Chapter Four #2
Esme was conscious of her undignified position on the floor, but she had no choice but to look up and see Adam proffering a gaily painted wooden ball toward the small boy.
“Thank you.” Christopher clutched the ball to his chest as if it was treasure.
“May I help you up?” Adam sounded partway amused.
“I can manage, thank you.” But she regretted not accepting his assistance as she staggered to her feet. “Good morn, Adam,” she said with as much grace as she could gather. Her skirts were twisted around her legs and would have to remain so, for now.
“Good morn, Lady Esme.”
He had tidied his appearance since yesterday, she noticed. His boots were polished, his breeches were spotless, and his waistcoat was buttoned neatly over a pale shirt.
A shirt which served to emphasize the hard lines of muscle running down his arms.
Esme took a breath. “Let us put titles aside if we are to spend so much time with one another.”
She may have imagined it, but the warrior appeared to blanche.
“So much time?” His voice raised with the question.
“Meals and such like,” she trilled, summoning her brightest smile. “I wanted to say thank you for agreeing to stay here with me. It means a great deal.”
Adam inclined his head. “You are welcome, milady.”
Perplexed at his continued use of her title, Esme held out her hand to Christopher, but her nephew was already running towards Adam, who scooped the boy into his arms and swung him around so he squealed with laughter.
“Your mother and father are looking for you,” Adam said.
“I am here.” Christopher was indignant.
“Let us reunite you.” With a faint smile in Esme’s direction. Adam began walking back down the gallery, his booted feet treating heavily on the wooden floor. Esme had little choice but to follow, tugging at her skirts to straighten them.
They arrived in the great hall to a scene of heartening domesticity.
Frida, Callum, and the children were seated at the long trestle table, breaking their fast with cold meats, fresh fruit and rounds of soft cheese.
Flora sat with the cat on her knee, seemingly telling it a story as she fed it with torn off strips of ham.
Merry burbled happily from her mother’s knee and Callum had his hand pressed atop of Frida’s.
They turned smiling faces toward the incomers.
“There you are, Christopher,” Frida exclaimed mildly. “Come and eat. ’Twill be some time before we have the chance for more refreshment.”
Adam set the little boy down and put his hand to the small of his back as he straightened up. “Will you break your journey at Novum Castellan?”
“Aye, that is our plan,” Callum beckoned them over to join the family. “Is the inn there still tolerable?”
Adam inclined his head, standing back to allow Esme to precede him. “Tolerable enough for a man travelling alone.”
“I do not require fine and fancy things,” Frida demurred, helping Christopher to fill his trencher.
“That will serve you well for the days ahead,” Adam jested, surprising them all with a fleeting smile.
His eyes were a most attractive color, Esme realized. Emerald green, like long grass in a meadow. They shone even brighter when he smiled.
If only he smiled more often.
“Frida is well warned over what awaits her,” Callum said.
Esme took her seat and plucked off a grape. “Why? What is it that awaits you?”
Her question was met with a tense pause. Frida and Callum exchanged a look and belatedly, Esme realized they might not like to discuss the details in front of inquisitive Flora.
“Kielder Castle is my ancestral home, but it does not offer the home comforts of Ember Hall,” Callum answered diplomatically. “Nor the warmth and welcome of Wolvesley.”
“To say the least,” Adam muttered. He spoke quietly, but his position, directly to Esme’s left, meant that she heard every word.
“When we first came here, Ember Hall was neglected and unloved.” Frida smiled genially at the table. “It did not take long to turn it around.”
“May good fortune shine upon you.” Adam bowed his head.
“All shall be well,” Christopher intoned gravely. At the look of surprise from the adults around him, his bottom lip quivered. “That is what you told me,” he beseeched his father.
“Aye, and I stand by it.” Callum patted his son on the head. “Eat up, lad. We must make haste.”
Frida got to her feet and extended a hand toward Flora. “Let us go and wait in the carriage.”
As Flora looked about to protest, Esme took her cue and quickly walked around the table to crouch beside the little girl.
“Is it my turn to hold Felicity?”
Flora nodded bravely, passing over the cat as a tear snaked down her rounded cheek.
“Goodbye, Felicity,” she sniffed.
“Safe travels, Flora,” Esme mimed in a squeaky voice which made her niece smile. She straightened up in time to catch a surprised expression on Adam’s usually immobile face.
Holding the cat meant that Esme’s hands were no longer free to pick at the tempting foodstuffs on offer, which was most inconvenient as her stomach was rumbling. But she did not think she was capable of taking a seat and settling the cat on her knee under the watchful gaze of Adam.
