Chapter Eighteen #2
Closing his ears to Esme’s distress, Adam pulled the two men away from one another. “He is not worth it,” he told Jonah, shortly, giving him time to find his balance as Crispin stumbled against the table.
Jonah straightened his tunic, his breath coming fast. “I have never wanted to see a man’s head roll before this day.”
But Adam’s mind was speeding quickly in another direction. “Lady Esme accepted your ring, you say?” he demanded.
Crispin nodded. In parting the grappling men, Adam had swung his fist at the knight’s face. A steady stream of deep red blood now flowed from a cut on his lip.
“And you wanted to marry her?” Adam laughed, even though the situation was far from humorous. “You certainly seem possessed of the desire to marry her now.”
Crispin nodded again, his eyes blazing with fire. If his hands were not bound, Adam knew he would have been obliged to reach for his sword before now—for self-defense if naught else.
“So why did you ride away from Wolvesley?”
His question fell into silence. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Esme swivel her head toward him, her expression wondering.
He pushed his advantage. “Why did you not insist she marry you the next day? If the lady herself was willing?”
Crispin tried to spit away some blood. “The timing did not suit.”
Jonah laughed, hollowly. “You all but had the hand of Lady Esme de Neville. A prize far beyond your reach. And you say the timing did not suit?”
“There was something I must do. But that is of no consequence. As I say, Esme must marry me now, else face public humiliation.”
The knight’s voice was steady, but for the briefest of seconds, his gaze flew beyond his inquisitors to the tapestried chairs by the fire.
Adam turned slowly. There was nothing of note about the chairs, save a dark shape at the foot of one of them.
His pulse quickened. “What is that?” he asked.
“His satchel.” Esme was already hurrying toward it. “He brought it in last night.”
“Leave it.” Crispin’s eyes had widened with alarm. He lurched sideways to evade Jonah’s grasp and ran with surprising swiftness across the floor.
Adam stuck out a leg to trip him up before he made much headway. As the knight sprawled across the floorboards, Adam finally unsheathed his sword and held it at his chest.
“Stay where you are,” he ordered, trying not to take too much pleasure in the moment. “Esme, search his bag.”
“You have no authority to do so,” Crispin raged.
“That’s the trouble with people like us,” Jonah commented mildly. “We always think we have the right to do whatever we want.”
Adam did not allow himself to smile and consequently, his muscles to relax. He stayed focused, even as his mind whirred.
“There is nothing in here.” Esme’s shoulders sagged.
“Keep looking.” Adam’s fingers itched to conduct the search himself, but he dared not step away from the knight.
Jonah seated himself back down at the table and took a swig of ale, his hands shaking. If Adam had entertained any doubts as to his loyalty to his sister, they were now assuaged.
“There is a letter.” Cheeks flushed, Esme rose to her feet and carried it over.
“Give it to Adam,” Jonah said, surprising them both.
Adam took the parchment with one hand, his other still holding his sword at Crispin’s chest.
Was this a test, to see if he was able to read?
Rory Baine had his faults, but he had ensured that Adam’s early education was on parr with Callum’s.
Adam squinted at the cramped handwriting. The message was short, and the ink blotted, as if it had been written in haste.
“The letter states that Crispin should flee for his life,” he finally said.
“Please, can I see?” Without waiting for his answer, Esme took the parchment and stared down at it. His heart clenched to see how her shoulders shook.
“Roger Mortimer is arrested,” she murmured.
Her gaze lifted to her brother’s. “This is the news you brought us last night.” As he nodded in agreement, she looked down at Crispin.
“Why should that affect you so? Why should you flee for your life because the pretender to the throne has been arrested?”
Realization dawned across her pretty face just as Adam also slotted the puzzle together. Jonah slammed his cup down onto the table.
“God’s blood, the man’s a traitor,” he half-whispered.
“You left Wolvesley to attend Roger Mortimer?” Esme’s voice dripped with scorn.
“And Queen Isabella.” Crispin, to his credit, did not cower. “They were at Nottingham Castle. I was riding to their aid. But the dratted young king got there first.”
“You will speak of the King of England with respect.” Jonah pushed back his chair, his face weary now. “Ye Gods, my father will be shocked at this. For how long has he entertained a traitor in his ranks?”
“Roger Mortimer came once to dine at Wolvesley.” Esme gasped. “In the early days. Was that when you met him?”
Crispin’s face twisted with scorn. “My family has long been aligned with his.”
Adam cared little for the loyalties of the English aristocracy. He renewed his pressure on the sword, gratified when Crispin’s eyes traveled to its tip.
“This is why you have become so intent on marrying Lady Esme. ’Tis because your family will soon be branded as traitors to the throne, and you wish to enjoy the protection of the Earl of Wolvesley.”
“That is exactly the case.” Jonah nodded his agreement. “Had things gone differently, you would have left my sister high and dry.”
Esme sniffed. Adam thought she was about to say that might have been a better outcome.
“It seems you will get your wish, after all, Crispin de Gough,” Jonah said. “You will have your chance to speak before my father. You will do so in chains, as a traitor.”
“This changes naught,” Crispin tried one last time.
Even Esme laughed. “It changes everything,” she chimed in. “Do you think anyone will believe the desperate rantings of a traitor?”
Walking rather unsteadily, Jonah came to join them. He folded his arms and looked down at Crispin, before his gaze passed over Esme and Adam. “Let us have the carriage made ready at once,” he murmured. “We will all travel to Wolvesley.”