Chapter Fifteen #2
Fear coursed through her veins, but before she could think to respond, her chamber door was kicked open with such force the candle fell from the dresser.
An acrid smell of burning came from the rushes and Esme blinked in the sudden darkness.
But she did not waste the moment of reprieve.
Swinging her legs, she rolled to the other side of the bed and backed her way into the corner of the chamber.
Two men were fighting at the far side of the room, but it was hard to see who was who, much less who was winning. A cacophony of shouts and grunts came from them both. Esme wrung her hands, unable to think how she might help.
It must be Adam, who had come to her aid.
But she could not be of service to him if she could not see him.
With trembling fingers, she fumbled for her nightstand to find a taper.
The smoke from the rushes was thickening and making her cough.
At last, she secured a flickering yellow light which illuminated the scene.
Her frightened eyes took in Adam, breathing hard, tying a length of rope around Crispin’s wrists.
Crispin was face down on the bed with his hands behind him.
He was shouting expletives into the blankets.
As soon as he had the man secured, Adam poured the contents of the water jug over the smoking rushes. With a hiss, the burgeoning fire went out.
Adam exhaled loudly, his gaze travelling at once to Esme.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. Her hand was trembling so much the candlelight jumped and shadows startled around them, as if the chamber was packed with people.
“Release me at once, you wastrel.”
Adam showed no sign of having heard him. His eyes stayed focused on Esme’s face. “Are you certain he did not hurt you?”
“Aye,” she whispered. Blood pounded in her ears and her fingers shook. She must secure this taper before she started another fire.
Adam nodded, briefly. “I will take him away.” He hauled Crispin off the bed, as if the tall knight weighed little more than a child. “If that is what you want?” he added.
Esme bit down on her lip, alarmed that he needed to ask. “It is what I want.”
When they were gone, all the spirit went out of her, and she sank down onto the bed with an audible sob.
In recent days, she had come to doubt Crispin’s integrity. But never in her dreams had she believed him capable of such violence and cruelty. To think, she had pledged herself to such a man.
Worse. She had given herself to such a man.
Her vision blurred with salty tears, but she could not summon the will to blink them away. She knew not how much time passed before Adam returned and she raised her head to find him standing, awkwardly, before her.
“I have brought you this.” He handed her a goblet of the rich wine they had been drinking earlier. “For the shock.”
But Esme could only think of how Crispin had drunk from her goblet. Mayhap his lips had touched this very rim? She placed it on her nightstand without touching a drop.
“’Twas a kind thought,” she said, unable to look him in the eye.
“Will I leave you then, milady?”
“Nay.” Still unwilling to glance upwards, she reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “Pray do not, Adam. I am sorry if I appear ungracious.”
Immediately he sat beside her and placed a comforting arm about her shoulders. She leaned into his warmth and strength, and her trembling began to ease. Adam was a patient man. He gave her the time she needed without question, silently passing her a handkerchief when her tears began to fall.
“Where did you put him?” she asked at long last.
“In my chamber.” At her look of surprise, Adam pursed his lips. “’Tis the only room for which I have the key.”
“Of course.” Gratitude washed over for her his thoughtfulness in not alerting more of the household.
“The situation must be addressed again come the morn.” Adam tilted his head, thoughtfully. “I would see the man clad in irons and flung over the cliffs.” Esme gasped at the vision and Adam grimaced. “Is it not what he deserves for attacking you in your own home, where you should be safe?”
For a moment, Esme thought of Adam’s former love, Clara, who had not been safe in her own home.
But out loud, she said, “I cannot think clearly on this at all. Crispin is not the man I thought he was.”
She felt him stiffen beside her. When she lifted her head, he was gazing blankly at a tapestry on the opposite wall.
Pools of candlelight lit the chamber, and the smell of smoke still hung in the air.
This room had always been peaceful—in days past she had railed at the unending tranquility of it—but now its serenity had been severed, and even familiar objects seemed strange and untethered.
Tension and high emotion rolled around them in waves.
Some of it, she realized, coming from Adam himself.
“I have much to explain to you,” she whispered.
He gave the slightest shake of his head. “There is naught you have to explain, least of all to me. You are Lady Esme de Neville.”
“And you are the man whose opinion I value above all others.” Esme sat up straighter, so his arm slid from her shoulders.
As much as she missed his touch, she knew she must speak freely and honestly, not hide behind vulnerability or distress.
She pressed her palms together and took a deep breath.
“’Twas true what Crispin said to you, downstairs.
We were a betrothed couple. But ’twas only very recent. ”
“Did you love him?” Adam’s voice was without expression.
“I believed so. Certainly, at first. Crispin was a hearth knight for my father, and I thought him the handsomest man I had ever seen.” Esme plunged on with her tale, knowing her only hope was the truth. “We started meeting in secret not long after yule.”
Adam gave her the ghost of a sideways smile. “Secrecy can add excitement to the most commonplace affair.”
