The reluctant cavalier (30 page)

Then the brilliance died, and the dimness returned.

"Oh!" cried Annabella.

Parsifal looked down at his hand and at her outstretched one. There was nothing there but the chain. He looked up and met Annabella's eyes. He looked about him—it had not fallen to the floor, for he would have heard it if it had. He glanced up at the portrait, then drew in a sharp breath.

There, on the middle finger of the right hand of the thirteenth earl was a ring, plain and somewhat dull from age, where there had been no ring before.

He looked at Annabella; she, too, had been staring at the portrait. She turned to him, wonder and astonishment clear in her eyes.

"I suppose ... I suppose it was the ring, all along," he whispered.

Annabella stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head and smiled.

"Oh, no, my love, I think not."

He looked at her, his brows raised in question.

"Perhaps it was, at first, but later .. . no. I ask you: Did you have the ring when you came to my rescue that day?"

"Why ... no, I did not."

"Or when you kept the cart from rolling into the villagers?"

"No."

She went to him and touched his face tenderly before she kissed him. "Ghost or no ghost, Cavalier or not, it was you who came to my rescue all those times, and you who acted in a most heroic manner. I think if it had not been in you from the start, nothing would have made you do it." She gave him another kiss. "You are far too modest, Parsifal. I will remind you of it until you remember."

Parsifal grinned and took her into his arms. "I will become as insufferable as Geoffrey if you do."

"Then I will nag until you become my own Parsifal again."

Parsifal brought her closer and kissed her deeply. They parted after a while, and he laughed. "My love, I think we need to go down to our breakfast. Kisses are not enough for me these days, I'll need some sustenance if we are to do more than kiss."

Annabella blushed and took his hand, and when they left the gallery, she closed the door behind them.

The room was silent now, and dust motes floated through another beam of sunlight that strayed across the Long Gallery. It shone upon the portrait, and the sun's rising rays struck the ring upon the thirteenth earl's hand. It made it glisten once more, lighting the portrait until it seemed to glow.

A sigh like a faint breeze echoed through the room, then it was silent and dim once more.