Amethyst (44 page)

Though Jason and Ford were decked out in similar finery, she had eyes only for Colin. When he started toward her, she saw he was wearing shoes—
shoes
, not boots!—heeled, with high tongues and stiff narrow ribbon bows.

Amy could scarcely believe this model of masculine perfection was about to be hers. She felt breathless, lightheaded, and nearly tripped at the bottom of the stairs, but Colin was there and caught her in his arms.

"No fainting, now," he quipped. "I may look like a peacock, but I assure you I'm the same man you consented to marry."

Clad head to toe in black and white, he hardly looked like a peacock. "No…you look…"

"Like a featherbrained fop, no doubt. These are my court clothes." Setting Amy down, Colin threw a peevish glance up the staircase. "
She
made me wear them."

Kendra's laughter floated down. "No one makes you do anything, Colin Chase. Though God knows we've tried."

"Besides," Amy declared, "I was about to say you look incredibly handsome."

Colin's face flushed pink under his tan, revealing his embarrassment at the public compliment. He clutched the sides of his full breeches in a show of annoyance. "Just don't expect me to dress like this often. A man cannot move properly with all this extra fabric hung about his person."

"I imagine Amy agrees," Ford put in, "as I'm certain she'd prefer you with no fabric hung about your person at all."

General laughter greeted his comment, and Amy's face flamed—though she'd been thinking the very same thing.

Moving closer, Colin linked his arms around her waist and captured her gaze with his. "My sentiments exactly," he murmured, his husky voice low so only she could hear. "Though you look unbelievably splendid in that gown, I can hardly wait to remove it."

Amy's cheeks burned even hotter.

Someone cleared his throat, and she broke free of Colin's embrace. Jason nodded toward her. "In the absence of your father, Amy, may I have the honor of giving you to my brother?"

For the countless time since this incredible day had begun, Amy's throat closed with emotion, and her eyes filled with tears. Although saddened by the absence of her parents, she was oh so gladdened by her acceptance into this marvelous family.

She nodded mutely.

"Well, then, what are we waiting for?" Jason's smile was warm and understanding as he offered Amy his arm. With a return smile and a swish of her satin skirts, she sailed past Colin and linked arms with her almost brother-in-law.

AMY COULDN'T REALLY
remember her wedding. From the moment they entered St. Trinity (the curate lifted a heavy brow at Colin and uttered, "
This
was worth chasing after"), until she was handed a rolled parchment declaring her officially Amethyst Chase, Countess of Greystone, the time swept by in an incoherent blur of unreality.

Oh, she remembered saying "I will" and hearing Colin's "I will" boom confidently through the sanctuary. She remembered him slipping a cool circlet of metal onto her ring finger, and she remembered his long kiss, sealing her to him forever, his sweet taste tinged with the sack he'd sipped while waiting. Jason had finally tapped Colin on the shoulder, and he'd reluctantly released her, and she remembered that, too. But the curate's words—the incessant drone that tied these events together—had been muffled by a distracted fog.

The ceremony was followed by a hastily prepared wedding feast at the Chases' town house. Their formal dining room was filled with laughter from the inlaid wooden floor to the ornate painted ceiling.

Portraits of ancestors watched the proceedings from the walls overlooking the laden table. Silver platters bearing suckling pig, a roast round of beef, and duck stuffed with oysters and onions were brought steaming to the table, surrounded by bowls of peas, cauliflower, lettuce, corn, potatoes, and rice spiced with saffron and chopped nuts.

The scent of fresh, hot bread and sweet butter tickled Amy's nose. Her cup was refilled with claret wine punch spiked with brandy, nutmeg, sugar and the juice of a lemon. As she drained it for toast after toast, she grew giddy with laughter and companionship, not to mention the unprecedented amount of liquor she consumed.

In the center of the table sat a white-iced wedding cake decorated with candied violets and roses (in the middle of winter!), which Kendra insisted they cut and serve immediately in celebration of their marriage. Amy and Kendra ate their portions, but the men pushed theirs aside to have later.

Colin raised a brow, his gaze searching out each of his brothers in turn. "See?" he asked them, his tone deep with hidden meaning. "It's just as I said…"

Ford and Jason laughed, while Kendra and Amy exchanged a look of confusion. But then dishes were passed back and forth across the table, plates were filled, more toasts were drunk, and the odd comment was forgotten.

Amy could eat no more than a few bites of the impressive feast. Her stomach churned with a combination of excitement, exhaustion, and a tinge of inebriation. Besides, the slow pressure of Colin's thigh against hers, under the cover of the table, kept her thoughts elsewhere.

Conversation whirled about her. She paid scant attention to most of it, but she did take notice of Kendra's reaction when Colin announced they were leaving. Kendra wasn't at all pleased to be having her brand-new sister snatched away so soon.

