Chapter Twenty #2
“Do not mock me, brother.” She straightened her spine and tried to look severe, despite a keen gust of wind which made her skirts billow outward. “I am asking your advice, heaven help me.”
Tristan folded his arms. “Are those the qualities that you prize in a man? Youth and a title?”
“Nay.” She shook her head quickly. “They are barriers that Adam himself persists in putting forward.”
“I see.” Tristan smiled down at her. “He is right to raise these matters. But if they mean naught to you, then they mean naught to me. From what I have learned of the man, he is no fortune hunter.”
“Forsooth, I think he would prefer it if I had no fortune.” Esme was earnest.
“Then methinks him a worthy suitor of Lady Esme de Neville.” Tristan smoothed back her hair with brotherly affection. “You should go and speak with him. I last saw him by the lake. It seems he has some fascination for Father’s swans.”
“Is that where he is?” Esme felt a jolt of impatience. “I had hoped he would come and find me.”
“Ye Gods woman, go and find him yourself. Do we men have to do everything?” Tristan raised his eyebrows, but she could see he was only teasing her.
Impulsively, she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He looked surprised.
“For not lecturing me.”
Tristan caught her hand. “I shall leave that duty to Father.”
She gasped. “You think he will be cross?” For a moment, she had forgotten all about Crispin and the turn of events that had brought her back to Wolvesley.
He smiled indulgently. “If he is, sister, he will not remain so for long.”
“What will he think of Adam?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
“I learned a few years since that our father values love above all else. He desires his children to be as happy as he and Mother are. He will care only that Adam is a man who truly deserves you.”
“He does.” She nodded vigorously.
“Then go and speak to the man, for pity’s sake.” Tristan gave her a little push. “If Mirrie is right, which she always is, he will have found these last hours more daunting than those on the eve of a battle.”
*
She considered returning to the keep for more suitable footwear, but Tristan’s last words rang in her ears and she ploughed on toward the lake, even as dampness pooled between her toes.
The setting sun cast deep orange rays over the expanse of water, lighting up the woods more beautifully than a hundred flickering candles.
Esme soon located Adam’s commanding figure.
He stood just feet from the shoreline with his back to her; his arms were folded and his head was lowered.
She hesitated, but only for a moment. Much as she baulked at interrupting a man so clearly deep in thought, this may be the only chance they had to converse before they were both swallowed up in polite chatter at tonight’s dinner.
Heart fluttering, she took the final steps toward him and came to a halt by his side.
“Beautiful, isn’t it,” she said.
Adam’s eyes stayed fixed on the lake. “More so than I ever imagined.”
Esme pressed her lips together. “Surely you have lakes in Scotland?”
“Lochs,” he corrected, with the glint of a smile. “Aye, we do. But I was not talking merely of the lake. Your home is beautiful, Esme. You are fortunate indeed.”
She glanced at the soft crust of mud beneath her feet, and the dark staining on her slippers. Standing on such unsteady ground made her anxious. And this was not a conversation that required any additional anxiety.
Seized by impulse, she reached down and tugged the ruined slippers from her feet. She sighed happily as her toes sank into the mud, wriggling them for purchase and feeling far steadier.
Adam’s eyebrows had disappeared beneath his thatch of hair. “What are you doing?”
“Paddling,” she said, deciding in that moment to walk closer to the shore. She squealed as cold water closed over her feet, but the chill was invigorating. “Come and join me.” she called over her shoulder.
“Are you touched in the head, lass?” His voice rose higher than she had ever heard it. “Your gown will be ruined.”
“I have spent far too long caring about gowns and ribbons,” she declared. “In the future, I shall follow Frida’s example and wear braccae should the mood take me.”
She heard him exhale, then felt him come to stand beside her.
“Your boots will be ruined,” she quipped.
“They can stand more than a bit of water,” he retorted.
He was so close; she was sure her arm would brush against his if she only leaned a little to the left.
But she could not pluck up the courage to do so.
“I am glad you are here, Adam,” she said in a rush.
