to France. The ship was named the Surprise , but it's now called the Royal Escape ."
He stood. "And that is the end of the story. Time for bed, children. We've a long trip back to London in the morning." He flexed his shoulders and stretched.
Applause came from the doorway behind him. He turned to see his brothers, faces and clothing black with the soot of London's fire.
"Welcome back!" Kendra sprang up to greet them, her embroidery landing unceremoniously on the floor. She hugged them each in turn. "How did you like our storyteller?"
"Watch your gown; we're both sorely in need of a bath," Jason admonished. He aimed an exaggerated nod toward Colin. "I would have liked to attend the Cornice–Chimneypiece wedding. Pity that we were too young."
"Colin certainly rose to the occasion," Kendra said. "I all but forced him into it—in a sisterly way, of course." When Colin snorted at that, she flashed him an innocent smile. "Whatever made you think of that particular story?"
"Are you jesting? We must have heard Charles tell it a hundred times on the Continent. It was all but our nightly entertainment." He looked to Jason. "You brought Ebony with you, I'm hoping?"
"We're both fine," Jason drawled. "Thank you so much for asking." He turned to Ford. "So nice of him to inquire after us before thinking of his horse."
Ford shrugged. "It's not as though we've spent three days battling flames, exposing ourselves to the dangers of falling walls and debris—"
"No, nothing like that," Jason agreed. "Nothing that would compare to the hazards of telling tales to a pack of children."
"Oh, that's not all he's been doing. You don't know the half of it." Kendra rolled her eyes toward where Amy slept upstairs, and Colin moved closer, intending to elbow her in the ribs.
With a laugh, she dodged out of his way. "We'll see the children to bed. You two go clean up, and we'll meet you back here with some supper."
CHAPTER TWELVE
AMY WOKE TO THE sound of low voices nearby. She kept her eyes shut tight—she had no intention of letting anyone know she was conscious, just yet—but even so, she could tell from the color inside her lids that morning had arrived.
Finally.
Several times during the interminable night, she'd awakened and floated to the surface of awareness, first hearing the soft crackling from the fireplace, then feeling the persistent burning in her right palm. And then she'd remember—and immediately force herself back into the depths of slumber. Back to where it was last week, and she wasn't alone in the world, and her only worry was her upcoming nuptials.
Once, she'd sensed a presence in the chamber and slitted her eyes open, peeking through the slits to see Colin watching her, his profile dark against the light of the flickering fire. She'd shut her eyes and lain perfectly still, feigning sleep until he left. He'd sighed heavily before closing the door behind him.
What kind of sigh had it been? she'd wondered vaguely as she lapsed back to her troubled dreams. A sigh of concern, or a sigh of exasperation?
He certainly seemed to be exasperated now.
"Bloody hell," she heard him say. "I want to take her with me. I need this over and done with. I've work to do."
"Well, it's not to be," a male voice answered reasonably. Ford or Jason, Amy reckoned. So they were back. "You'll have to deliver the children without her. You're not going to haul her around the countryside unconscious, are you?"
"Of course not!" Colin spat.
"Shh!" cautioned another unfamiliar masculine voice. The other brother, she supposed. "She might be ill, you know, if she's been sleeping this long."
Amy heard a couple of footsteps, then a warm palm pressed onto her forehead and rested there a few seconds. Colin. It had to be. "She's not hot," she heard him say, his voice closer now. "I checked her hand again last night. There's no infection."
Amy's heart fluttered at the thought of him caring for her while she slept. Perhaps she should let him know she'd
He stood. "And that is the end of the story. Time for bed, children. We've a long trip back to London in the morning." He flexed his shoulders and stretched.
Applause came from the doorway behind him. He turned to see his brothers, faces and clothing black with the soot of London's fire.
"Welcome back!" Kendra sprang up to greet them, her embroidery landing unceremoniously on the floor. She hugged them each in turn. "How did you like our storyteller?"
"Watch your gown; we're both sorely in need of a bath," Jason admonished. He aimed an exaggerated nod toward Colin. "I would have liked to attend the Cornice–Chimneypiece wedding. Pity that we were too young."
"Colin certainly rose to the occasion," Kendra said. "I all but forced him into it—in a sisterly way, of course." When Colin snorted at that, she flashed him an innocent smile. "Whatever made you think of that particular story?"
"Are you jesting? We must have heard Charles tell it a hundred times on the Continent. It was all but our nightly entertainment." He looked to Jason. "You brought Ebony with you, I'm hoping?"
"We're both fine," Jason drawled. "Thank you so much for asking." He turned to Ford. "So nice of him to inquire after us before thinking of his horse."
Ford shrugged. "It's not as though we've spent three days battling flames, exposing ourselves to the dangers of falling walls and debris—"
"No, nothing like that," Jason agreed. "Nothing that would compare to the hazards of telling tales to a pack of children."
"Oh, that's not all he's been doing. You don't know the half of it." Kendra rolled her eyes toward where Amy slept upstairs, and Colin moved closer, intending to elbow her in the ribs.
With a laugh, she dodged out of his way. "We'll see the children to bed. You two go clean up, and we'll meet you back here with some supper."
CHAPTER TWELVE
AMY WOKE TO THE sound of low voices nearby. She kept her eyes shut tight—she had no intention of letting anyone know she was conscious, just yet—but even so, she could tell from the color inside her lids that morning had arrived.
Finally.
Several times during the interminable night, she'd awakened and floated to the surface of awareness, first hearing the soft crackling from the fireplace, then feeling the persistent burning in her right palm. And then she'd remember—and immediately force herself back into the depths of slumber. Back to where it was last week, and she wasn't alone in the world, and her only worry was her upcoming nuptials.
Once, she'd sensed a presence in the chamber and slitted her eyes open, peeking through the slits to see Colin watching her, his profile dark against the light of the flickering fire. She'd shut her eyes and lain perfectly still, feigning sleep until he left. He'd sighed heavily before closing the door behind him.
What kind of sigh had it been? she'd wondered vaguely as she lapsed back to her troubled dreams. A sigh of concern, or a sigh of exasperation?
He certainly seemed to be exasperated now.
"Bloody hell," she heard him say. "I want to take her with me. I need this over and done with. I've work to do."
"Well, it's not to be," a male voice answered reasonably. Ford or Jason, Amy reckoned. So they were back. "You'll have to deliver the children without her. You're not going to haul her around the countryside unconscious, are you?"
"Of course not!" Colin spat.
"Shh!" cautioned another unfamiliar masculine voice. The other brother, she supposed. "She might be ill, you know, if she's been sleeping this long."
Amy heard a couple of footsteps, then a warm palm pressed onto her forehead and rested there a few seconds. Colin. It had to be. "She's not hot," she heard him say, his voice closer now. "I checked her hand again last night. There's no infection."
Amy's heart fluttered at the thought of him caring for her while she slept. Perhaps she should let him know she'd
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