The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5 (88 page)

“You will also bring her to visit her family early next fall. Is it possible, do you think?”

Colin thought for a moment, then nodded. “You have now given me the means to recover myself, my home, and my lands. There is much for me to do. However, all should be in good order by the fall.”

“All the money was rightfully Sinjun’s, not mine. I’m glad it will be put to good use. I personally hate to see an estate fall into ruin.”

“Perhaps,” Colin said slowly, looking toward the two magnificent Arabian stallions who were blowing and snorting, one held by Angus and the other by a clearly frightened stable lad, “you would wish to come and visit us sometime in the future. After, of course, Vere Castle has been refurbished a bit. The drive to the castle is very beautiful, all tree-lined, and now, in the early summer, the leaves form a canopy overhead.”

“No doubt we would be pleased to,” Douglas said. “Ryder can bring all the children.”

“I like children,” Colin said. “Vere Castle is a large place, surely there are enough rooms to house all of you.”

Then Douglas and Ryder were gone, with one last wave, riding down the cobblestoned street, their great coats billowing out behind them.

Sinjun stood there on the street, watching them, feeling more miserable than she could remember. She wouldn’t allow that misery to remain clogged in her heart and in her mind; no matter this sex business, she was married to Colin. Ryder was right. She must be patient. After all, she adored her husband, despite what he’d done to her. She would deal with it. There was much to be done. She wasn’t one to lie down and moan her distress. Of course, in the past there never had been much distress to consider moaning about.

She turned then and smiled at her husband, not really much of a smile, but an honest effort at one. “I should like another cup of tea. Would you?”

“Yes, Joan, I believe I would.” He fell into step beside her. “I like your brothers.”

She was silent a moment, then said with desperate cheerfulness, “Yes, I rather do, too.”

“I know you will miss them. We’ll see them soon, I promise you.”

“Yes, you promise.”

He gave her a quick look but said nothing.

T
HE DOCK ON
the Firth of Forth was a nasty place, smelling of fish in all stages of rot, unwashed bodies of yelling stevedores, and other odors she couldn’t, thankfully, identify. It was filled with so many carts and drays and boats of every size in the water that it was difficult to see why they hadn’t all crashed into each other. In that moment, two drays did collide, tipping an oak barrel off the end of one of the drays. It bounced hard on the cobblestones and then rolled, picking up more speed, until it slammed into an iron railing, cracking wide open. Rich dark ale spilled out, filling the air with its pungent smell. Sinjun smiled and sniffed. She supposed the London docks were much the same, but she’d never been to see them. Colin took her elbow, saying nothing, and directed her to a ferry that looked to be on its last legs, had it been a horse. It was a long, narrow barge with unpainted wooden railings, and its name was
Forth Star,
surely an ambitious title for such a scrawny boat. The horses were already on board, standing very close to the people, and not happy about it. The ferry was owned by an old man who had the foulest mouth Sinjun had ever heard. He cursed at the people, at the animals, at all the valises and trunks. He even yelled at the opposite bank of the Forth. Sinjun
regretted that she could only understand just a bit of what he said. She did see Colin wince several times when the old man got bitten in the shoulder by a horse and yelled his displeasure to all within three miles.

When the ferry got under way, Sinjun watched with horrified eyes, knowing it had to run into other boats. One ship from Holland came within scraping distance. Another from Spain was so close the sailors were leaning over the sides with long poles to push any boat away that came too close. Nothing seemed to bother Colin—natural, she supposed, because he was, after all, a Scot, and none of this was new to him. Even the horses started blowing loudly in the salty clean air. Thank God it was a beautiful day, warm and balmy, the sun high in a cloud-strewn sky. As they neared the other side of the Forth, she saw that the Fife Peninsula seemed from here to look every bit as English as Sussex. The green was soft and pure and deep, and the hills were rolling and gentle. It was lovely, and Sinjun felt a stirring of enthusiasm. At that moment, the
Forth Star
hit another small barge. The two captains howled at each other, the horses whinnied, and the people shook their fists. Sinjun tried not to laugh as she yelled at the other captain herself.

The ferry crossed at the narrowest point, called the Queensferry Narrows, not a beautiful spot, for the water looked thick and dirty and swirled about the barge. Ah, but looking toward the east, to the North Sea, was beautiful.

Colin said unexpectedly, “At this point the Forth is a long tidal estuary. The river itself begins nearly all the way to the western sea. It’s a mighty river there, deep and so blue it makes you want to cry.
Then it narrows and meanders over a flat peaty wilderness to Stirling.”

