The Scottish Bride (3 page)

“Blessed Lord above,” Tysen said, startled. “Where did you ever hear such a thing, Leo? Rat-faced? That's quite offensive; contrive to forget it immediately. The little idiot part as well.”

“That's difficult to do, Papa, since Meggie called him that when she was angry with him. It was just yesterday that—”

Tysen closed his eyes. “Your sister called you a rat-faced little idiot?”

“Yes,” Leo said, then dropped his chin to his chest. “Perhaps I deserved it, Papa. Meggie's face was very red, and for the longest time she couldn't think of anything to say to me, and then that just popped out of her mouth. Then she shook her fist at me. But at least she didn't smack me in the head or throw me in the bushes
like she usually does. She just walked away and slammed a door.”

“May I inquire what you said to your sister to deserve such an epithet?”

Max said, “Leo cut a wide strip out of the back of her skirt and her petticoat. When she walked, you could see her drawers. Marigold finally realized what everyone was staring at and ran screaming after her before she could get too far outside the vicarage gate.”

Tysen thought, You are indeed a rat-faced little idiot, Leo, but naturally he didn't say that. He said very quietly, “I am vastly disappointed in you, Leo. The good Lord can only imagine what your mother would have said.”

Max said matter-of-factly, “Mother would have shrieked, pounded the wall with her fists, and had hysterics for at least two hours. Leo prefers Meggie's punishments. Why, just two days ago, she took Leo's neck between her hands and nearly squeezed the life out of him.” Max was silent for a moment, then said, “About Mother and hysterics, that's what Mrs. Priddie said Mother would do whenever one of us didn't mind. I don't remember, myself.”

Tysen didn't remember the pounding fists, but he did remember the hysterics. He said, “I will not be here to enforce your punishment, Leo, but here it is. You will not stand on your head for six days. You will not do any flips down the corridors of Northcliffe Hall. You will not cut anything at all with your scissors. You will treat your sister like a royal princess. Do you understand me?”

Leo bowed his head. “Yes, Papa. I understand.”

Max looked perplexed for a moment, but the look was gone so quickly that Tysen wasn't at all sure he'd even seen it. “You boys will obey your aunt and uncle. You will enjoy yourselves when it is allowed. You will not
accept any gifts from young ladies who come to Northcliffe Hall to bestow them on your cousins or your aunt and uncle.” Then he hugged both of them and even patted Leo's head.

He heard Leo say to Max as he closed the bedchamber door, “Papa didn't say anything about me not standing on my head at night—he just said six days.”

“Leo,” Max said, “you will surely go to hell.”

“No, Papa wouldn't allow that,” Leo said. “Why couldn't Papa at least inherit a title that would make us lords? Surely there must be a dukedom lying about not being used. We'll be just the same. Maybe Uncle Douglas has an extra title or two hidden away in some old book that he doesn't need.”

“Uncle Douglas,” Max said in his lecturer's voice that drove both Leo and Meggie right over the brink, “has only one extra title, and James has it. You know that. He's a viscount—Lord Hammersmith—because Uncle Douglas is an earl and he doesn't need it anymore. Well, no, actually, he's also a baron of some sort. I don't remember the name.”

Leo said, “Poor Jason. He's nothing at all. He's as bad off as we are.”

Tysen was smiling, he couldn't help it, even though he knew he should give a token frown. He didn't sleep well that night. He'd looked briefly into Meggie's bedchamber, but all the lights were off and she was obviously asleep. He hated to disappoint her, but there wasn't a place for a little girl on this trip. The good Lord only knew what awaited him in Scotland. He looked forward to seeing Sinjun and Colin and their children.

He left the following morning at dawn, his driver Rufus and a stable lad tiger as his to ride behind the carriage and pay all the tolls, both provided by his brother and both sharp at their positions. His own gelding, Big Blue,
was tied to the back of the carriage under the watchful eye of the tiger, whose unlikely name, Rufus had told him, was Pride.

He didn't realize that his tiger wasn't really one of Douglas's stable lads until they were in Edinburgh five and a half days later.

 

Taurum per cornua prehende.

Take the bull by the horns.

 
 

August 22, 1815

 

I
T HAD BEEN
a long journey. Tysen was riding Big Blue when at last they entered Edinburgh. He had written nine sermons in his head during those five and a half days, and he had to admit, in his more objective moments, that none of them was presentable enough for God's hearing. They were, he thought, looking at the mighty castle soaring upward from its craggy ridge in the center of the city, rather—no, he didn't want to say it. Oh, very well. Truth be told, they were boring. They nearly made him nod off to sleep. Talk of hell's fires kept the congregation alert, but it never made him feel exalted when he was done, and thus he rarely threatened his flock with brimstone. But these nine sermons, they'd been bland, touching on this or that without much rhyme or reason to any of them. One of them did dwell perhaps overly much on the necessity for a woman's obedience. He thought of Meggie and shook his head at that. Then he thought of Melinda Beatrice and felt guilty.

