Chapter Six #2
Perchance there was something in here that would help Jonah with his pain.
Esme resolved to return in the daylight. But thoughts of her brother had helped her to recall what Frida used to treat his many injuries.
Mint on an open wound. Comfrey once it had closed.
Esme could not have identified comfrey in a darkened room if someone offered her coin to do so.
But mint had a distinctive smell. She stood on her tiptoes and sniffed at the bunches of dried herbs until she was satisfied, she had the right one.
Smiling, she lifted it free and all but ran back to the kitchen.
“Here,” she thrust the bunch of dried mint toward Agnes.
At the cook’s surprised look, Esme shrugged her shoulders. “I am not certain what to do with it. But mint is what Frida would choose in place of honey.”
Agnes’s eyes creased at the corners as she smiled. “Thank you, milady.” She took the herbs. “I shall work things out from here.”
More light of heart than she had felt for many days, Esme prepared to leave the kitchen. The sliver of fish in the corner caught her eye as she turned.
“Where is Felicity?”
“The little cat?” Agnes put down the mint and looked about her. “She was here just a minute ago.”
“I left the back door open.” Esme froze, flooded with horror. Flora had explicitly said that Felicity should not go out at night.
I have failed her.
“I daresay she will come back if you call her.” Agnes did not look convinced.
Nonetheless, Esme ran back into the darkening night, Frida’s cloak slipping over her shoulders.
“Felicity,” she called.
An owl hooted back in reply. She looked about the empty courtyard and felt a fool.
How could she hope to find a small cat who might be anywhere at all?
Her exultation at helping Agnes drained away. She would be better off keeping to herself, staying away from people and certainly not taking charge of small creatures. She should have known better.
A gust of wind made her stagger backward and simultaneously, her childhood insecurities rose up to take hold.
As a young girl, Esme had known, without anyone telling her, that she would never share Isabella’s beauty, nor Frida’s wisdom.
She had been determined to make the best of it, but who was she fooling?
I have made a mess of everything.
“Felicity,” she tried again, her voice echoing around the silent outbuildings.
It was no good. Tears leaked at the corners of her eyes. Felicity was still small enough to be taken by an owl or a fox. Mayhap even another cat. There were several of them living wild in the barns.
I must try to find her.
She stepped further into the darkness, her boots stumbling on the uneven cobbles. Footsteps came toward her and in her state of distress, she feared that one of Callum’s mysterious villains was about to steal her away. She swung around to see Adam brandishing a lantern.
Her relief was quickly followed by a hot flush of shame.
“Esme.” Concern rippled through his deep voice. “What ails you?”
She gathered what dignity she could. “Naught.” She sniffed, wishing she had put up her hood so that her face might be hidden from the yellow light of the lantern.
“You are upset,” he stated calmly.
There was nothing to be gained by pretending otherwise.
“I have lost Flora’s cat. I left the back door open.” She gestured behind her. “She’s gone.”
Adam paused, swinging his lantern toward the barns and then back to her. “Then let us find her.”
Her knees weakened. “You would do that for me?”
“For you, for Flora, for Felicity.” He grinned, transforming from a stern-faced warrior to a kindly man. “We can at least try.”
“Thank you.” She took his arm and smiled up at him, holding on even when he flinched away. His green eyes showed such emotion, on the rare occasions when his face was not fixed in an expression of steel. She cleared her throat. “Where will we look.”
He pulled his gaze away from her. “Where would you go, if you were a cat?”
Her eyebrows shot upward. “That is not a question I have ever given any thought to.”
He was trying not to smile; she could see his lips puckering. “Still, ’tis a question that demands an answer.”
A droplet of rain fell onto her cheek. It would not do to stand about overly long in inclement weather.
“I would go somewhere warm and dry.” She was pleased with her deductions. “And mayhap someplace I could hide away.” She thought of Felicity’s small size and feline instincts.
“The hayloft.” Adam began walking towards the largest of the stone outbuildings.
But Esme hung back, assaulted by memories of the last time she had entered a hay store with a man.
Adam turned back in surprise. “Are you not coming?”
He had lifted the lantern high enough to illuminate the rugged lines of his face and the honest enquiry in his eyes.
Esme’s worries quietened. She had naught to fear from Adam. Had Callum not said the very same thing?
Callum would never leave her in the safekeeping of a man he did not trust absolutely.
She smiled briskly and joined him, taking his arm so she might better pick her way across the cobbles under the yellow glow of the lantern.
A thought niggled at her brain; one she could not ignore.
Callum would never have left her in the safekeeping of Crispin.
She imagined her plain-spoken brother-in-law eyeing up the knight who had so readily walked away from her.
Callum would have found Crispin wanting.
Adam stood back to allow Esme to enter the stable block ahead of him. “Here, take this,” he said, passing her the lantern when she paused in the darkness.
“Thank you.”
Esme had a fear of cobwebs, and the musty stable seemed as if it might be full of them.
But she could not shrink away and wait outside; not without abandoning yet more of her dignity.
She took a deep breath and began to clamber up the wooden staircase to the hayloft, holding the lantern before her like some kind of lucky charm.
Once or twice, she stepped on the ends of Frida’s cloak and risked tipping backwards into Adam’s arms. She managed to save herself, but the idea of it made her smile inside.
Without incident, they emerged into the hay-scented warmth of the loft, where Adam was obliged to duck his head beneath the low ceiling.
“Can you see her?” he asked. His hand was on her shoulders, though whether this was to steady her, or to steady himself, she could not say.
She liked the weight of it. Indeed, she fought an urge to move closer to his muscular body. ’Twas hard to see more than mere outlines in the half-light, but those outlines were mighty attractive.
“Esme?”
A beat too late, she remembered why they were here. Turning back to the well-stacked hay, she swung the lantern in an arc.
“Felicity?” she called.
There was no reply, save a slight scratching sound.
Esme raised her eyebrows questioningly, but Adam pursed his lips.
“Rats,” he suggested.
“Rats!”
It took every ounce of self-restraint she had not to jump into his arms.
“But that isn’t a rat.” He nodded over her shoulder. “’Tis a cat.”
“Felicity.” Relief flooded her. The small black cat was curled up amidst a pile of hay. When Esme stroked her head, she stretched out her front paws and yawned widely. “You had me very worried,” Esme told her severely.
“Never was a cat so well-tended.” Adam nudged her with his elbow, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“I am only following Flora’s instructions.”
“As is right and proper.” He gave her a little bow. “Shall we return to the hall? Or is there some other animal you wish to locate?”
“We should return.” Esme passed the lantern back to Adam and scooped up the cat. “I will lock you up,” she threatened Felicity.
“I shall go down first, then turn around and light your way.” Adam brushed past her at the top of the stairwell, making her newly conscious of his height and strength.
He did exactly as he promised, holding the lantern high so that Esme felt quite safe descending the wooden stairs with the cat in her arms. In no time at all, they had reached the front door of the hall. Esme ensured the door was closed behind them before settling Felicity down on the stone flags.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely.
But Adam’s previous ease seemed to have once again vanished. He stood awkwardly, a few feet away from her, his arms hanging by his sides.
“You are welcome, milady. I’ll say goodnight to you now.”
This time, she was having none of it. Esme closed the distance between them and took hold of his elbow.
“You will not say good night,” she said sweetly. “You will sit with me in the great hall, and we will play a game of chess.”