The Sherbrooke Series by Catherine Coulter

Author:Catherine Coulter [Coulter, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-05-21T16:00:00+00:00

Sinjun awoke with a start to pale evening light. For a moment she was confused, then memory righted and she closed her eyes against it. It seemed impossible, but it wasn’t. Colin hadn’t told her. He’d conveniently remained silent on what she considered to be a very important part of her life here at Vere Castle, as his wife. She shook her head, blanking out incredulity and anger at him for his damnable silence, and stared about the huge bedchamber, the laird’s bedchamber, with a gigantic bed set up upon a dais, a bed that would hold six men lying side by side. The room was wainscoted with dark oak, beautiful really, but the dull, very dusty burgundy draperies that were all pulled nearly closed made the room as somber as a monk’s cell. The furniture was old, and she recognized the Tudor style of the huge armoire that dominated one entire corner of the room.

She still didn’t move, just looked about her. She thought of the list of things to be done that was already forming in her mind. So much to be done. Ah, but where to begin? She didn’t want to think about her reception as the countess of Ashburnham, but she had to.

Colin had kept his arm about her waist as he led her through the gigantic oak front door into the large square first floor. He kept his arm around her even when all the servants appeared, all of them staring at her, all of them doubtless seeing it as a very romantic gesture. The minstrel’s gallery rose on three sides on the second floor, the railing old and ornate. A quite large chandelier hung down from the third story. There were high-backed Tudor chairs against the walls, and little else. She saw all of this in a haze, listening to Colin as he introduced one person after another. She hurt, but she wasn’t a coward or a weak-kneed miss. She smiled and repeated names. But she couldn’t remember a one after the repetition came out of her mouth.

“This is my aunt Arleth, my mother’s younger sister. Arleth, my wife, Joan.”

An older, sharp-chinned face came into view and Sinjun smiled and took the woman’s hand, bidding her hello.

“And this is—was—my sister-in-law, Serena.”

Ah, a very pretty young woman, not many years older than Sinjun, and she smiled nicely.

“And these are my children. Philip, Dahling, come here and say hello to your new mama.”

It was at that point that Sinjun simply stopped cold in her tracks. She stared at her husband, but he said nothing more. She thought she couldn’t have understood him properly. But there, walking slowly toward her, their faces sullen, their eyes narrowed with suspicion, were two children. A boy, about six years old, and a little girl, four, perhaps five.

“Say hello to Joan. She’s my new wife and your new stepmother.” Colin’s voice was deep and commanding. She would have answered if he’d spoken to her in that tone. He’d made no move toward his own children.

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