Chapter Two #3
“My wife as well?” Callum gazed down at her, with so much love shining from his brown eyes that Esme felt her own heart turning over.
“Your wife as well,” Frida murmured.
In another moment, they would be kissing one another. Esme could not bear it. She clapped her hands to capture their attention. “That is just as it should be. Jonah and I will take care of Ember Hall in your absence.”
’Twas the wrong thing to say, she realized this almost immediately. Frida’s blue eyes widened with anxiety and Callum shook his head.
“Nay, lass. You cannot stay here. You must return to Wolvesley Castle, where you will be safe.”
“I will be safe here.” She spun around to look entreatingly at Jonah, the brother she had scarcely seen since her arrival. “Tell them, Jonah.”
But her brother only shrugged, his face creased with pain. “I have not been well these last weeks,” he said, resting his golden head on the back of the chair. “Mayhap Callum is right, Esme. You should go home.”
Esme’s mind was racing. “If you are unwell, ’tis better that I stay here and look after you.
” She looked at him with new concern. “Is it your leg?” Her brother was elegantly dressed in spotless breeches and leather boots which hid the fact that, from the knee down, one leg was narrow and twisted.
“You should rest, that’s what Mother always says.
I shall fetch and carry and ensure you have all you need.
” She rubbed her hands together, as if the matter was settled.
“I am not quite so feeble that I cannot take care of myself,” Jonah said distastefully, narrowing his blue eyes.
“Then I shall give you all the space you need, whilst being here if you need me.” Esme was well accustomed to her brother’s moodiness. She would not let him spoil her plans.
“Esme, it cannot be done.” Frida passed the babe to her husband and crossed the room to stand beside her. “You are always welcome here, you know that. But without Callum’s protection, it is simply not safe.”
Esme looked into her sister’s earnest face and saw the prospect of sanctuary rapidly disappearing.
But if I return to Wolvesley, I will be pressed to accept a suitor.
“You have always said that Jonah is as skilled with a sword as Tristan.” She made her voice light.
“Has she?” Jonah looked almost interested.
Here is my chance.
Esme nodded vigorously. Her skirts swirled as she playfully mimed a sword thrust.
“Even Tristan admits it.”
Jonah gave her a strange sort of smile. “You think that between us, Esme, we could keep vagabonds and thieves at bay?”
“I do,” she declared, feeling victory within her grasp. “Forsooth, Jonah, ’tis most unlikely we will encounter any.”
“The fact remains that Jonah is not in full health right now.” Frida held up her hands as if forbidding further discourse.
Esme could have stamped her feet. “There are guards,” she began.
“None that I would trust with such a precious assignment.” Callum smiled over at her from his position by the fire as Merry cooed in his arms.
Under different circumstances, Esme might have smiled back. Frida’s husband was a handsome man. But right now, she felt more inclined to scowl.
“I do not wish to return to Wolvesley,” she declared. “I wish to remain here.”
“We cannot always get what we wish for,” her sister retorted, calm as ever.
Frustration surged inside her, but Esme knew she could not allow the full extent of her feelings to surface. Giving herself time to recover, she wandered over to the window and had all but arrived there when she remembered the mysterious man sitting by it.
It was too late for her to alter her path.
Esme continued to walk steadily forward.
The man was tall, she realized. Taller even than Callum, which was no small feat.
And he was wide. His broad shoulders took up almost the whole width of the window.
His hair was long to the nape of his neck, and the light streaming in behind him picked out strands of silver shining amongst the dark curls.
Their eyes met briefly before he turned away.
His eyes were green. His cheekbones were sharp. His hands, resting lightly on the cushioned seat, were large and clean.
Esme paused uncertainly, she had been intent on ignoring him, as he had ignored them. But now that she was standing so close, his magnetic presence was hard to snub.
“I am Lady Esme de Neville.” She dipped into a small curtsy, thinking that a show of good manners might unsettle him.
Slowly, he turned his head to their eyes met once again. He did not appear unsettled.
“Adam Hawker,” he said, his voice rough with lack of use. He did not rise up from his seat or even offer her a bow from his seated position.
Callum cleared his throat. “Adam has served my father since I was a boy.”
Not a relative then.
“You are a warrior, sir?” she addressed the large, silent man.
He nodded.
“And you rode here to inform Sir Callum of his father’s failing health?”
She received another nod.
“A trusted warrior, I dare say?” She fixed him with her brightest smile.
“I believe so, milady.”
A frisson went through her as their gazes clashed. He clearly had not wanted to respond to her questions, but Esme was yet to encounter a man who could resist her smile.
She turned that same smile back toward Callum. “You said earlier that there is no man’s opinion that you take greater heed of, did you not?”
Callum nodded. “I stand by every word.”
“And you trust him, just as your father does?”
“I do.”
Esme put her head to one side, pretending to think it through. “Well then,” she said brightly. “Why not leave me in the safekeeping of your man, Adam?”