeping away from you wasn’t a good idea. You’re my wife. I will sleep with you tonight and every night for the rest of our lives.”

  “That would be nice,” she said, then began twisting the covers in her long fingers. “I want to go with you, Colin. I want to see this through.”

  He looked at her for a very long time. “Remember I told you the message MacDuff brought to me in Edinburgh? That you had no intention of stealing my box? I looked at him as blankly as a cutpurse caught in the act, and he explained that he’d told you about my father and my brother. I wish he hadn’t, but now it’s done. I also realize, a bit late perhaps, that you want to be important to Vere Castle and to me and to the children. Very well, Joan, you and I will go see Robert MacPherson.”

  “Thank you, Colin.”

  “Let’s wait for another couple of hours. I should like him to be raw-brained with rage.”

  Sinjun grinned at him. To her deep pleasure, he smiled back at her. “I will come back to awaken you. Sleep now.”

  It was a very good start, she thought, watching him leave the bedchamber. An excellent start. She hadn’t the heart to tell him she was quite hungry, not at all sleepy.

  It was close to ten o’clock at night. Sinjun was sitting in her husband’s lap in a deep wing chair that sat facing the fireplace. She was wearing a nightgown and a pale blue dressing gown. Colin was still in his buckskins and white batiste shirt. The evening was cool. Colin had lit a fire and the warmth of it was soothing. Sinjun laid her face against her husband’s shoulder, turning slightly every few moments to kiss his neck.

  “The brothers and wives seem to be speaking to each other again,” Colin said. “I would further say that if Sophie isn’t with child right now, she soon will be. Ryder was looking at her all through dinner like a man starving.”

  “He always looks at her like that, even when he’s furious with her.”

  “She’s a lucky woman.”

  Sinjun looked up at his shadowed jaw. “Perhaps you could look at me like that sometimes.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, and tightened his hold on her. “How do you feel?”

  “Our adventure with Robert MacPherson didn’t tire me out at all.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you slept for two hours upon our return home?”

  “Maybe a little bit,” she conceded. “Do you think he’ll draw off the attack now? Do you think you can believe him?”

  Colin thought back to the hour he and Joan had spent in the dismal little croft with Robert MacPherson. They’d arrived in the middle of the afternoon and he’d allowed her to enter the croft first. She walked like a general leading her troops. He smiled at the back of her head. He was glad he’d brought her with him. Two months before he couldn’t have imagined doing such a thing, but Joan was different; she’d made him see things differently.

  Robert MacPherson was so furious he couldn’t at first speak. He saw her coming through the door of the croft and he wanted to leap upon her and cuff her senseless. Then Colin came in behind her and he froze, frightened for the first time, but he refused to let the bastard see his fear.

  “So,” he said, spitting in the dirt floor in front of him, “it was a lie. You did know about thi
s. You sent your damned wife to get me. You rotter, you damned slimy coward!”

  “Oh no,” Sinjun said quickly. “Colin has come to rescue you from me. I would have given you over to the Royal Navy and let you swab decks until you reformed or got kicked overboard and drowned, but Colin wouldn’t allow it.”

  “You don’t look very comfortable, Robbie,” Colin said, stroking his jaw. MacPherson lunged forward, but only three feet. He was pulled to an ignominious halt by the chains.

  “Get these things off me,” he said, panting with rage.

  “In good time,” Colin said. “First I’d like to talk to you. A pity there are no chairs, Joan. You’re looking just a bit white around your jawline. Sit on the packed dirt and lean back against the wall. That’s right. Now, Robbie, you and I will discuss things.”

  “You bloody murderer! There’s nothing to discuss! Go ahead and kill me. Aye, you do that, you murdering sod. My men will destroy Vere Castle and all your lands. Go ahead!”

  “Why?”

  “What the hell do you mean, why? You killed my sister. You killed poor Dingle.”

  “Oh no, Dingle was killed by another of your own men. As it happens, my son, Philip, witnessed the whole thing. It was a fight about a woman, naturally. Alfie killed him.”

