Free Bride by Stella Cameron Page B

reproach. There cannot be any question of silly talk about my being here.”
    “On the contrary,” Arran said promptly. “You are a lovely, refined woman and you are far from being old enough to be considered a tabby.”
    Justine stared at him, her lips parted.
    She wasn't accustomed to compliments. Struan swallowed. If circumstances had been different, he would be delighted to put that omission to rights. Circumstances were not different, and for her own safety, Justine must not remain with him. He would say so. “We must rely upon Calum to know what is best for Justine,” Struan declared.
    “No such thing,” Justine said. “I know what is best for me. Please let us waste no more time on this issue. The subject is closed. You may return to Grace and give her my love, Arran. And you, Calum, may go back to Pippa. Tell Grandmama I'll write.”
    Struan could not help but laugh at gentle Justine's unexpectedly acid tongue.
    While Justine managed to remain somber, Calum and Arran chuckled with Struan.
    “Are you quite collected now?” Justine asked as the mirth subsided. “If so, I shall get to work. I will ensure that a room is prepared for myself and then set about putting the lodge to rights for Struan and for his dear children.”
    “Justine—”
    “Hush, Calum. My mind is made up.”
    “You cannot stay, sister dear. There is not even a chaperon.”
    “Bit late for that, wouldn't you say?” Arran remarked, fiddling with his watch chain.
    “Damn your nerve!” Calum grabbed Arran's neckcloth and hauled his face closer. “Take that back or I'll thank you to name your seconds.”
    “Would you not,” Arran said reasonably, “admit that a chaperon is a trifle superfluous at this point?”
    With a final tug on Arran's neckcloth, Calum released him and said, “I would not.”
    “Nor I,” Struan added. He wanted this issue settled. Quickly. “I think it is essential that Justine withdraw from the lodge immediately and with as little fuss as possible.” He wanted her departure to attract as little attention as possible.
    “If the business of a chaperon is important at all, I'm sure that dear Mairi would be glad to come.” Justine picked up her bowl. “Is Grace planning to return to Kirkcaldy soon?”
    “Not for some weeks,” Arran said.
    “Then I'm sure you will be happy to spare Mairi,” Justine said sweetly. “Kindly send her to me when you stop at the castle to prepare for your return to Yorkshire.”
    Arran ran a hand through his thick, curly hair which was restrained in an unfashionable but—according to the ladies—an irresistible queue. “This is not settled,” he said. “I will send Mairi. And some of the castle staff to supervise things. I shall want to talk with you, Calum—in appropriate surroundings. And with you, Struan,” he finished, glowering at his brother.
    Justine carried bowls to the sinks as if she'd been a scullery maid in some previous life. “You should all go along and chat. I'm sure you have much to talk about. Many things to share. And I am anxious to put people to work here and get started on my book.”
    “Book?” Calum said.
    “Book?
” Arran echoed.
    Struan tried, unsuccessfully, to smother a groan.
    “Oh yes,” she said. “My book for prospective brides. It will revolutionize the whole business.”
    “Good Lord,” Arran muttered.
    “You are addled.” Calum sounded irritable. “Ladies do not write books. They certainly do not write books about matters such as the one you suggest.”
    “Piffle.”
    Calum planted his fists on his hips. “You have quite forgot yourself, Justine. That word has crossed your lips several times since I arrived. And the … Sin's ears, or whatever. You are not yourself.”
    “I am finally myself. My book will be highly instructional and highly sought after. Eventually men as well as women will clamor to read it.”
    Arran snorted.
    “Men of inquiring intellect,” Justine said, narrowing her lovely eyes. “Men with fine