Chapter Seven #2
Esme matched his more jovial tone, picking up her goblet and taking a long drink of wine. “The sons, mayhap.”
“But not the daughters?”
He should bring this interlude to an end, not indulge with banter that was becoming flirtatious.
“You saw yourself what an almighty fuss was made over my simple desire to remain at Ember Hall. When the continued presence of Jonah is never called to question. He is one who can do as he pleases.”
Adam pictured the young man with a face sharpened by pain.
“Do you really think that is true?”
Esme looked away from him, fixing her gaze once again on the fire and sighing deeply. “Nay, ’tis not so simple. Jonah has troubles of his own. We all do.” She shrugged.
Adam found himself moved by this show of vulnerability. It tugged at his heartstrings and brought him even closer to danger.
“I am sorry to hear that, milady.”
Her response was swift. Immediately she moved her hand so that it covered his. “Nay, do not call me that. You have been doing so well.”
He should move his hand away, but Ye Gods, he did not want to.
Esme’s fingers were long, slender and warm. The warmth went straight to his heart. As seconds ticked by and neither of them moved, tension began to fill the air between them. Adam dared not raise his head to meet her eyes. He dared hardly breathe.
It was Esme who finally lifted her hand from his and spoke up as if naught amiss had occurred. “Tell me, Adam, what is it that you would do differently, if you could live life as you pleased?”
It took a while for him to find his voice. Even longer for his mind to make sense of the question.
I would leave the service of Rory Baine. The words were on his lips, but loyalty—to Callum if no one else—meant he could not utter them.
“I would work the fields.” Instead, he voiced his youthful ambition. “As a farmer,” he clarified. “Just as my father before me. With land to pass onto my sons.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes widening in surprise. “’Tis not common for a warrior to seek a life of peace.”
He thought of his father’s readiness to lay down his weapons. “’Tis more common than you might think.”
Silence fell between them, but it was not an awkward silence. The log crackled in the fire and occasional footsteps sounded overhead. Adam fancied he could hear the old house stretching and settling itself, ready for the night ahead.
Her next question was more hesitant. “You would like sons?”
Adam swallowed. This was not a matter he had given voice to for many years. “Of course. If I were living life as I pleased.”
A pain of some kind flickered in Esme’s eyes. But it had gone as soon as it appeared, leaving Adam to wonder if he had imagined it.
“What about you?” He smiled, to relieve the tension. “What would Esme de Neville do differently?”
Ye Gods, he was not anticipating the shimmer of tears in her beautiful eyes.
But her voice was steady as she replied. “Many things, too many to list here.”
“Tell me just one.” He wanted to see her smile again.
Esme met his gaze levelly. “I will not do that until we have more wine.” Before he could protest, she had crossed the room and pulled again on the bell rope.
“’Tis late,” he tried, pursing his lips regretfully.
But Esme shook her head, golden hair flying out around her. “You asked me a question and I shall give you an answer.” She looked inside her goblet and replaced it on the table with a huff of displeasure. “Entirely empty,” she explained.
This time, Jennifer anticipated the request and brought a full pitcher of wine into them. Adam eyed the scarlet liquid and tried to ignore the voice of warning in his head.
Esme refilled their goblets and sat back, cradling hers. “If I could do anything I pleased, I would learn how to wield a sword.”
Adam all but choked on his mouthful of wine.
“That is not what I expected to hear.” He was pleased to see Esme’s customary smile return.
“I am a woman of surprises.”
“You are.” His mind sounded another note of warning. But the wine was rich and good, and Adam found that he could easily ignore these warnings. “Might I ask why?”
“Why I wish to train with a sword?”
He nodded.
“Is that not obvious?” Esme’s fingertips drew imaginary circles on the table. “If I could wield a sword well, I could protect myself.”
“You would have no need of me?” The words came from him before he could think better of them.
But Esme’s eyes danced as she met his challenge. “I would have need of no man.” She put her goblet on the table and opened her arms wide. “I could go wherever I pleased, and no man would say ’tis not safe for you to stay here.”
“As Callum did?”
“Exactly that.”
“But soon you will marry and have a wealthy husband to protect you.” His gaze clashed with hers and held it.
Esme did not allow a beat to pass. “Nay, I will never marry.”
The shock of this proclamation robbed him again of words. “You are a woman of surprises,” he echoed.
“It has been said before.” Esme took another long mouthful of wine and Adam, unable to think what else to do, did the same.
I will never marry.
She had stated this with conviction, with no blushing coyness or scarcely veiled irritation at a former suitor.
“’Tis no passing fancy,” she broke into his thoughts. “I mean what I say.”
“I do not doubt it.”
Silence fell between them once again. This time, Adam was painfully aware of Esme’s proximity; of the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the bodice of her gown and the sadness he had glimpsed in her eyes.
Something must have happened.
But ’twas no business of his. He must not ask any questions, despite his longing to offer comfort.
But I can offer her a solution.
“Did you know that I was the one to first teach Callum how to swing a sword?”
Interest flared in her finely-boned face. “I did not.” Her fingers danced along the tabletop. “You must have taught him well. My brother Tristan is not easily impressed, but he sang Callum’s praises when they trained together at Lindum.”
Adam brushed aside the compliment. “That is all due to Callum himself, not my early training.”
“Nevertheless.” Esme threw him a smile and he knew she wanted him to make the offer that was waiting on his lips.
He breathed through his nerves. “I will do the same for you, if you wish?”
“You will teach me to use a sword?” Esme grasped the tabletop and leaned forward in delight, as if he had offered an introduction to Queen Isabella herself.
“We will see how far we get.” Commonsense was taking hold now. Esme was an earl’s daughter. Surely, she could not rampage along the moors with a wooden sword?
Esme clapped her hands in delight. “You will find me a fast learner,” she promised, darting up from the chair and miming a sword thrust, much as she had on the day Adam first arrived.
He found himself laughing along with her enthusiasm. “That is another thing that I do not doubt.”
She grew still and serious. “You have made me very happy.”
“You are welcome.” He had never meant it more.
“May we start on the morrow?” Her eyes shone with hope.
What have I done?
“We may,” he confirmed.
Esme took two quick steps toward him, leaned down and planted a quick kiss on his forehead. The gesture took him so by surprise, he did not react at all.
“Thank you, Adam,” she whispered.
By the time Adam had recovered his composure, the lady had disappeared. He was alone by the flickering fire, with a hundred conflicting thoughts warring in his head.