They had both been so very young, so very much in love with each other, and they saw only a life that was narrow, yet filled with hope and goodness and an endless desire to be of service to God. At least that was what he had wanted. He sighed.

Tysen heard a boy whistle and waved to him. He remembered Edinburgh, but now he saw it through a man's eyes, not a child's. The Castle, he thought, oh, how Meggie would have enjoyed the Castle. No, what he'd done was correct. For heaven's sake, it had rained a full four days on the journey up here. Today, at least, it had ceased raining early in the morning. The sun now glistened overhead, and it was so clear he knew he would be able to see the smudged mountains on the horizon beyond the Lothian plain and the Firth of Forth if he were standing on the Castle ramparts. He clicked Big Blue around a crowd of people who looked to be surly for some reason, and waved his carriage behind him toward the road to New Town, north of the castle. Literally dredged from a malodorous swamp, New Town was a masterpiece, with all the magnificent gardens and squares surrounded by splendid Georgian buildings. He had no idea if Sinjun would be at their residence here in the city. Regardless, he knew Old Angus would let him spend the night. At the west end of George Street, they finally reached Charlotte Square. Another left turn, and they were in Abbotsford Crescent. Kinross House was located directly in the middle, opposite a small, very green park. It was a tall, skinny house, older than its neighbors, but it looked immaculate, flowers planted everywhere, the paint fresh, the shutters hanging straight and proud. There was a new slate roof, if he wasn't mistaken. The rectangular lawn was freshly scythed, the walkway swept clean. Tysen was tired, but the sight of his sister's lovely house made him smile.

Tysen remembered Meggie saying that her aunt Sinjun would have had roads built if needed. Well, she'd certainly made the Kinross town house a work of art. Its newer neighbors were lovely as well, but Kinross House had style—old style—and it was better. It was unique.

He hoped Old Angus was still in full possession of his wits and thus would recognize him and not shoot him with his blunderbuss—a very valuable weapon, Sinjun had said to him once, and laughed. To his utter surprise, he looked up at a shout from an upper window. Then Sinjun was sticking her head out and yelling down at him. “Tysen! Is it really you? Bloody hell, we just arrived yesterday. Dahling wanted to stroll down the Royal Mile and, well, I wanted to as well. Colin is up at the Castle, speaking to Lord Stallings. Dahling and Phillip are with him, doubtless roaming through all those drafty hallways, asking endless questions of all the poor soldiers. Oh, it is so wonderful to see you. Come in, oh, yes, do come in!”

Old Angus came out of the house, looking older than the Castle, his homespuns bagging at his knees, his white hair blown all over his head, and a big smile on his seamed face. “Och, ye be Master Tysen, her ladyship's brother, nae doubt.”

“Aye,” Tysen said, savoring that lilting word on his tongue, and dismounted from Big Blue's back.

“Well, now, ye hae yer man just come wi' me and we'll see to them nice horses ye got. Aye, who's the little pullet riding up behind?”

“My tiger. His name is Pride.”

“Aye?”

Then Sinjun was there, throwing her arms around him, hugging him until he was kissing her hair and hugging her back, and then holding her loosely in his arms, he said, “You are looking quite fit, Sinjun. And it isn't raining, thank the good Lord.”

“And you, Tysen, are as handsome as ever. Oh, goodness, I had no idea you were coming. And just look—why ever would you do this? It is surely the most unexpected thing you've ever done. But why is she riding on the back of your carriage? She looks fit to drop. What have you done? Oh, I see, she demanded to do it, and you allowed it. You spoil her, Tysen.”

It took Tysen only a moment of sorting his way through his sister's words before he had the most awful foreboding. He turned slowly to stare at his tiger, Pride.

“Well, Meggie,” Sinjun said, “come down from there and give me a hug. I'm sure I will come to understand why you've become your father's tiger. Was it a wager? No, naturally, your father never wagers. I'm not certain if that is because he believes wagering to be a sin or whether he believes he doesn't have the Sherbrooke luck and doesn't want to lose his fortune.”

Tysen looked at his daughter, who had just pulled off her disreputable woolen hat. Her once beautiful hair was matted and oily.

He closed his eyes, looked heavenward, and without another word, turned on his heel and walked into Sinjun's house. Luckily, the front door was wide open. Standing right inside was Agnes, Old Angus's wife, and she was wearing a huge apron wrapped around her large middle.

“And jest who be ye?” she demanded and crossed her massive arms over her equally massive bosom.

“I,” Tysen said, “am a man of God who is desperately trying to keep firm control of himself.”

“That's right. Ye're the reverend,” Agnes said and gave him a big smile from a mouth that held only three teeth.

There was no yelling to the ceiling, no foul curses, no bodily threats. No, Tysen merely regarded his filthy daughter, standing very close to her aunt Sinjun in the drawing room, and said finally, his voice low, controlled,
very cold, “I am severely disappointed in you, Meggie.” Without pause he turned to his sister. “I have inherited the Barony of Barthwick from Great Uncle Tyronne and am now Baron Barthwick of Kildrummy Castle. My new castle and holding lie some seven miles south of Stonehaven. I am here in Scotland to see to my lands, determine what it is I will do, and spend some time with you and Colin. Also, I believe the Barthwick solicitor, a Mr. MacCray, is here in Edinburgh. I will need to speak with him.”