  Robert MacPherson shook his head and said in disgust, “That damned chit! I told them—” He broke off and jerked forward once more against the chains. They held firm. “All right, I will give you that one. Still, you murdered my sister.”

  Sinjun opened her mouth, then closed it. This was up to Colin, and she realized that it was important that she keep still. MacPherson must know now that she loved her husband to distraction, must believe she’d lie for him without hesitation, all true naturally. It was difficult, but she kept quiet, and watched.

  “Your sister died nearly eight months ago. Why didn’t you act immediately against me?”

  “I didn’t believe you’d killed her then. My father was certain you were innocent and I believed him. But then I found out the truth.”

  “Ah,” said Colin. “The truth. Could you tell me the source of this truth?”

  MacPherson looked suddenly crafty. “Why should I? I have no reason to doubt the source. My father wouldn’t either if he had an unconfused thought left in his pathetic brain.”

  “Your father was quite clear in his thinking the last time I visited him,” Colin said. “Go back to Edinburgh and tell him. See if he agrees with you. My guess is that he will laugh at you. I think you’re afraid to tell him, Robbie, afraid of his scorn at your damned credulity. Well? Answer me. No? I will tell you something else. I believe you prefer skulking about in the shadows, hiring your bully boys. I believe you prefer claiming your father is brain-soft and that is only because he won’t agree with you about me. Thus, you want to toss him out with the rubbish. Tell him, Robbie. He’s the MacPherson laird. He’s your father. Trust him, for God’s sake. Now, who told you I killed your sister?”

  “I won’t tell you.”

  “Then how can I allow you to leave here? I don’t wish to die, nor do I wish to have to worry all the time about Joan’s safety and my children’s safety.”

  MacPherson looked at the chafed flesh on his wrists. Chained to the bloody wall like a damned criminal, and all by that ridiculous little chit who sat on the floor, watching him with her wide blue eyes. She’d tricked him; she’d made a fool of him. He pulled his eyes away from her. He stared at Colin Kinross, a man he’d known all his life, a man who was tall and lean and trustworthy, with a man’s strong features, not pretty as he was, a man women adored and sought out. The man Fiona had loved despite her insane jealousy. No one doubted Colin’s virility; oh yes, he’d heard the silly girls giggling about him, his endowments, his skills as a lover. No one questioned that he was less than a man. He felt the jealousy grind into him and looked away. He said, his voice low, “If I promise I won’t attempt to harm either this girl here or your children, will you release me? Good God, man, Philip and Dahling are my nephew and niece! They’re Fiona’s children; I wouldn’t hurt them.”

  “No, I believe that would be beyond even you, Robbie. However, that leaves Joan. She is my wife. She also has this unfortunate habit of trying to save me all the time. It’s appealing when it isn’t enraging.”

  “She should be beaten. She’s only a bloody woman.”

  “I daresay you wouldn’t feel that way were she always on the lookout to keep you safe. Who told you I killed Fiona?”

  “I won’t harm her, damn you!”

  “But you will keep trying to hurt Colin, won’t you?” Sinjun was on her feet now. She felt no charitable leanings toward MacPherson. Were it up to her, she’d leave him chained here until he rotted.

  Colin saw her feelings on her face and grinned at her. He said, “Sit down, Joan. Keep out of this.”

  She subsided, but her brain was working furiously. Who had accused Colin of murder? Aunt Arleth? That seemed a distinct possibility. With him dead, she could do as she pleased. But it made no sense, not really. Aunt Arleth much appreciated the money Sinjun’s dowry had brought to the laird. If I were dead, she would rejoice, Sinjun thought, but Colin? What if Aunt Arleth did hate him enough to want him dead, because she somehow believed he was responsible for his brother’s death? Sinjun felt a headache begin to pound at her over her right temple. It was too much, all of it.

  Colin jumped as a log rolled off, scattering embers out onto the hearth. He was pulled abruptly back from his memories of the afternoon with MacPherson. He hugged his wife closer as she said, nestling closer as she kissed her husband’s throat yet again, “Do you believe him, Colin?” She kissed him again. He tasted warm and salty and utterly wonderful. She could kiss him until she cocked up her toes.