Sinjun breathed in deeply. She nodded at his offering, then turned back to lean her elbows on the railing. She was afraid of missing something. She also didn’t particularly wish to speak to her husband.

“If you turn about you can see the Castle. It is clear today and the view is rather spectacular.”

Sinjun obligingly turned and looked. “I thought it more mysterious, more ethereal perhaps, last evening, when it was shrouded halfway up in fog. Every once in a while you could hear the soldiers yelling and it seemed like ghost voices coming out of the gray mist. Wonderfully gothic.”

Colin grunted at that and turned back to look down at the swirling waters. “You will have to accustom yourself to the mists. Even in summer we can go weeks at a time without the sun. But it is warm and it stays light enough to read even at midnight.”

Sinjun brightened at that. “You have a well-stocked library, Colin, at Vere Castle?”

“The library is a mess, as is most everything else. My brother didn’t particularly care, and since his death I haven’t had time to see to things. You will have to go through it and see if there is anything that interests you. I also have a library of sorts in my tower room.”

“Perhaps you have some novels?” Her hopeful voice made him smile.

“Very few, I’m afraid,” he said. “Remember, you’re deep in Presbyterian country. Hellfire would surely await anyone so ill-advised as to read a novel. Try to imagine John Knox enjoying a Mrs. Radcliffe novel. It boggles the mind.”

“Well, hopefully Alex will send me all my books when she sends us our trunks.”

“If your brother didn’t order all our things burned first.”

“A possibility,” Sinjun said. “When Douglas is angry, he can do the most awesome things.”

Sinjun hoped the trunks would arrive soon. She was perilously close to having very little to wear. Even her blue riding habit, of which she was inordinately fond, was looking sadly distressed. She swiped the dust off her sleeve as she looked at her fellow passengers. Most were country people, dressed in rough homespun woolens of dull colors, and clogs and open leather vests. There was one aristocratic fellow with very high shirt points who looked a bit green from the swaying of the barge. There was another man who looked to be a prosperous merchant, who kept spitting over the side of the barge, his teeth as brown as his spittle. And the speech, it wasn’t English, even though Sinjun could understand most of it. It was filled with slurring and lilting sounds that were melodic and coarse all at the same time.

Sinjun didn’t say anything else to her husband. At least he was trying to be pleasant, as was she. But she didn’t want to be pleasant. She wanted to hit him. She looked at his profile, drawn to look at him really, because he was so beautiful. His black hair was blowing in the gentle breeze. His chin was up and his eyes were closed in that moment, as if he were reaffirming that he was a Scot and he was home. A sea gull flew perilously close, squawking in his face. He threw back his head and laughed deeply.

She wasn’t home. She stuck her chin up as high as his was. She breathed in the sea air, the nearly overpowering smell of fish and people and horses. She looked at the terns and the gulls and the oystercatchers. They were all putting on a grand
show, hoping for scraps from the passengers.

“We will ride to Vere Castle today,” Colin said. “It will take us about three hours, no more. The sun is shining and thus it will be pleasant. Ah, do you think you will be able to do it?”

“Certainly. It’s strange you would ask. You know I’m an excellent rider.”

“Yes, but that was before. I mean, you’re not too sore, are you?”

She turned slowly to face him. “You sound very pleased with yourself. How odd.”

“I’m not at all pleased. I’m concerned. You’re obviously hearing what you want to hear, not what’s there.”

“There is a wealth of conceit in your tone. All right, Colin, what if I said I was too sore? What would you do? Hire a litter, perhaps? Put a sign around my neck reading that I was unable to ride because I’d been plowed too much—like an overused barley field?”

“An analogy that is perhaps amusing but nothing more. No, if you were too sore, I would carry you before me. You would rest on my thighs and ease the pain you perhaps might be feeling.”

“I would prefer to ride by myself, thank you, Colin.”

“As you wish, Joan.”

“I would also prefer that we had not yet left Edinburgh.”

“You have already expressed yourself at some length on that subject. I’ve told you why we left so quickly. There is danger and I don’t want you exposed to it. I am taking you to Vere Castle. I will return to Edinburgh. There is much that both of us need to do.”

“I don’t really want to be left alone in a castle with people I don’t know, Colin.”

“Since you are the mistress, what should it matter? If something displeases you, you may discuss changing it with me when I return. You may even make lists, and I will certainly review them.”

“I sound like your child, not your wife. If a servant displeases me, do I dismiss the servant or just add it to the list so that the master—”

“I’m the laird.”

“ . . . so that the laird may review it like a judge and issue forth a decision?”

“You are the countess of Ashburnham.”

