by Lauren Royal
Amy plopped back onto the chair. The history books in front of her had seemed fascinating a few minutes ago, but now they'd lost their appeal. She pushed them aside and laid her head on the exquisite mosaic table, the tiles cool beneath her cheek. She would miss this family, but she knew her life was destined along another path.
You cannot have everything, she heard her father say.
She sighed and rose to go ready herself for supper. If she hurried, perhaps she'd have time to take a walk around the grounds and think things through. But deep in her heart, she knew there was really nothing to think about.
This was it. Her time was up. Colin wanted her gone, and this time he would see it done.
She had no excuses left.
Jason had plenty of excuses.
In the midst of shouting at his brothers, Colin didn't spare Kendra a glance when she walked into the drawing room. "She's still here? I cannot believe it!"
"It hasn't been that long," Jason stated calmly.
"Nine weeks! Don't tell me she hasn't recovered enough in nine weeks."
"I haven't asked her," Jason admitted. "She does seem to be getting on fine, though."
Colin stormed over to where his older brother lounged against the carved stone mantel. "You never asked her?"
"I just said so, didn't I? We've been quite busy these past weeks."
"You've been busy?" Colin's fists clenched. It hadn't been easy to walk away from Amy, but he'd done it, trusting he'd never be tempted by her again. " Too busy to take a day or two to deliver her as promised?"
Jason only shrugged. "With the end of the harvest, Ford and I have been out collecting rents. It's that time of year, you know."
"Yes, I know," Colin said between gritted teeth. Jason's nonchalance wasn't improving his mood in any way. "I've been busy. Disposing of the harvest, looking after the livestock, overseeing the quarrying and logging operations, collecting rents, directing restoration work, working on the damned account books—and all by myself with just Benchley for help. You have Ford and a battalion of laborers and servants, and you hadn't the time to—"
"Amy's been doing my ledgers for me," Jason interrupted. "I reckon she'd be willing to help you out. She's quite grateful, you know."
Colin made his way to one of the salmon-upholstered chairs and dropped onto it, defeated. "She's been doing your ledgers," he stated in a dead voice.
"Oh, yes," Kendra bragged, "and she's much faster than Jason ever was. Why, she says she's just about caught up."
"That's a miracle," Colin allowed. "However did this come about?" They were bound to tell him anyway, so he might as well cooperate.
"I was showing her the portraits in the picture gallery," Kendra explained brightly, "and the door to Jason's study was open. He invited her in to look around, she asked what he was working on so hard, and that was that. She kept the books for her father's shop." Kendra smiled in a way that set Colin's teeth on edge. "She's so smart, Colin, you wouldn't believe it."
"Oh, I'd believe it all right." Yet one more thing to add to the shining qualities of Amethyst Goldsmith.
"She became great friends with little Mary." Jason made his way to the chair beside Colin's. "Why, you should have seen her with that child. She's a born mother." He sat and stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. "I found a home for Mary in the village, with the widow of one of my men who was killed in the mill accident."
"Good." Wonder of wonders, his brother had actually followed through with something he'd asked of him. "Thank you for taking care of that."
"My pleasure."
With a gleam in her eye, Kendra turned to her heretofore silent twin for assistance.
"We've been discussing Amy's fine education," Ford put in helpfully. "She's interested in science"—Ford was forever complaining that no one in the family shared his fascination with science—"although she prefers history. She spends hours and hours in the library."
"She does, does she?" Colin crossed his arms and leveled a stare at Jason. "When are you taking her to Dover? You are taking her to Dover?"
"Of course, Colin. Whyever would you think not?"
"She should stay here," Kendra protested. "She's clever and sweet and helpful and a good friend and she has no one—just one aunt—and she fits right in with the family." Kendra paused for a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "You should marry her, Colin. We all think she's wonderful."
Colin had seen it coming. "Then you can all marry her," he suggested lightly, rising to go out the door. "I'm going to get cleaned up."
"Wait!" Kendra yelled after him.
He whirled around. "You wait," he returned fiercely. "I'm marrying Lady Priscilla Hobbs, or did that slip your mind somehow?" He turned to Ford. "You want Amy in the family? You marry her."
Ford's blue eyes widened at the mere suggestion. "I'm not ready to get married!"
Undaunted, Colin turned on Jason. "You marry her, then. You seem to enjoy having her around."
"I'm—I'm not attracted to her," sputtered the unflappable Jason. "She's—she's a bookkeeper!"
"Exactly." Colin turned on his heel and headed up to his bedchamber, shaking his head.
Sometimes his family was more trouble than they were worth. Kendra, especially. You should marry her, Colin.
Hmmph! He'd get Kendra for that one. Tonight. He'd get her good.
A nice warm bath would calm him and inspire a clever idea.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"Defending the castle?"
Taken off guard, Amy turned to see Colin framed in the arch to the keep's stairwell. He was dressed casually, in breeches and a billowing white shirt, his hair still damp from a recent washing.
The last time she'd seen him, he'd been mentally and physically exhausted. Now the circles were gone from under his eyes. He looked relaxed and rested, his body hardened by healthy manual labor.
