Amethyst (17 page)

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.

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.

Ford put a hand on her shoulder. "She thinks you're funny, Colin."

Amy blushed, but Colin just grinned. "I appreciate a woman who appreciates my jokes."

Amy's face heated even more. "I'll—I'll be right back," she hiccuped between bursts of giggles.

She had to gain control of herself.

Leaving the room, she wove her way through the corridor, laughing, and down the stairs, leaning against the wall at intervals. They must think I'm drunk, she thought—but she knew better. She was merely giddy from close proximity to Colin, intensified by a feeling of well-being, surrounded by laughing people who loved one another.

Maybe her family hadn't shouted, but they hadn't laughed together much either.

The laughter made her feel slightly sick, and she hugged her stomach and aching ribs. At the foot of the staircase, she gazed through tear-blurred eyes at the tall wooden front doors. The quadrangle beyond enticed her, the crisp night air exactly what she needed. She stumbled through the entrance hall and out the doors, laughing all the way, almost tripped down the steps outside, and fell into a heap on the damp grass.

As her giggles diminished, she took delicious breaths of cold air deep into her lungs. At last she sat up, wiping the tears from her cheeks between hiccups. Placing her hands behind her on the grass, she leaned back and gazed up at the sky, enjoying the feel of the frigid air on her hot face.

Colin came into the quadrangle and crouched down beside her.

"The family elected me to check on you," he said wryly. "Better now?"

"Uh-huh." She watched a dark cloud creep slowly across the moon. "I'm sorry. I guess I made a fool of myself." She hiccuped, more loudly than she would have liked. "Excuse me."

"No excuses necessary," Colin declared chivalrously. "And you made no fool of yourself, either. To the contrary, we're all pleased to see you've recovered your spirits."

Silent, Amy continued watching the clouds gather, dark shapes against the starlit sky. She hiccuped again.

"I'll take you to Dover tomorrow," Colin said quietly beside her. "I'm sorry Jason and Ford haven't found the time to do it."

Suddenly, the air seemed cold instead of refreshing. She shivered and sat up straight, folding her legs beneath her. "It wasn't a problem. I've been fine here."

His family's faint laughter drifted through a window. She felt a stab of pain at the thought of leaving them all; she was even growing used to their inevitable arguments. But it was only by chance that she'd been afforded the luxury of being a part of them for a while, and her time was up.

She shivered again.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"A little bit."

He moved closer and put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her tight against him. "You'll catch your death out here. We should go back inside."

His heat penetrated the side of her body, warming her all over. She wouldn't have moved an inch for the world. "In a minute," she stalled.

He squeezed her shoulder. "How is your hand?"

"Fine." She spoke softly, fearing he might pull away. "It healed weeks ago."

Colin took her hand to examine it in the moonlight. "Mmm," he murmured, rubbing his warm palm over the back. "So it did."

More laughter sounded from above. Quite suddenly, his fingers came around and laced through hers, and then, to her complete surprise, he brought their joined hands to his lips and held them there.

Amy bit her lip and closed her eyes. When she felt Colin move around to kneel in front of her, she opened them to find his only inches away.

"How are
you
, Amy?" he asked in hushed tones, searching her face for the answer.

"I'm better," she whispered, overwhelmed by his intensity. "Much, much better."

"That's good," he replied, then swiftly, before either of them could think about it, he pulled her hard against him and brought his mouth to hers.

She was shocked at her surge of response. Her arms wound over his shoulders and around his neck; her fingers meshed themselves in his thick, silky hair. Inexperienced though she was, her lips opened, inviting him in.

As he eased her backward onto the damp, fragrant grass, his mouth trailed down, and she felt the heady, moist sensation of his lips against her arched neck. He stretched out, half on top of her. She'd slept next to him at the inn, but this was different, and her body felt on fire in a hundred places where it made contact with his.

Her senses spun dizzily, and all she could think was that she hoped this would never stop. He raised his head to choke out her name in a strangled voice before his lips recaptured hers, more urgent this time. He tasted of Rhenish, but, underneath, he tasted of Colin. A unique, delicious flavor she knew she'd search for the rest of her life.

His mouth felt hot and demanding, his kisses damp on her chin and her throat and finally between her breasts framed in the low neckline of her borrowed gown. She smelled his hair, his scent, not smoky this time, but warm and clean and masculine. His tongue traced a shivery line from her cleavage back up her neck, and she called out his name in a breathy cry.

He pulled away and sat up, muttering a soft oath. "I'm sorry," he sighed, running a hand raggedly through his tangled hair.

Of course he was sorry. He didn't like her; he wanted to get rid of her. What she couldn't understand was how he could kiss her like that, feeling as he did.

She didn't trust herself to speak. Instead, she sat up and put her head in her hands. But she didn't cry. She felt too dead inside to cry.

"I'm betrothed, you know," he said suddenly.

Amy looked up, startled. She hadn't known—nobody had thought to inform her.

"Her name is Priscilla Hobbs," he continued. "
Lady
Priscilla Hobbs. Her father's an earl—she'll make a perfect mother for my children. Oh, and she's very nice," he added unconvincingly.

"Why are you telling me all this?" she asked, confused.

"I'm just trying to explain why I cannot…pay court to you."

Humiliated, she lashed out at him. "Pay court to me? Because of a little kiss? What an absurd notion!" Her voice rose an octave in her agitation. "I'd never expect you to marry me—you've tried to get rid of me at every turn."

"That's not true," he protested.

"It is so true," she contradicted, but the anger was seeping out of her already.

Things were as they were.

She wasn't suited to him, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Amy," he began, rising on his knees to face her.

When she instinctively scooted backward, a flash of disappointment crossed his face. She looked down, picking at an imaginary piece of lint on her skirt.

"I'm sorry," he finally muttered.

They were silent for a long minute. Then Amy looked up and locked her gaze on his.

"When you touch me," she confessed softly, "I feel things I never thought to feel. I don't know if you might feel them, too. What I do know is that it doesn't matter. You belong here, with lords and ladies and the king, and I belong in France, working at a jeweler's bench."

An inscrutable mask settled on Colin's features. He hesitated, then slowly stood and brushed the grass off his breeches.

"We'd better get some sleep," he said in a voice devoid of any emotion. "I mean to get an early start."

His long legs carried him up the steps and through the door without hesitation. Amy took a deep breath and raised herself up, wondering if her own legs would carry her.