The Scottish Bride - Bride 06 by Catherine Coulter

Author:Catherine Coulter
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-11-25T23:52:17+00:00

“You saw my broken toe,” she said again, and he would swear that in that instant he’d never seen a more mortified face in his life. “You saw even more than my broken toe.”

“Well, yes.”

“It’s very embarrassing, Tysen. Only I have ever seen myself without my clothes on. Oh, goodness, you’re a man.”

“Well, yes, I am. Mary Rose, if you do not tell me yes very soon now, I just might drop you. Though you are not large, you are beginning to push my limits here.” Still, her face was full of questions. To his utter relief, she slowly nodded, to herself more than to him.

“Very well, then, Tysen. Because I do not want you to be bent over like an old man, moaning and Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

clutching your back, I will say yes.”

“Say it.”

“Yes. I am hopeful. I am also still so embarrassed I want to swallow my tongue. All right, then, I will say all of it. I will marry you, sir, and I pray to God that you will not regret your gallantry.” He lowered her very slowly, his muscles nearly locking tight at the feel of her against him. To prove to her that he was a man of his word, he kissed her, just as he’d promised.

It was a lovely afternoon, sunlight flowing in through the westerly windows. As soon as Meggie and the countess of Ashburnham had left the room, Donnatella looked down at her cousin and said, “You look perfectly dreadful, Mary Rose. Would you like me to brush your hair?” Mary Rose only smiled. Not too long ago, had Donnatella said something like that to her, she would have felt like a prune pit ground underfoot. But now she didn’t think anything Donnatella said would faze her. She didn’t doubt at all that her hair had more rats in it than the Kildrummy stables, but it didn’t matter, hadn’t mattered to Tysen. She was so very happy, all she could do was smile stupidly up at her cousin. “That would be very nice, Donnatella. You look very beautiful with the sunlight shining in your hair.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“How is my mother?”

“Mad, as usual,” Donnatella said as she walked over to Lord Barthwick’s dresser and picked up his brush. She said over her shoulder, “She hasn’t said much, really. Mother simply told her that you were visiting the daughter of the house here at Kildrummy. Nothing else was necessary. She left the room humming.” Donnatella saw light hairs in the brush. Tysen Sherbrooke was a lovely man, she thought, and obviously in need of a wife. Given he was a vicar, likely without much spine at all, all his thoughts spiritual and not at all to the point, he would be easily managed. It was something to think about, just in case.

She pulled a dark blond hair from the brush, a small smile on her lips as she walked back to the bed.

“Mrs. MacFardle tells me that you must leave the vicar’s bed.

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