Bride by Stella Cameron Read Free Book Online Page A

pounding of boots on stone heralded the arrival of a tall man with curling, dark red-brown hair. He burst into the hall and strode to the daybed.
    Struan's tension fled instantly. He grinned up into the handsome face of his oldest friend, Calum, Duke of Franchot. “Welcome!” he said. “By God, this is a night to remember.”
    “It may be a night you never forget,
friend,”
Calum said, white lines forming around his thinned lips. “If you have seduced my sister, this is the night you finally put your precious bachelorhood behind you.”
    Calum forced his fingers to uncurl. “I ought to call you out on the spot, damn you,” he said through gritted teeth. “Better yet, I ought to beat the life out of you where you sit, you filthy—” He caught Justine's horrified eyes and managed to swallow the rest of what he had every right and every responsibility to say.
    “Look here, old man,” Struan said. “I know how this must look, but—”
    “But?”
Calum roared. “But, you son of the devil? You blackguard! You and my dear, innocent, virtuous sister lie together before my very eyes. I have only to look at her, at both of you, to see what has occurred here.”
    “Calum, please, you are wrong to speak—”.
    “Silence,” he ordered Justine. Her heavy hair, usually brushed to shining, red-tinged brilliance—the profusion of curls smoothly restrained—lay in riotous confusion about her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, her brown eyes bright and, beneath the tumble of cloaks and vulgar silk shawls, her body and Struan's were pressed together, the bodice of her rumpled black gown stark against his disheveled white linen.
    When Justine would have shifted away from him, Struan tightened his possessive hold on her shoulders. His hand curled over Justine's bare flesh.
    “She had traveled far,” Struan told Calum, his handsome face set in the hard, flamboyant planes that stamped him a Rossmara—brother of Arran Rossmara, Marquess of Stonehaven. Struan said, “I confess I may have shown poor judgment in bringing her to the lodge so late at night, but evidently there was none at Kirkcaldy particularly interested in making her comfortable. And we had much to share. We are old friends, dammit, man!”
    “Friends? Much to share?” Calum paced to the door and returned to stand over the evidence that “friends” hardly described the relationship between these two. What they had so recently shared didn't bear thinking about. “Our grandmother and I returned from London to Cornwall earlier than expected. But unfortunately not early enough. One day previous and I could have stopped this. Philipa tried to blame herself for having allowed you to leave, Justine.”
    “But she had nothing to do with my decision,” Justine said, finally separating herself from Struan, if only slightly. “Pippa advised against my making the trip. Please do not in any way condemn her for my actions.”
    “Hah!” He raised his chin and filled his lungs with air that did nothing to calm him. “I do not condemn my beloved Pippa, I assure you. She is too good to have had any part in this debacle. There is only one who deserves to bear the stain here.”
    “And Potts,” Justine continued as if Calum had said nothing. “Please do not castigate Potts. He was most unhappy at my decision. Most unhappy. Loyalty—and his position—forced him to comply.”
    “Potts,” Calum said darkly. “I might have known you'd coerce Potts into helping with Struan's scheme.”
    “It was not Struan's—”
    “Enough!” Rubbing his eyes, willing weariness from muscles that had ridden too far and too long without rest, Calum turned and bent to toss wood on the dying fire. “What in God's name has possessed you, Struan? And in this place of all places. To bring my gentle sister to this monstrosity and … and …” He could not bring himself to say the words. “I must think clearly. I must decide what is to be done.”
    “Perhaps it is not for you to