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 she and Colin could never be together.
“They’re surely waiting for us by now,” he said, breaking her reverie. “Shall we?”
TWENTY-FIVE
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. It had taken all his self-control not to kiss 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 girl 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 startled. Amy was everything his siblings had claimed: intelligent, talented, animated, witty…beautiful…and entirely too comfortable amongst the Chases.
When she laughed again, his fists clenched under the table. He forced himself to look at his plate instead of her.
He would deliver her to a ship bound for France—tomorrow. It was clear that Jason had no intention of doing so any time soon, and it must be done—the sooner, the better.
“What do you think, Colin?” Amy asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“Pardon me?” He hadn’t followed the conversation in the slightest.
“Amy has challenged you to a game of piquet after supper,” said Ford.
“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 sighed theatrically. “I’ve been locked up in my isolated 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.
TWENTY-SIX
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. Criminy, his family knew more about her than he ever would have guessed. She’d really been worming her way in, the little minx.
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 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 in what he hoped was a casual manner. He grinned at Kendra. “Got you good, didn’t I?”
“I reckon you did,” she admitted with a wry smile.
“What did he do?” 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 the strings!” Ford managed to choke out between gales of laughter. “Well, some of them. Come look.”
Amy joined them at the instrument. Though she knew nothing of music, it was obvious what Colin had done. A half-dozen random strings were sagging at the middle.
“See?” Ford pressed a key causing a plectrum to pluck a taut string, followed by a key to a loose one.