She felt the reprimand. “I see that now.” Tears were leaking from her eyes once more and she impatiently dabbed them away with his handkerchief. “’Tis strange to think of these events. They seem so long ago. So foolish. ’Tis almost as if they happened to someone else.”
“You do not have to speak of it, milady. I can guess at the bones of the story.”
“Nay, do not say that.” Her self-pity was replaced by a spark of frustration. “Do you not see what I am doing?”
Surprise flared in his face. “What?”
“I am explaining myself to you.” She placed her hand briefly on his chest for emphasis. “Because of all that has passed between us. Because of who you are to me.” She looked down, swallowing hard as she replaced her hand in her lap.
“And who am I to you?” His voice was strained.
“Someone important. Someone who should not seek to put distance between us by addressing me as milady.” She sniffed. “Though I can see why you might want to do so.”
It was a heartfelt plea such as she had never made before. Esme’s pulse pounded painfully as she waited for his response. When he gently placed his hand over hers, she exhaled with relief.
“Tell me your story, please, Esme.”
She turned her palm, so their fingers interlocked. The world around her grew steady and calm once more. She took a breath.
“It seemed as if every man in England was wrangling for my hand. Not for want of me, you understand? But in pursuit of my father’s coin and patronage.
” At Adam’s nod, she continued. “My parents threw a ball at which it was hoped I would choose a suitor. Crispin did not even turn up.” She screwed up the handkerchief in exasperation.
“Forsooth, that very night he planned to ride away from Wolvesley. I found him in his horse’s stable, ready to leave.
” Her words dried up as shame rose within her.
“And then?” Adam prompted calmly.
“I did the only thing I could think of to get him to stay.”
He was shocked. She could tell as much from his sharp intake of breath.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to explain.
“I kissed him, freely. I permitted things to go further. Though I did not quite think they would go as far as they did. But nor did I ask him to stop,” she added quickly, when she saw he was about to speak. “Nor did I protest.”
It is important to be honest.
Adam looked down at their cojoined hands. “And then he asked you to marry him?”
She cast back her mind to that fateful night, but the details were unclear. “He gave me a ring.”
“I see.” Adam breathed heavily.
“A ring made of straw.” A wave of heat rushed through her. “And then he left.”
“Oh, Esme.” Adam tightened his grip on her hand. “You deserve so much more than a ring made of straw.”
She made a strangled sound, somewhere between a sob and a burst of laughter. “I would not care what any ring was made of, so long as it was given to me by someone who truly loved me.”
Adam waited—and the room waited—for her to say the most important words.
“I know now that Crispin did not truly love me. Moreover, I have come to realize that I did not love him,” Esme quavered. Yet she ploughed on, knowing she might never get this chance again. “I know all of this, because I have learned something of true love since coming to Ember Hall.”
Adam’s response was to shift on the bed, so he faced her. With his free hand, he lovingly stroked back her hair.
“Because of you,” she whispered.
The smile he bestowed upon her was like dawn breaking after the darkest night.
“I have also learned something of love in these last days.” He squeezed her hand. “Because of you.”
Hope flared in her chest. “But you cannot still feel that way. Not now you know the truth about me.”
Adam’s gaze did not falter. “If you think that, then you underestimate the depths of my feelings for you, Esme.” He put a gentle finger to her lips when she went to speak.
“You are the same bold and beautiful woman I fell in love with. Naught has changed. Save the fury I feel toward the knave who so dishonored you.”
She placed her palm on his stubbled cheek, her breath catching in her throat as he leaned into her touch. “Let us not speak again of Crispin. He has stolen enough from us, this night.”
His kiss was sweet and gentle, and it unfurled all the emotions bound inside her so she feared her heart may crack open. She looped her arms around his shoulders and felt anchored.
Home.
They sat close together, arms wrapped around one another and their hearts beating to the same rhythm. Esme felt tension lifting from her body, until the urge to close her eyes became undeniable.
Adam’s lips skimmed the top of her head. “I should leave you to sleep.”
“Nay.” She tugged at his shirt, keeping him beside her. “Stay with me.”
“I cannot.” His face was serious.
“I feel safe with you here. All I want is to lay beside you and rest.”
For a moment, his arms tightened around her. “I will always keep you safe, Esme.”
“I know it.”
She did. She knew it with the whole of her being.
“Very well.” He lifted her chin and gazed deeply into her eyes. “If you promise to sleep under the covers.”
Yawning, Esme did as he bid, slipping under the blankets that he held open for her. “Why do you want me under the covers?”
He waited until she was settled on the pillows before leaning over and kissing her lightly on the lips.
“I may be your protector, Esme. But I am also a man of flesh and blood.” He threw her a rueful smile as he stretched out beside her, his long limbs kept separate from hers by the layers of blankets between them. “I am not a saint.”
She reached up and kissed him, full on the mouth, but only for a moment. “I am glad to hear it.”
She was still smiling, minutes later, when she drifted off to sleep.