  “I don’t wish to speak of him anymore tonight.”

  “But you let him go! I’m frightened!”

  “You’ll be safe. He swore on his father’s name.”

  “Ha! He is a little weasel, pretty but deadly.”

  “Hush, Joan. I want to kiss you now.” He gently shifted her in his arms and brought his mouth to hers. He tasted of the sweet, darkly mysterious port he’d drunk with Ryder and Douglas after dinner. His mouth was firm and when his tongue came gently between her lips she felt a desire to lock her arms around his neck and never let him go. “That feels wonderful,” she said into his mouth. His tongue touched hers and she squirmed a bit.

  He raised his head and looked at her. “I’ve missed you. Tonight, Joan, you’ll learn pleasure. Will you trust me and cease your babble about my being too large for you?”

  “But you’re still as large as you were, Colin. That can’t change. I still don’t see how it can be at all wonderful for me when you have to come inside me.”

  He just grinned down at her. “Trust me.”

  “I suppose I must, since I want to see your beautiful face every day until I die. You’re very important to me, Colin. You must take good care of yourself. All right?”

  “Yes, and I’ll also take good care of you.”

  He kissed her again and yet again. He continued kissing her, lightly then more deeply, nipping at her lower lip, kissing her until she was gasping and pressing herself against him, her fingers wild in his hair and on his shoulders. He made no move to caress her breasts or touch her anywhere but her back and her arms. Kissing seemed to be the only thing on his mind. Sinjun was very happy about it, for about five minutes.

  She wanted more. It was disconcerting, but she didn’t mind at all. She felt that tugging sensation low in her belly, a sort of burning that was intense yet still vague and indistinct, but she knew there had to be more and she wanted it. She vaguely remembered those feelings now, oh yes, she’d had them before, but they’d vanished when he’d hurt her. She grabbed his hand and pulled it to her stomach. She pressed his palm against her belly. “I feel very strange,” she said into his mouth, her breath warm, her voice hoarse. She began to kiss him wildly, without restraint, her hands in his ha
ir, stroking his face and shoulders.

  “Yes, I can feel that you do,” he said. His fingers didn’t move for the longest time, merely rested lightly on her stomach. But he continued to kiss her until she moaned into his mouth. Then his fingers slipped slowly downward. Sinjun sucked in her breath, waiting. She felt frantic, and very very warm. She felt as if there was something wonderful waiting for her, and it was close now, very close.

  “Colin,” she said, and moaned into his mouth.

  “What would you like now, Joan?”

  CHAPTER

  18

  COLIN HAD A strategy and he had no intention of allowing himself to forget it or modify it. No, he had no intention of losing his control. No, tonight he was going to make his wife want him desperately, then he would see.

  She was getting close and he was both delighted and immensely relieved.

  He continued to kiss her. She was warm and soft and urgent and he wanted very much to cover her with his fingers, to ease inside of her, to feel her around him, to feel the softness and warmth of her. But he held off. No, let it build within her, this passion he would continue to inflame, until she was moaning with it, then yelling. He closed his eyes, trying to picture her face when her pleasure took her.

  “I want—” she began, then touched her tongue to his and gasped.

  “Yes, I’ll give you that,” he said, and deepened his kiss. His fingertips were lightly cupped over her, but not moving, not caressing her, just lying there.

  Sinjun wondered what was happening. She remembered that he’d been a wild man before and he’d hurt her. She realized dimly that he was being very careful with her, very restrained. Did he believe her still weak from her illness?

  No, he didn’t want to scare her off again. She smiled against his wonderful mouth. She said quite without thought or hesitation, “I love you, Colin. I loved you from the first moment I saw you. I think you’re the most remarkable man in Scotland.”

  He jerked at her words. He felt something move deep inside him, something he’d never felt before in his life, something hot and frantic, yet strangely gentle and tender. It scared the hell out of him. At first. Then he eased, allowing the feelings into himself, and her words. Yes, her words. He would think about it later. He kissed her again, tasting the sweetness of her mouth, and kissed her three more times before saying, “Only Scotland?”