She swallowed hard, her hands tightening on the iron grille set into the keep's window. "Defending the castle?" she echoed.
His smile reached his compelling emerald eyes. "This is where the castle guard lived, and you were watching through the window."
"Oh." She blushed, feeling thick-witted for not catching the reference. What was it about him that robbed her ability to think straight? "I was just…ruminating." She glanced out the window, struggling for some relevant comment she could make. "How could they see to guard? The windows are so narrow."
"The better to deter arrows in days past." Colin moved toward her, then abruptly stopped. She thought she saw a frown flit across his tanned features. "In truth, they only lived and stored weapons in here. There used to be a level above where they took turns day and night, watching through the notches in the battlement all around."
Amy looked up at the sky, streaked with colors from the setting sun. She imagined the guards up there, pacing back and forth, clanking around in their armor. Colin's words seemed to do that to her: make her imagine other places, other times.
She stole another glance at him. His gleaming black hair was loose for a change, cut just to his shoulders, easy to manage if not fashionable. It was odd, but the color she hated on her own head looked perfect on his.
She'd been convinced that her response to his kiss, that one time that now seemed so long ago, had been an outgrowth of her grief, a method for escape. But suddenly she knew she'd been fooling herself. It seemed each time she saw him, the pull was stronger.
She took a step closer. "I can picture the knights up there when you talk about them."
"A romantic image, but they weren't knights decked out for battle." Colin took a step back and leaned against the wall, crossing his ankles and arms. "Just regular men, mostly. Each of the lord's vassals—all the men granted use of his land—was obligated to spend part of his year as a member of the castle guard."
"I've been wondering what it was like to live here."
"Well, Kendra sent me to find you for supper, but I can give you my famous tour on the way down."
"It's hard to imagine living in anything so primitive as a keep today," Colin's words floated up to her, "but in the twelfth century, it would have contained the best residential lodging for the lord. In those days, others lived in the smaller towers set into the castle walls, while the rest of the people had their homes constructed against the inside surfaces of the enclosure."
When they came out on the next floor, Amy wandered to a window where she could oversee the quadrangle. "No wonder it's so big," she said, imagining hundreds of people milling below.
"The castle was like a small town, and this keep was the ultimate in luxury accommodations." He joined her at the window, grazing her arm. "There was a poultry yard where all the animals were kept." When he moved closer, the pit of her stomach began tingling. "Soldiers, skilled workers, servants and their families—everyone made their home within the castle walls."
Suddenly she felt giddy. His words weren't going in one ear and out the other, not quite, but she was having a hard time concentrating.
"Tell me more," she begged.
"The portcullis, that wooden iron-banded gate at the barbican over there, would be down all the time, not just at night like it is now. The drawbridge would be raised unless someone needed to leave or enter."
When Colin paused, she turned to look at him. He captured her gaze with his. "This would have been the lord's bedchamber."
"Oh." She blushed furiously.
"It would have been decorated with beautiful tapestries, and the beds would have been draped with yards and yards of fabric that could be pulled together to keep in the warmth. Enormous beds, so that on cold nights they could all get in, the whole family together, and cuddle to keep warm."
Though Colin's words were simply informative, his voice was deep and husky, as though…
No, it was all her imagination. He hadn't asked how she was, or anything else of a personal nature. She had to stop fooling herself. He'd come only to fetch her for supper.
And to take her away.
Well, there was no sense dwelling on such a depressing subject. "Is supper waiting?" she asked.
Colin blinked before answering, and when he did, his words were clipped. "I reckon it is. We should go."
Amy followed him down the twisting staircase, but when he headed toward the courtyard, she slowed on the bottom floor. Despite everything, she didn't quite feel ready to share him with his family.
"What was this room for?"
He hesitated before turning back. "This would have been the main living quarters for the lord and his family." He was the tour guide again, his voice instructive, nothing more. "They would have eaten here, food brought to them by servants from the castle kitchens. The lord's children would have had their lessons here, and the family would have played games and received visitors here. There would have been lots of food and supplies in the storeroom underneath, in case of a siege."
Amy ran her fingers down the ancient wall. "You've a lovely home, my lord."
He shrugged. "It's Jason's, really."
She walked around the circular chamber, trailing one hand along the rough stone. "I can picture your lord and his family living here. Were they happy, do you think?"
"I imagine so." Colin chuckled. "The Chases were always a boisterous lot, I'm told."
Amy halted, startled. But of course it had been his family living here these past four hundred years; it just hadn't occurred to her before. They'd been peers for all that long. Just as her own family had been jewelers for an untold number of years. It was an intriguing thought, and a sad one, emphasizing the many reasons they could never be together.
"They're surely waiting for us by now," Colin said, breaking her reverie. "Shall we?"
When Colin and Amy reached the dining room, they found the family arranged the same way they'd been seated the night before he'd left, forcing the two of them to sit beside each other again.
Colin wasn't surprised.
