someone in my family made this ring!”

He glanced up quickly, then back down, staring at the ring in disbelief. “Are you sure? There’s also an animal head of some sort stamped in here.”

“A leopard’s head. That means the gold was assayed at Goldsmith’s Hall in London. It’s why we call it hallmarking. And the leopard head is in a circle—an old mark used before 1519. Colin, this ring must be more than a hundred and fifty years old.”

“I knew it was old, but—”

“It’s very old. And very wonderful. Look at the filigree.” Before Colin could look at the filigree or anything else, she snatched the ring from him and slipped it onto her finger. Extending her arm, she gazed at it possessively. “However did it survive this long? Most of our business was designing new mountings for old stones; fashionable people have their jewels reset every two or three years.”

“Grandmother was never fashionable. She gave the ring to Jason—otherwise it would have been sold years ago to help fight Cromwell. Is it valuable?”

“Quite. Fine large amethysts are rare—they call amethyst the Jewel of Royalty. But it’s the workmanship I treasure…I wonder who made it? My great-great-grandfather?” Happiness spurted through her as she looked from the ring to her husband. “Oh, Colin, this is the best wedding ring ever!”

Colin’s eyes glittered in response. He moved to her, slipping his arms beneath the blanket to encircle her waist. “I’m glad you like it, love,” he murmured before his mouth descended on hers. “And I second your opinion concerning the rarity and value of Amethyst…”

His large hands were warm on her bare back, and he kissed her long and deep, breaking off only when the quilt slid from her shoulders and she pulled away and stooped hurriedly to retrieve it.

Colin wrapped it back around her. “Benchley has our dinner waiting. How quickly can you dress? Unless you’d rather have, uh, dessert first?”

“Kendra is the one who has dessert first.”

Colin chuckled deep in his throat. “That wasn’t what I meant.” He leaned down and kissed her again, sending a tremor through her body. When he pulled back, his eyes bore into hers suggestively.

Two hot spots burned on Amy’s cheeks, but nonetheless she murmured, “Oh. Dessert would be nice.”

This time, when the blanket fell, she didn’t reach for it.

And as he carried her to the bed, she told herself it was impossible for something this perfect to be wrong.

She wouldn’t let it be.

SIXTY-FIVE

Six weeks later

December 24, 1666

COLIN ENTERED the bedroom, careful to keep his expression neutral. “Will you come upstairs with me, love?”

Amy’s reflection looked puzzled in the dressing table mirror. “Upstairs?” She folded the letter she’d just written to Aunt Elizabeth with news of her life since the wedding. “You keep telling me it’s dangerous up there. Besides, don’t we need to leave for Cainewood?”

“Christmas Eve can wait a few minutes yet.” Struggling to keep a smile off his face, he took her by the hand and led her down the corridor to the staircase.

She followed him up the steps. “When will the upper level be renovated?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve put all the renovations on hold. The farmstead is nearly self-supporting, and then—”

He turned when he felt her stop. Her words came forced and quiet. “Colin, I have a trunk full of gold.”

“So you do.” He backed down a step, twisting his ring. “I promised you I wouldn’t touch it.”

“But—it’s yours. Legally, it’s yours.” Her fingers trailed back and forth along the oak rail. “You…you’d have taken Priscilla’s dowry, wouldn’t you?”

Colin noticed the catch in her voice. It would kill her if he spent her gold. It would kill their marriage. Kill her love for him.

“Priscilla was different,” he said carefully. “That was a business arrangement.” He moved down another step to encircle her in his arms. “I love you,” he said low. “We’ll wait, see what happens. If you don’t mind living like this for now—”

“I could live like this forever,” she said quickly.

Very quickly, Colin thought. Much too quickly.

As he took her lips in a gentle kiss, a disturbing image of Lord Hobbs flashed in his head.

He didn’t have forever.

AMY FOLLOWED Colin down the corridor, feeling troubled by his sudden change of temperament. What she’d seen in his eyes had worried her. He’d seemed so lighthearted when they’d started upstairs—what had happened to lower his spirits?

It was odd and disturbing to find that his state of mind affected hers. It seemed that if he wasn’t happy, then she couldn’t be, either.

Love was more complicated than she’d ever imagined.

His step lightened as he reached the end of the corridor. Despite his earlier warnings, she’d seen no rotting wood along the way, no holes in the floor. He stopped in front of a stout, arched oak door and slipped a key into the lock.

After it clicked open with a rusty screech, he took her hand and placed the key in her palm. The metal was warm, retaining his body heat. She closed her fingers around it and looked up at him.

“Go ahead. It’s yours,” he urged, indicating the door and whatever lay beyond.

The door squeaked a protest of disuse as she pushed it open. The smallish chamber had a carved marble fireplace. A long upholstered couch sat in the center, and there was a heavy, dark wooden desk that belonged to the previous century. But best of all were the books, multitudes of them, lining the walls from floor to ceiling.

“A library…”

Her mood suddenly lifted, her uneasiness flitting away as it tended to do in the bliss of being wed to Colin. If they really loved each other, it should be enough.

It would be enough.

“It’s yours,” Colin repeated. “Your own place, like the study is mine. Though I’m hoping you’ll let me in now and then. To borrow a book, you know.”

He winked at Amy, but she only smiled faintly at his humor. She moved to the windows and gazed down into Hidden

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