Forevermore (A Jewel Trilogy Novella) by Lauren Royal

Author:Lauren Royal [Royal, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Historical Romance
Publisher: Novelty Books
Published: 2012-01-28T00:00:00+00:00

The charming dimples appeared when Cameron grinned. "You sing beautifully, princess." And finally, while Mary's sweet voice trilled the lilting tune, he dropped her hands and took Clarice's.

Mary made her way to a chair.

"Twelve years was he banish'd

From what was his due

And forced to hide in fields and woods

From Presbyterian crew;

But God did preserve him,

As plainly you do see

The blood-hounds did surround the oak

While he was in the tree."

Clarice's feet seemed to glide effortlessly, her body guided by Cameron's warm hands holding hers. Her gaze was locked on his compelling hazel eyes. Her blood pumped much harder than the sedate dance should warrant. Lud, what was happening to her? If her daughter weren't watching, she feared she'd throw herself into his arms.

His intimate smile suggested he just might be reading her mind, and her heart skipped a beat. His hands tightened on hers when she would have stumbled, but he didn't comment on her clumsiness. "She sings of King Charles's restoration, aye?"

"P-pardon?" The song was the farthest thing from her mind.

"I'm speaking of Mary." The dimples winked, telling her he was pleased with her discomposure. "Her song tells of the Restoration, of Charles hiding in the Royal Oak."

"Oh. Yes." Somehow, probably owing to Cameron's skill, her feet kept moving in time to the melody. He must have been jesting when he said he needed practice; he was a superb dancer. "It's a Cavalier ballad she sings. Cainewood—the whole village—was a Royalist stronghold throughout the Civil War. In support of the marquess, you understand. His family was fiercely Royalist—his parents both died in the Battle of Worcester."

"Do you remember that?"

"Most certainly." Then she remembered something else, and her heart dropped to her knees. "You were too young, weren't you? I'd wager you don't remember the Commonwealth. It was no trial to you, was it, that sad period in our history?"

For a moment, lost in his gaze and the dance, she'd forgotten their age difference. But it would be there, wouldn't it? Always. Different life experiences.

"Nay. I don't remember overmuch," he admitted, confirming her suspicions. "I was but a bairn. And though London holds rule over Scotland, you must remember we are quite far removed from what happens here."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "We haven't much in common, do we? You're Scottish, I'm English…"

A profound sense of loss swept through her as her words trailed off.

"So let the bells in steeples ring,

And music sweetly play,

That loyal Tories may…n't…forget

The…twen…ty…ninth…"

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