Free A Loving Spirit by Amanda Mccabe Page B

strange accord.
    It should have been an uncomfortable moment, a nervous thing. Yet it was not. It just felt—right. Completely right, to be here with this man, in this moment, alone in the quiet of the night.
    Then he looked away, and the odd enchantment was broken. Cassie, too, glanced away, afraid she might be overcome with this strange emotion, these vague yearnings, and start to cry.
    "Why must we go specifically to the tunnels on Friday?" he asked in a strained voice. Then he leaned back casually in his chair, his arms crossed, and Cassie thought she must have imagined that hoarse tone, that moment of intimacy. "Why not the drawing room or the breakfast room?"
    He could not be feeling the same way she was. He was logical and rational; she was prone to flights of romance and fancy.
    She tried to focus her mind on his question. "Antoinette says that the phase of the moon will be just right on Friday, and somehow her fainting episode told her that the tunnels are the right place. I fear I have not studied these things as she has, so I could not tell you why that is. You will just have to come and see for yourself."
    "Oh, I shall. I am quite looking forward to it." The old tone of doubt was back in his voice, in his expression.
    Cassie could feel them falling back into what was already a familiar pattern, and she was grateful for it. She would need time alone, time when she was not so confused, to examine these strange new feelings. "And so am I, Lord Royce. Very much."
    "You know, 'Lord Royce' sounds terribly formal, considering our circumstances. Perhaps you could call me Phillip? Just when we are alone?" He sounded quite endearingly shy and hesitant as he asked this, not at all like his usual self.
    Cassie's eyes widened in surprise at this informality. "Call you—Phillip?"
    "Well, you do not have to, of course. It just sounds ridiculous for you to be calling me Lord Royce all the time."
    "I should like to call you Phillip. When we are—informal like this. Perhaps you could also call me Cassandra."
    He smiled at her. "Very well, then, it is a bargain—Cassandra."
    She smiled, too. Her name on his lips sounded different than when anyone else had ever said it. It sounded exotic and elegant, and very sweet.
    "Would you care to go riding with me tomorrow, Cassandra?" he continued. "Mother has assigned me to deliver some invitations to the masked ball to her friends in the village. You could meet some of them."
    "I would like that very much, Phillip. Thank you." Then the little clock on the fireplace mantel struck two. Cassie looked at it in surprise. "Is it so late already? I should retire."
    "Yes," he answered. "So should I."
    Cassie stood up, still holding the book in her hands. "Would you mind if I borrowed this? I would like to finish reading it."
    "Not at all. Keep it as long as you like."
    "Well, then. Good night." Then she hurried off to her own chamber, the book clutched very tightly against her.
    * * *
    Phillip watched Cassie leave, then sat down in her vacated chair behind the desk.
    The faint scent of her perfume still clung to the air. Phillip shook his head to try to clear it of the enchantment of that fragrance.
    What a very odd night it had been. He had been unable to sleep, unable even to stay still in his bed. Something in his mind had kept urging him to get up, to go to the library. He had thought it was just an urge to work, something that came on him rather often late at night.
    Then he walked into the library and saw Miss Richards—Cassandra—sitting there. Her black hair fell loose from where she had tied it back carelessly with a ribbon, and the candlelight gave it the sheen of the ocean at night. Her eyes were wide and dark and startled as she looked up at him.
    Phillip usually disliked it when people came into the library, a place he regarded as his own sanctuary. But it seemed strangely right to see her there.
    It seemed right to see her anywhere in his home. In the short time she had been