One Magic Moment by Lynn Kurland

before he looked any longer where he shouldn’t have. Truly, he wasn’t interested in her or her life or what she thought of living in a castle when she likely could have sold the thing and bought herself a quite comfortable country home. Perhaps she was a glutton for punishment. Perhaps she was another of those unrealistic souls who thought medieval times to be quite romantic.
    Perhaps she was just a lovely woman doing the best she could with what she’d been given.
    He supposed it would be wise not to speculate. He checked his watch, continued to stir, then followed Tess’s instructions about removing things from the heat. He happily let her take over when she returned, did what she asked, then stood with her as the kitchen gels began to carry in supper. Tess watched the last one leave, then looked at his case in the corner for a moment before she looked up at him.
    “Is that a guitar?” she asked finally.
    He took a deep breath. “A lute, actually.”
    She closed her eyes briefly. “I’m not quite sure how to thank you.”
    He bit his tongue around an offhand remark about rescues and their limited number where she was concerned and instead settled for a nod. He walked over and took his lute out of its case, just to give himself something to do. He finally turned to look at her, because he couldn’t put it off any longer. She was watching him guardedly, as if she thought he might just turn and bolt if she weren’t careful.
    A wise woman, that one.
    “Is there a chair by the fire?” he asked.
    “I’ll find one.”
    “I’ll fetch it,” he said. “You hold this.”
    “I’m not sure I dare.”
    The truth was, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to dare. She looked almost as unsettled as he felt. If she were going to drop something, ’twas better that she drop a chair. He looked at the stove a last time to make certain everything was off the fire, then nodded toward the passageway.
    “I need something without arms,” he said. “I’ll just provide atmosphere, unless you’ve something else in mind.”
    “Would you sing?” she asked faintly.
    “Only if your diners have been excessively courteous to you so far.”
    “Background music it is, then.” She shot him a look. “Please be polite.”
    “Why would you think I would be anything else?” he grumbled, but she had already started for the passageway and perhaps hadn’t heard him.
    He caught up to her in a pair of strides, then contented himself with walking alongside her up the way to the great hall. In the end, he fetched his own chair, then set it next to the fire. He rolled down his sleeves, sat, then shrugged aside the unease he felt over playing things that spoke too loudly about what he was. Rich, spoiled Londoners were annoyances, not dangers. They likely wouldn’t remember him or his music, so there was no reason not to simply play what he liked. With that in mind, he started at the beginning of his repertoire and worked his way through it to the last.
    And whilst he did, he watched the goings-on in the hall. He didn’t want to, but he unfortunately had a very good memory and didn’t have to concentrate on what he was playing.
    Tess’s guests were miserable louts, every last one of them. The women were the worst, looking down their noses at their meals and rolling their eyes at their surroundings, which even John had to admit were spectacular. Whoever had restored Sedgwick had done a smashing job. The men were less conceited than the ladies, but just as critical. John would have thought his contributions to the evening to be of no worth at all if he hadn’t caught out of the corner of his eye the looks he was having from a pair of the trio of women.
    He suppressed the urge to send back looks of disdain. After all, he’d promised he would behave.
    Tess endured it all with absolutely no taking of the bait being offered. He had to admit he was impressed. He wouldn’t have managed it for ten minutes, much less three hours.
    He played for