She pursed her lips, the mole at the edge of her jaw shifting in the most beguiling way. “Then why go to the effort of building this shelf?”
“I am open to selling the lot, not the griffin, but I will do everything in my power to keep it safe. Hence the fortification.”
She shook her head. “Why is that one piece so important to you?”
“I told you, it’s part of my family crest.”
“No.” She studied him as if he were a fresh find inside a sarcophagus. “It’s more than that.”
He huffed a long breath. The woman was far too perceptive. And as she’d already said, he knew her well enough by now to understand that she’d not retreat until she had the truth of the matter.
“In a sense, I suppose it is.” He rubbed the back of his neck, working out the knot of tension that never failed to form when thinking of the past. “My father was an unyielding man, MissDalton. Craving success more than anything. To be fair, hewassuccessful ... and I never measured up to his standards.”
“But—” She spluttered. “How absurd. You are the most prosperous businessman I know, that all of Oxford knows for that matter.”
“It is kind of you to say so. My father never did.” He dropped his hand. He’d dealt with the bitterness of his father’s coldness long ago, but the loss remained ... and no doubt it would haunt him until his dying day. “That griffin, Miss Dalton, is a symbol of my family’s heritage, one I will live up to or die in the trying. I don’t expect you to grasp the sentiment, just to accept it.”
The lines of her face softened, as did her voice. “Your father was wrong about you, but I know my saying so doesn’t mean you’ll believe it. That’s the thing about fathers, they tend to have a way to make us feel like needy, negligible little children—save for our heavenly Father, that is.” Her gaze drifted to the ceiling, a profound peace radiating from her. “We are never insignificant in His eyes. It’s a promise I keep in my pocket and pull out when life takes a dreary turn.”
He inhaled sharply. What a wonder this woman was. Stalwart in her faith. Intelligent. Innocent in a refreshing way, yet beneath that simple work apron was a spine of steel. If he didn’t get away from her immediately, he really would pull her close and kiss those full lips of hers. “A good reminder, Miss Dalton. And now I shall let you get back to your work, as we should make way for the carpenter to finish up his labours in here.”
Wheeling about, he hastily stepped over the big toolbox—almost, that is. The hem of his trouser caught on the handle. He flailed, hand smacking against the pedestal holding the vase. The movement helped him catch his balance—but not so for the vase. It toppled sideways.
Miss Dalton lunged, catching the valuable relic—andcrashing headlong into him.
He went down hard, rolling at the last moment to bear the brunt of her tumble as he cradled her.
“Are you all right?” He shifted her in his arms, gaze sweeping over her face.
Frowning, she wrenched the vase from between them and gave it a good look then relaxed against him. “I am now.”
Her eyes met his, her frown wavering. Good heavens. Was she near tears? He couldn’t take it if she wept. A woman’s tears were something he couldn’t control.
But she burst into laughter, shoulders shaking.
And though for the life of him he didn’t know why, he chuckled right along with her. Which only made her laugh all the harder. Eyes watering, heartfelt guffaws shook them both until at last they each lay flat on their backs, gasping for breath, the vase nestled safely between them. Why, he’d not enjoyed such a rollick since—
“Price?”
“Edmund?”
“Oh dear.”
The words came in unison at the door from three different voices.
He pushed up.
Then wished he hadn’t.
Barnaby, Lord Bastion, and his daughter, Violet, all gaped on the threshold.
“What is the meaning of this, Price?”
Ami eased into a sitting position as the question growled from wall to wall, an animal seeking prey. She revised that opinion the moment her gaze landed on the man who’d bellowed it. This was no beast but a fowl—a sharp-eyed falcon of a fellow with a beak nose. His pomaded hair was smoothed back like brownish-grey feathers, and she got the distinct impression she must move carefully around him, or he’d swoop against her.
And his talons would draw blood.
The woman next to him was just as dangerous, if the serrated stare she scraped over Ami and Mr. Price was any indication.