He took his seat, and supper was served. Conversation swirled as usual, but tonight he was the one not participating. He was so aware of Amy, he could swear he felt heat emanating from her body. It had taken all his willpower not to touch her in the keep.
She seemed different tonight. She wore a different gown, a hunter green he remembered Kendra wearing at a house party last year. Her hair was in curls again…
It was her eyes, he decided suddenly. The amethyst sparkle was back.
No one would think of describing this self-assured woman as "a wreck" now. She laughed and joked with his sister and brothers, kept up with their repartee as though born to a large, noisy family.
This large, noisy family, in fact.
Colin was stunned. Amy was everything he'd imagined her to be: beautiful, animated, talented, intelligent, witty…and entirely too comfortable with his siblings.
When she laughed again, his fists clenched under the table. He forced himself to look at his plate instead of her. She was enough to drive a man to the asylum. Or, even worse, to a life of debauchery.
And he wasn't that kind of man.
He would deliver her to a ship bound for France—tomorrow. It was clear that Jason and Ford had no intention of doing so in any reasonable timeframe, and it must be done—the sooner, the better.
"What do you think, Colin?" Amy asked, startling him out of his trance.
"Pardon me?" He hadn't followed the conversation in the slightest.
"Amy has challenged you to a game of piquet after supper," Ford explained.
"I just taught her last month," Kendra complained, "and already she puts me to shame."
"I'm weary tonight." Colin had no desire to match wits at a card game, most especially not with Amy. Besides, he had his plan to carry out. "I was looking forward to relaxing and listening to you play the harpsichord, Kendra."
"I played last night."
"Not for me. Please," he pleaded. "I've been locked up in my godforsaken stronghold for weeks, with no civilized entertainment…"
"Oh, very well. You don't need to act so miserable." Kendra sounded irritated, but her eyes danced. She dearly loved being appreciated.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The first wrong note slipped by practically unnoticed, what with everyone's voices raised in rousing song and Kendra's nimble fingers flying fast. But then she hit another sour note, and another…
She paused momentarily, then resumed the tune.
Kendra rarely made mistakes. She'd been an apt pupil, training for hours upon hours while in exile, an eager student for the bored ladies looking for ways to pass the time. Just as the men had taken Colin and his brothers under their wings, putting them through fencing maneuvers until they could parry and thrust to perfection, so had the ladies put Kendra through her paces. As a result, she was quite an accomplished musician, making this night's trouble particularly frustrating.
When three more notes proved off key in less than a minute, Kendra stopped abruptly and shook her head as though to clear it.
"What's wrong?" Ford teased. "Too much Rhenish tonight?"
"I never drink too much, Ford, and you know it."
"Oh, yes, I forgot. That's Amy's problem. Half a glass and she's on the floor."
Amy giggled.
Colin looked at her sharply, then back to his younger brother. God's blood, his family knew more about her than he ever would have guessed. She'd really been worming her way in, the little witch.
He hardened his resolve to remove her tomorrow, before she insinuated herself even deeper.
"Are you tired, Kendra?" Jason inquired.
"No, I'm not tired." Kendra was clearly irritated. "I'll just start over."
Start over she did, and proceeded to hit the same sour notes. She slammed her fists down on the keyboard, exasperated.
"Are your eyes bothering you?" Amy asked.
"No. And I could play this with my eyes closed, at any
rate."
"Let's just talk tonight," Jason suggested. "We haven't all been together in a long while."
Kendra heaved an impatient sigh. "No. I know I can play this—I've done it hundreds of times."
She attacked the keyboard with a new vigor and hit the same wrong notes again.
The same wrong notes.
She leapt off her bench seat and lifted the lid of the wooden instrument. Half a second later, she slammed it shut and whirled about, pointing an accusing finger at Colin.
"You! You and your damned practical jokes. Have you any idea how long it will take me to retune this?"
"However long it takes, you deserve it, little sister. 'You should marry her,' indeed."
"Marry who?" asked Amy.
"Never mind." Colin waved her off, his attention on Kendra. "Got you good, didn't I?"
"I reckon you did," she admitted with a wry smile.
"What's going on here?" Ford walked over to the harpsichord, lifted the lid and peered inside, then convulsed in mirth.
"What?" Amy asked. "What is it?"
"He—he—loosened some strings," Ford managed to choke out between gales of laughter. "Look."
Amy wandered over to survey the instrument. Though she knew nothing of music, it was obvious what Colin had done. A half-dozen random strings were markedly looser than the others.
"See?" Ford pressed a key causing a plectrum to pluck a taut string, followed by a key to a loose one. The resulting sound was so discordant that Amy burst into helpless giggles.
They felt so good, those unconstrained giggles. She couldn't help herself; the giggles led into peals of uncontrollable laughter.
It proved infectious. Colin joined in, and Ford and Jason, and finally Kendra, until they were all laughing simply because everyone else was laughing. One by one, they stopped, dwindling into occasional chuckles, all except Amy. She clutched the harpsichord to keep from doubling over as she laughed and laughed; she didn't even know why, anymore.
Her sides hurt, and tears ran down her face.