The Heiress Bride Read Online Free

thus Sinjun was free to search in every corner of the vast room for her Scot, as she now thought of him. To her delight and speechless excitement and horror, she saw him standing not eight feet behind her, speaking to Lord Brassley, a friend of Ryder’s. Brass, as he was called, was a rake and kindhearted, a man who commendably kept his wife in more luxury than his mistresses.
    Her heart speeded up. She turned completely to face him and began to walk forward. She bumped into a portly gentleman and automatically apologized. She simply kept walking toward him. She wasn’t more than three feet away when she heard him laugh, then say quite clearly to Lord Brassley, “Good Lord, Brass, what the devil am I to do? It’s damned painful—I’ve never in my life seen sucha gaggle of disasters, all of them in little knots or herds, giggling and simpering and flapping and staring. It isn’t fair, no it isn’t. I must needs wed myself to an heiress or lose everything I own, thanks to my scoundrel of a father and brother, and all those females I’ve met who fit the groat requirements scare me to my toes.”
    â€œAh, my dear fellow, but there are other females who aren’t disasters,” said Lord Brassley, laughing. “Females you don’t have to marry, just enjoy. You simply amuse yourself with them. They will relax you, Colin, and you certainly could use some relaxation.” He slapped Colin Kinross on his shoulder. “As for the heiress, be patient, my boy, be patient!”
    â€œHa, patience! Every day that goes by brings me closer to the brink. As for those other females, hell, they would also want to spend all the groats I don’t have, and expect that in my undying gratitude I would shower them with endless baubles. No, I have no time for distractions, Brass. No, I must find myself an heiress and one that is reasonably toothsome.”
    His voice was deep and soft and filled with humor and a goodly dose of sarcasm. Lord Brassley laughed, hailed a friend, and took himself off. Without further hesitation, Sinjun walked to him, stood there right in front of him until his beautiful dark blue eyes finally came to rest on her face and a black brow rose in question. She thrust out her hand and said quite clearly, “I’m an heiress.”

CHAPTER
2
    C OLIN K INROSS , SEVENTH earl of Ashburnham, stared at the young woman standing in front of him, her hand outstretched toward him, staring at him with utter sincerity and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a goodly dollop of excitement. He felt knocked off his pins, as Philip would say, and stalled for time to get his brain back in working order. “Forgive me. What did you say?”
    Without hesitation, Sinjun said again, her voice strong and clear, “I’m an heiress. You said you needed to marry an heiress.”
    He said slowly, his voice light and insincere, still stalling for mental reinforcements, “And you are reasonably toothsome.”
    â€œI’m pleased you think so.”
    He stared at her outstretched hand, still there, and automatically shook it. He should have raised her hand to his lips, but there that hand was, stuck out there like a man’s, and so he shook it. A strong hand, he thought, slender fingers, very white, competent. He released her hand.
    â€œCongratulations,” he said, “on being an heiress. And on being toothsome. Ah, do forgive me, ma’am. I’m Ashburnham, you know.”
    She simply smiled at him, her heart in her eyes.His voice was wonderful, deep and smiling, much more beguiling than either of her brothers’. They didn’t come close to this marvelous man. “Yes, I know. I’m Sinjun Sherbrooke.”
    â€œAn odd name you have, a man’s nickname.”
    â€œI suppose. My brother Ryder christened me that when he tried to burn me at the stake when I was nine years old. My real name is Joan, and he wanted me to be Saint Joan but it became