"You cannot!"

"The devil we cannot. If you think I'm spending my wedding night with my little sister hanging outside the door…"

"But you have only Ebony. Surely—"

"You can borrow my carriage," Jason offered pleasantly.

"Thank you, but I sent for my own carriage this morning."

"But—but—"

Colin smiled when his sister sputtered.

"Amy has no clothes!"

"She has a trunk full of clothes you picked up from Madame Beaumont only this morning."

"She has no shoes, no stockings, and no nightclothes," Kendra returned smugly.

"Surely you can lend her a pair of shoes and some stockings." Colin shot his sister a wicked grin. "She
certainly
has no need of nightclothes."

His prediction proved true. Amy hazily remembered being bundled into Colin's carriage and settling her head against his shoulder. The next thing she knew, she was back at Greystone, in his—
their!
—bed, wearing nary a stitch of clothing. But she wasn't cold. A blaze roared in the fireplace, and Colin's breath was hot on her neck where he'd nuzzled her awake.

"Have you slept enough yet?" he'd whispered, and then, with calculated, skillful maneuvers, proceeded to keep her awake until dawn illuminated the sky.

Not that she was complaining.

Judging by the bright sun through the window, it was afternoon now. Amy stretched beneath the sheets, content. She ran her hand over the shallow hollow where Colin had lain, imagining she could still feel his warmth and sniffing deeply of the distinctive scent he'd left behind. She had no cause to be concerned about his disappearance—he was her husband now.

The thought brought a smile and a vision of herself standing beside him in the old church. Sapphire and cream, black and white. They hadn't matched. It had been perfect.

No…

No, it
hadn't
been perfect. A disturbing emptiness seemed to open in Amy's middle.

What had she done?

She'd taken one vow and broken another. She'd never be able to reestablish Goldsmith & Sons now. Dear God in heaven, would her father ever forgive her? Would she ever forgive herself? Generations of craftsmanship, all ending with her, ending with her selfishness.

She should have married Robert willingly—then none of this would have happened. No matter that the mere idea twisted her insides; she would have had the solace of Goldsmith & Sons, of her craft, of knowing she'd done the right thing.

She'd done Colin no favor, either. What had he said?
Bloody hell, I knew I should have killed him.
Instead, he'd married her to save her from Robert. And now he was stuck with a commoner for a wife, when she knew he'd wanted a titled lady.

Did he really even love her? She curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut tight. Strange patterns danced behind her lids, making her dizzy. The claret punch from last night wasn't sitting well in her stomach.

She lay there for long minutes, hugging her knees, blanking her mind, forcing her breathing to slow and her heart to gradually calm.

At long last, she felt able to think more clearly.

What was done, was done. She would have to bury the guilty feelings deep. Her love was so overwhelming, surely everything would work out. She'd had no choice.

No other choice she could have lived with.

Opening her eyes, she straightened and rolled onto her back, gazing up at the cream-colored canopy. A warm fire crackled on the gray stone hearth. Yellow sunshine streamed through the window. A brilliant flash of purple arced from where her hand lay on the blanket.

She sat up, drawing a quick breath. In all the excitement, she hadn't found time to inspect it last night, but the ring was magnificent: a large heart-shaped amethyst surrounded by tiny seed pearls and table-cut diamonds, set in a framework of delicate filigree reminiscent of the finest sixteenth-century artistry.

Where had Colin come by such a masterpiece on such short notice? She waved her fingers, watching the play of light on the deep purple amethyst and old diamonds. It was eighteen karat, the shank worn thin with age and use, but still a rich yellow. Lovely, yet strange somehow…foreign…she'd never worn jewelry not made by a member of her family.

She pulled off the ring.

At her burst of laughter, Colin appeared in the doorway, sporting a wide grin.

"Good afternoon, sleepyhead. What's so funny?"

Sunlight flashed off the amethyst in the palm of her hand. "This," she choked out between giggles. "This ring."

His smile disappeared, replaced by a frown of hurt. "It was my grandmother's," he mumbled grimly. "I thought…"

Her laughter died as she realized he thought she was disparaging the beautiful piece of jewelry. Clutching the quilt around herself, she jumped off the bed and rushed to his side. "No, it's lovely," she cried. "But look—just look inside."

Colin took the ring. "Inside?" he asked blankly.

"Yes! Look there—do you see it?"

He frowned, squinting at the tiny marks. "An eagle?"

"A falcon! And the letters GSJ."

"So…"

"Goldsmith & Sons, Jewellers. Don't you remember the falcon on our sign? Colin, 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 huskily 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 has dessert first."

Colin chuckled deep in his throat. "That wasn't what I meant." He leaned down to her, and his tongue traced her lips, 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.