She did not wish to lose her dignity for a second time that morn.
There was a second flurry of greetings as Jonah arrived in the great hall. Her brother was walking with a stick, which was most unusual. Since childhood, Jonah had eschewed crutches, even if that meant his progress around their childhood home was slower than it could have been.
Vanity, Esme had always assumed.
Finally, Christopher had eaten what his father deemed sufficient, and they all trooped out to the waiting carriage. Esme hugged her sister goodbye, somewhat awkwardly because of the cat.
“Can she go outside on her own at all?” she asked Flora, working to take the plaintive edge from her voice.
Flora nodded sagely, giving Felicity a final stroke. “But not at night.”
With relief, Esme bent her knees to set the cat down, but the creature had other ideas, digging her claws into her shoulder until she relented.
“You’re a clingy thing,” she told her, as Felicity purred in victory.
Callum hugged her briefly. “Take care, Esme.”
“Of course,” she demurred.
“I have told Adam that ’tis unlikely you will encounter any trouble.”
“Most unlikely,” she agreed, closing her mind to thoughts of Crispin and what might happen if the young knight did indeed return for her, as he had promised.
Callum lifted his son up the carriage steps and swung himself inside after him. He was about to close the door when Frida called in protest.
“My jars and herbs.”
“Do you need them?” Callum asked from inside the carriage.
“Aye, I must be prepared.” Frida’s voice was firm. “Who knows what ailments and injuries we may encounter in the days ahead. I gathered some salves into a box. But the box is not in the cart. Is it there.” She must have pointed outside the opposite window, but Esme could not see her.
Before anyone could react, Adam came forward. “I will fetch them.”
“The box is heavy. You will need assistance,” Frida called, but Adam was already stalking across the courtyard. He shifted the makeshift box into his arms and a noise of clanking jars came from it.
“Be careful,” Frida cautioned. “Callum, go and help him.”
“There is no need.” Adam made steady progress back to the waiting cart, his muscles bulging and he lowered the box into an empty corner.
Esme was openly staring, safe in the knowledge that no one was watching her.
Yet with some sixth sense, Adam must have felt her eyes upon him. As soon as he had positioned the box of salves, his gaze met with hers.
Esme looked away, blushing.
Ye Gods, she had not anticipated this pull of attraction toward a man who was different in every way to Crispin.
Callum gave the signal, and the carriage moved off to a chorus of goodbyes. Soon Esme, Jonah and Adam stood in an empty courtyard. Jonah turned to go inside, complaining of the cold.
Esme directed a smile toward Adam. “Would you like me to show you around?”
Adam looked discomfited. “There is no need, milady. Callum already showed me all I need to know.”
Before Esme could demure, the tall man melted away in the direction of the barns. Esme’s lips puckered with disappointment and the cat shifted in her arms.
“Let us go in,” she said.
I am already talking to a cat.
How would she fare after several days of isolation?
Feeling dejected, she returned to the hall, mildly cheered by the soothing scents of lavender and woodsmoke. Jonah was seated at the trestle table, spreading a heel of freshly baked bread with soft cheese. An expression of irritation crossed his fine features when he beheld Esme.
“You must not look so fretful, Jonah. I do not bite.” She deliberately chose the furthest chair from her brother, firmly placing Felicity on the next chair along.
He chewed and swallowed before he answered. “I do not fear your teeth, sister. You have not bitten me since you were a child in the cradle.”
She met his sarcastic smile with one of her own. “Then why look so peevish?”
He scowled in reply. “What consequence is it to you?”
“I cannot guess,” she said airily as she indiscriminately filled a trencher with food. “Mayhap I care about your happiness. Have you ever considered that?”
“Nay, I cannot say I have.” He got up abruptly and reached for his stick.
“Jonah.” Despite her conviction that she had said naught amiss, she was contrite. “Please do not go. If we are to reside here together, we should at least be able to make polite conversation.”
“You forget, sister, this situation was not of my choosing.” He hobbled from the table.
“Can we not make the best of it?” she tried again.
He turned to face her. “That is precisely what I am doing. I shall be in the solar for the rest of the day. Pray, do not disturb me.”
Esme sighed as she watched him depart. Jonah’s mood was even sourer than usual. Perchance she should give him the benefit of the doubt and put it down to pain? Either way, it would not make for cheerful living.
“’Tis just you and me, Felicity,” Esme said to the cat.
Felicity purred and butted her head against Esme’s palm.
Whoever thought I would be grateful for the company of a cat?