“Ah, and what does that entail, other than making lists and learning how to plead my cases before you?”

“You are being purposefully annoying, Joan. Look at that bird, it’s a dunlin. On your English coast you call them sandpipers.”

“How knowledgeable you are. Did you know they get a black stripe on their bellies when they wish to mate? No? Well, they certainly didn’t do all that well with your education at Oxford, did they? But perhaps some of it was your fault. You spent far too much time tupping all your ladies at the inn in Chipping Norton.”

“Your memory is lamentable. Tupping is crude. You won’t use it again. Your tongue also runs too smoothly, Joan, so smoothly that you are in danger of being tossed overboard.”

She continued, not hesitating, “Now, let me present my only item to you—the judging laird. I wish to remain with you. I’m your wife, despite everything.”

“What do you mean, despite everything? Are you referring to your less than wonderful experience in our marriage bed? All right, so you weren’t that pleased with the result of our union. You are small and I was too enthusiastic. I shouldn’t have forced
it that third time. I have apologized to you several times. I have told you it will get better. Can you not trust me?”

“No. You will remain as you are, and that is too rough and too big.”

“A bit salty of tongue now, aren’t you?”

“Oh, go to the devil, Colin!”

“Have you looked at your face, Joan? ’Tis still red from the stone that slashed across it. That was a bullet. You could have been hurt, killed even. You will stay at Vere Castle until I have seen that it will stop and that you will be in no more danger.”

“But I didn’t even get to visit Edinburgh Castle!”

“Since you will live in Scotland for the rest of your life, I daresay that you will see the Castle as often as you wish.”

“The MacPhersons live in Edinburgh?”

“No, they are some fifteen miles from my lands, but the old laird is there, I was told. They’ve a comfortable house near the Parliament Building. I must see him. There are also, as I’ve already told you several times, many things for me to see to. Bankers and builders to speak to. New furnishings to consider. Sheep to buy and have transported to Vere and—”

He fell silent when she simply turned away from him. Damn him, as if she didn’t care about new furnishings, new stock for the land, new plans for building. But no, he was excluding her. She’d already given him all her arguments. None seemed to matter.

She sat down on a valise. It collapsed under her weight and she remained seated on the smashed-down valise, and tucked her legs under her. She said nothing more to her husband. At least he hadn’t attacked her again before they’d left Kinross House. She was sore, very sore, but she would never admit it
to him. She would ride and she wouldn’t say a word, not if it killed her, which she hoped it wouldn’t.

An hour later they had debarked from the
Forth Star
and were on their way to Kinross land and Vere Castle, their valises strapped on the backs of their saddles.

“Perhaps later in the summer we can travel into the Highlands. The scenery is dramatic. It is like going from a calm lake into a stormy sea; everything is churned about, its civilized trappings stripped away. You will like it.”

“Yes,” Sinjun said, her voice abrupt. She hurt from the horse’s gait. She was an excellent rider but the pain was something out of her experience, and no matter how she shifted her position, the saddle seemed to grind into her.

Colin looked over at her. She was staring straight between her horse’s ears, her chin high, as it had been now for the past two days. She was wearing the same dark blue riding habit she’d worn since she’d begun riding beside him during their elopement, a beautiful, starkly fashioned outfit that suited her, for she was tall and elegant, this wife of his, and pale-skinned, her hair tucked neatly beneath the matching blue velvet riding hat, the ostrich feather curling gently around her right cheek. It was dusty and looked a bit worse for wear, but still, he liked it. Now that he had money, he would be able to buy her lovely things. He thought of her long white legs, the sleek muscles of her thighs, and his guts knotted.

“We will stop for lunch at an inn near Lanark. You can have your first real taste of our local dishes. Agnes at Kinross House has always fancied herself above all our native dishes. Her mother was Yorkshire-bred, you know, and thus it is English beef and boiled potatoes for her, quite good but not Scottish. Perhaps you can try some broonies.”

He was trying, she’d give him that, but she didn’t care at the moment. She simply hurt too much. “How far is the inn?”

“Two miles or so.”

Two miles! She didn’t think she would make another two feet. The road was well worn, wide, surrounded by rolling hills and more larch and pine trees than she could begin to count. There were farms and carefully tilled lands, reminding her of England, and grazing cattle. They were riding northward through the Fife Peninsula that lay between the Firth of Forth and the Firth of Tay, Colin had told her earlier, a region protected from the Highlanders from the north and the English invaders from the south, which had thus been the historical cradle for religion and authority. Again, she recognized that the land was beautiful, and again, she simply didn’t care.