“Yes, Donald MacCray is here. He is very popular, particularly with the ladies.” Sinjun then just gave her head a slight shake and went down on her knees in front of Meggie. “You are a mess, dear heart. Why don't you come with me upstairs and we will get you bathed and changed. Did you manage to bring clothes? No? It isn't a problem. Dahling is quite the young lady now—all of fourteen—but surely she must have some older clothes still in her drawers.”

Meggie, looking over her shoulder at her father, who hadn't moved from the same spot and who was giving her a very stern, emotionless look, dropped her shoulders and said just above a whisper, “I'm sorry, Papa, truly. But I had to come with you, to protect you, to take care of you.”

“Go with your aunt, Meggie,” Tysen said, and walked over to one of the lovely bow windows in the drawing room. He heard a sniffle, heard her leave the room with Sinjun. He closed his eyes, appalled at what she had done. For five and a half days, his little girl had ridden on the back of his carriage. Where had she slept at night? In the stables of the inns, naturally. He started shaking, just thinking of what could have happened to her. He prayed now, thanking God for keeping her safe, since he, her father, hadn't done so. All that blasted rain—what if she
became ill? What if she died in Scotland because he never gave his borrowed tiger a second glance? Sinjun had known it was her immediately. He was her father, and he was blind.

It was devastating.

Tysen was still utterly white when Sinjun came back into the drawing room. It had been on the tip of her tongue to remonstrate with him for his coldness, despite the fact that Meggie's outrageous deception had nearly curled her own toes, but at the sight of him, all white about the gills, all she could think of doing was hugging him until he regained some of his color, which is what she did. “It's all right, Tysen,” she said over and over against his cheek, holding him tightly against her. “It's all right. Meggie is fine. Mary is with her, helping her bathe. She is all right, no bad aftereffects. Stop worrying.”

He heaved a very big breath, then slowly pulled away from her. “I never even noticed her, Sinjun, yet you knew it was her right away. So did Old Angus. But not her father. Bloody hell, what kind of a man am I?”

He'd said “bloody hell,” the favorite Sherbrooke curse. Sinjun just couldn't believe it. She gave her brother a dazzling smile. “Parents see what they expect to see, it's that simple. Stop feeling guilty. It doesn't become you. Yes, that's better, you've finally got some color. Now, what are you going to do?”

Tysen said slowly, “I would like to thrash my daughter for her appalling behavior, but I don't think I'll be able to bring myself to do it. I spanked her once last year, and the guilt nearly laid me low for a week. What do you suggest, Sinjun?”

“It's difficult,” she said at last, after worrying her lower lip. “Let's ask Colin, all right? He and Dahling and Phillip should be back shortly for luncheon.”

Tysen nodded. “May we stay with you for a couple of
days, Sinjun? Then we will go to Kildrummy Castle and see what's what.”

“I think that is a lovely idea. I could have Old Angus ride to Kinross and fetch Fletcher or Jocelyn. Would you like to see them?”

At the mention of his young niece and nephew, Tysen said, “Meggie said they were just babies and didn't have much interest, but I disagree. I should like that, Sinjun.”

“Well, Jocelyn is only a little mite, just turned a year old. However, little Fletcher is three and won't shut his mouth. Do you know he talks to horses? He listens to horses, and I swear to you that they communicate. He even changed two of their names, claimed they weren't happy with the ones they had.”

“What were the names?”

“They were named Olmar and Grindel. Fletcher listened to them, nodded, and then changed them to Fireball and Thor. I swear to you their steps are higher now, they fling their manes and flick their tails just like they're colts again, and they stamp their hooves whenever someone calls them by their new names. It's amazing.”

Tysen gave her a small smile, but it still showed his very white Sherbrooke teeth. “I should like to introduce Fletcher to my horse. I wish him to see if Big Blue is satisfied with his name.”

Sinjun laughed merrily and took his hand. “Come and tell me all about this inheritance of yours. I remember about Great Uncle Tyronne, but goodness, weren't there a good dozen boys to inherit before you?”

“Very nearly,” Tysen said. “It's sad. They're all dead. Ian, the last of the heirs and Old Tyronne's last grandson, fell off a cliff into the North Sea not above six months ago. Then, I suppose, Great Uncle Tyronne just gave up. Although, as Douglas pointed out, the old man was eighty-seven years old. That left only the
Englishman—namely, me. I doubt anyone is very happy about that.”

“But who is there to be unhappy?”

Tysen just shook his head. “Actually, I have no idea who is living at Kildrummy at the present time or if there are any relatives remaining. I will see Donald MacCray on the morrow. He will provide me with all the information I need. Now, Sinjun, before I face my daughter I should like to fortify myself with a cup of tea.”