“Do you like it?” he murmured from his seat beside her. “Father sold off most of the family jewels to help finance the war, but I could have found something, or had Amy make—”
“It’s perfect.” She smiled at the now-familiar gold band studded with emeralds, remembering how he bought it from the Gypsy woman without dickering. “There’s no other ring in this world I’d rather wear.”
“Whenever I see it, I think of your dance,” he said low. “And the moment you stole my heart.”
Her own heart melting, they shared a smile.
“I’m famished,” Kendra announced. She reached for a cake, then froze. “Did you hear something?” She sat up straighter, twisting her head toward the high, arched windows.
Cait turned to look, too. But the dancing flames in the fireplace reflected off the beveled glass, making it difficult to see anything.
“Hear something like what?” Cameron asked.
Kendra frowned. “Like…scratching.”
“I was sipping.” Jason rolled his eyes, draining his crystal goblet with a prolonged slurp. “There. Was that the sound?”
“No…wait! Listen…”
“I hear it too,” Amy breathed. “It’s—”
“The ghost!” Kendra’s eyes widened. “The Parkinson ghost!”
“What’s this about a ghost?” Clearly unshaken, Cameron swirled the wine in his goblet appreciatively.
“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Jason declared.
“Well, now.” Cam paused for a swallow. “You won’t be finding a Scot admitting to that.”
Kendra glared at her brother. “Just because you cannot explain ghosts doesn’t mean they don’t exist. The Parkinson ghost is hardly a new legend. And haven’t you heard about all the sightings in the week since we’ve been back?” She turned to Caithren, apparently looking for support. “Did you know this room was once a private chapel, built by Henry II when the castle was in the hands of the Crown?”
Cait’s gaze swept the stone arches overhead, fit between with a centuries-old oak barrel-section ceiling. “Tonight it feels like it still belongs to the spirits, aye?”
Cameron’s goblet hit the table with a little clink. “Tell us about this ghost.” Little Mary climbed onto his lap and wrapped an arm around his neck, sticking her other thumb into her mouth. He shifted to accommodate her. “What are these stories?”
Kendra sat forward on her lattice-backed chair. “Just this week Cook saw him twice, once in the quadrangle and once walking across the drawbridge, and Haversham saw him on the drive, and Sally saw him on the roof—”
“—and Carrington saw him under the barbican,” Jason interrupted, “and Mrs. Potts saw him on the wall walk. Our servants have very impressionable imaginations.” He reached for the wine decanter. “Let’s suppose there were such a thing as ghosts—just for argument’s sake, you understand. Why would this Parkinson fellow show up now, after all this time?”
“Could it be my fault?” Cait wondered.
“No.” Kendra shook her head. “He died exactly ten years ago this month. And he was killed by a Royalist—not that he didn’t deserve it, the Roundhead cur, presuming to live in our castle—”
“Wheesht!” Cait whispered. “There it is again!”
Kendra moved to Colin’s empty chair and grabbed Amy’s hand. “It’s him, I know it,” she whispered.
Caithren took Jason’s hand as well.
“It is not him.” Unlike his sister’s whisper, Jason’s voice was loud and sure. “She’s famous for jumping to conclusions,” he said to no one in particular. “It’s a bush being blown against the window.”
“It’s not windy,” Clarice murmured, her cheeks turning red at having said something aloud. Her daughter let out a little whine, burrowing into Cameron’s shirtfront.
“Not to mention,” Kendra whispered more fiercely, “there are no bushes under those windows.”
Caithren turned to see the windows and gasped. Something white floated beyond the leaded panes, dipping and bobbing eerily.
Like the monk she’d seen in the tunnel beneath Newark.
Jason turned too, and, despite himself, drew in a sharp breath.
“What? What?” Kendra whispered frantically, her eyes shut tight. “What is it?”
“It’s…I’m not sure.” Calmly Cameron sipped his wine. “But a ghost isn’t necessarily something to be afraid of, aye?”
A sudden clatter from the chimney echoed in the high, arched chamber. Cait gripped Jason’s hand harder, and Clarice grabbed for her daughter and somehow ended up on Cameron’s lap. They all swung around, their gazes riveted to the rattling fireplace.
“Oh, my heavens!” Kendra breathed. “He’s up on the roof, just like Sally said! Oh, my heavens!”
They all flinched when the dining room door swung open. A rush of wind sent the tapestries fluttering against the stone walls. Evidently forgetting he was supposed to look fearless, Jason clutched Cait, and she let out a high-pitched squeak. When Kendra screamed, the rest of the females joined her.
With an unnerving suddenness, mad laughter burst forth to accompany the rattling. Colin rushed in, whipping off a white sheet with a grand gesture.
They all stared at him, dumbstruck, as he strode to the fireplace and bent to shout up the chimney. “Ford! Come on down!”
“Confound it.” Jason disentangled himself from Cait and sat back.
Amy extracted her fingers from Kendra’s and flexed her hand, shaking her head at her husband. “I cannot credit that I fell for that.”
Colin grinned wickedly, raising one black brow.
“Fell for what?” Caithren asked.
“Colin,” Kendra said ruefully, “is famous—or perhaps I should say infamous—for his practical jokes.”
“Oh.” Cait’s gaze flickered to Jason. “Well,” she told Amy, “if it makes you feel any better, Jase fell for it, too.”
“I did not.”
“Then it was someone else’s heart I felt pounding beneath my hand?”
She giggled when he sputtered.
Red-faced, Clarice slid off Cam’s lap and onto her chair. “There’s no ghost, then?”
“None.” Colin’s green eyes sparkled with mischief. “The staff was quite obliging with the mysterious sightings. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re about now, waiting to see how it all turned out.”
The door opened, and they all looked into the corridor expectantly, but it was only Ford returning from his chain-rattling assignment. He took one look at Cait’s good-natured pout and burst into peals of laughter.
“On our wedding day!” she chided, but she couldn’t help laughing along with him.
Cam rose and, settling Mary on her own chair, walked over to shake Colin’s hand. “Well
