“Not too far,” he yelled after them, “and be careful!”
“Dunderhead,” Kendra chided. “When did you ever know a child to be careful?”
“Never,” he said with a sheepish smile.
They both turned and faced outward. Resting their forearms on top of the ledge, they gazed out over the River Caine and the fields and nearby woods. Like most medieval castles, the tower at Cainewood was built on a tall motte—a huge mound of earth. Up on the wall walk they could see for miles in all directions.
“You’re marvelous with the children,” Kendra said quietly.
Colin shrugged. “I remembered playing in the keep—it was so much fun. I just wanted to bring it to life a bit for them.”
Kendra sighed wistfully. “I never got to play in the keep.” The war had begun years before she was born, and as well-known Royalists, the Chase children had been whisked to the Continent shortly after their parents’ deaths. Sadly, even that had failed to stop Cromwell from bringing his wrath down upon their family home.
But now the days of war were long over. It was peaceful up here.
“How is Amy?” Kendra asked suddenly.
“Still sleeping. Sixteen hours.”
“She was exhausted.” Kendra slanted him a glance. “I saw you shaking her when I walked by her chamber.”
“To no avail. She’d rouse for a few seconds at most, then drop back into sleep.” He shook his head. “I thought she’d be wanting some dinner. She’d eaten but a few spoonfuls of broth, though her chocolate cup was empty.”
“And her hand?”
“Blisters, but no red streaks of infection, thank the Lord. I changed the bandage and applied fresh honey. I believe it will mend without incidence.”
Kendra cocked her head. “You like her, don’t you?”
“Of course, don’t you?” he said a mite too quickly.
Her lips curved in a knowing smile. “I meant you really like her.”
“Not like that.”
She gave an unladylike snort. “I was there that day in her shop. I’m not blind, you know. I’ve noticed the way you care for her. Worry about her. And you put her in the Gold Chamber.” The beautiful room was usually reserved for honored guests. “Colin—”
“I’m betrothed,” he stated firmly.
“But—”
“No buts, Kendra. I—”
“I hate it when you say that!”
“Well, I hate it when you argue with me! As I was about to say, I know you dislike Priscilla, but I am marrying her. And nothing you—or Amy—could say will change my mind.”
“But why? I’ve seen you with Priscilla—you don’t love her, I can tell.”
“I don’t want to love her; I’ve told you that. She’s wealthy, she’s pretty, she’s—”
“Cold.”
Colin ignored that. “—she’s titled—”
“As though we care about such things. We’re titled, and what did it get us? Nothing! We were paupers on the Continent, dragged from Paris, to Cologne, to Brussels, Bruges, Antwerp—wherever King Charles wandered. We had no home, no one who really cared about us. People are what matters. Titles are worthless.”
“But that’s where you’re wrong. That title kept us fed, allowed us to tag along with the court, obligated them to take us in. It was all we had, the only thing of value our parents gave us. My children will have no less—and a lot more.”
“Of course they will—you’re an earl, for heaven’s sake! If the king hadn’t granted you the title, I’d understand your view. As a second son, you’d have had to marry an heiress or else make your own fortune somehow. But Charles owed a debt to our parents, and he gave you the earldom. Your children will inherit. You have a title—you’ve no need to marry one.”
Colin’s jaw was set. “My children will have titles from both sides. They’ll never know a day of insecurity.”
“What a bunch of blatherskite! You’re using this as an excuse to avoid caring about someone—someone like Amy. The Chases know it’s what’s inside that counts. We don’t care about titles.”
“This Chase does.”
Kendra stamped her foot. “Oh, you’re so stubborn!”
“No more than you are, little sister. It runs in the family.”
“Hmmph!” She crossed her arms and turned from him, facing outward.
“Hmmph!” Colin did likewise, in imitation.
She burst out laughing.
But his attention was already diverted elsewhere. “Good heavens!” he exclaimed. “Kendra, look!”
She turned and squinted in the direction he was pointing. “What? I see nothing.”
“Exactly. It’s London. Not burning.”
Sure enough, although a dark cloud of smoke still hung over London in the distance, it seemed to be lifting, and there were no visible flames underneath.
“Oh!” Kendra’s voice went up an octave in excitement. “Ford and Jason are on their way home already, I’ll wager.”
“And I’ll take the children back to London first thing in the morning. We can only pray we won’t have trouble locating their families.”
“And Amy? Will you return her to London as well?”
“Of course,” he snapped.
He was relieved when Kendra didn’t comment on his temper. “Come, our dinner is getting cold,” she said instead. “Let’s bring the little ones inside and deliver the good news.”
He led the way down from the tower. Once in the quadrangle, the children ran ahead, racing noisily to the entrance.
Crossing the lawn more sedately beside Kendra, whose fashionable high-heeled slippers discouraged running, Colin suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“Now where am I supposed to find a story, I ask you? No one found time to tell me fairytales when I was little, you know.”
“Oh, you’ll think of something.” Kendra flashed him an arch smile. “I have complete and total faith in you, big brother.” Then she took off across the grass, running anyway.
FIFTEEN
COLIN GENTLY tucked the bandage and set Amy’s hand on top of the quilt. It looked tiny and delicate lying alone, with the rest of her buried beneath the covers. He licked a bit of honey off his finger, watching her heart-shaped face. She’d missed dinner, and now supper…he glanced behind in case his sister might be watching, then, feeling foolish, shook Amy’s shoulder again.
Nothing.
He rested a hand on her forehead.