Now she felt the force of his gaze turn fully toward her. “Are you certain of that?”
“Of course.” A small wave caught her unawares and she flung out her hand. But when she encountered the iron hardness of Adam’s chest, she pulled it back as if she had been scorched. “Why would you say otherwise?” Her voice showed her hurt.
Adam turned his gaze back to the swans, elegantly swimming in the center of the lake. “When we were at Ember Hall, there were times we seemed almost to be equals,” he said, honesty rippling through his words. “But now I see the real Esme de Neville.”
“Nay.” Without allowing herself to hesitate, she took his hand. As soon as his fingers linked with hers, she knew she was doing the right thing. “You already knew the real Esme de Neville.”
“This is too much,” he said, his voice strangely small. “Crispin was right about one thing. I am worth naught.”
“Do not say that.” Tears brimmed at her eyes, but she felt more angry than sad. “How dare you say that?”
Adam smiled, but this time it did not meet his eyes. “One thing I am sure of is my courage, milady.”
Esme swallowed and tightened her grip on his hand. “Courage is a quality most admired by my family. Courage, honesty, and a belief in true love.” Her voice quavered. “Do you believe in true love, Adam?”
So much time passed she began to fear he would not answer. Her limbs started to shake, though whether that was due to cold or trepidation, she could not say.
“I believe that I am in love with you, Esme,” he said hoarsely.
She felt weak with relief. “As I am in love with you.” Her knees were all but knocking together now. Adam put his strong arms about her and half carried, half dragged her back to the shore.
“This love makes you do strange things.” He rubbed her hands together and blew on them. “I do not even have a cloak to wrap about your shoulders.”
“You can wrap your arms about my shoulders,” she dared suggest, closing her eyes with joy when he did just that. Snuggled against his warm body, she felt happy and safe, once again. “If you love me, and I love you, then there is no more to discuss.”
“Esme.” He uttered her name like a prayer. One hand cupped the back of her head, whilst the other stroked the length of her spine. “I am the son of a farmer.”
“And I am the daughter of a woman who once sold healing salves in a village called Escafeld.”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “I have met your mother, and this description does not do her justice.”
Esme shrugged her shoulders, her body molding into his. “Nonetheless, it is true.”
“I have seen at least ten summers more than you,” he whispered against her head. “Mayhap more than that.”
“Then I will benefit from your wisdom and experience.” She reached up to place her hands on either side of his rugged face, loving the raspy stubble beneath her fingers.
“So, I am younger and wealthier than you would prefer. I can do naught to cure the first, although the passage of time will come to my aid, God willing.” She caught the flicker of a smile across his lips.
“For the second, the solution is simple. I will leave my wealth behind me.”
He gave a sharp intake of breath. “I cannot ask you to live a life of hardship.”
“I would rather live with you, in some drafty shack, than with some lord I do not love, however grand his castle.”
Adam rested his forehead against hers and blew out a breath. “I do not live in a drafty shack.”
She lifted her chin, so her lips skimmed his jaw. “So much the better then.”
“I do not live in a castle, either.” She felt his muscles brace when she kissed him again. “Well, in truth, I do. But ’tis not mine.”
Esme allowed her hands to roam over his broad shoulders, enjoying the way he shifted against her. “Do you have any further objections?”
He shook his head, closing his eyes and seemingly surrendering to her touch. “None that I can think of in this moment.”
“Then kiss me,” she breathed.
His kisses, back at Ember Hall, had been featherlight and gentle, but now Adam claimed her lips with a passion that left her with little doubt over how much he wanted her.
Esme’s feet rose out of the suction of the mud as he hauled her closer toward him, his hands roving over her silken gown and setting her body on fire.
She no longer felt cold, she no longer felt anything except the need to have his lips and his hands on her, bringing her to life in a way she had never before experienced.
When his palm came to rest over her breast, she gasped out loud.
“Esme,” he said in a strangled voice. “You will be my undoing.”
Her hands had intentions of their own, tugging up his shirt and exploring the warmth of his hard, muscular body.
The flat planes of stomach were a revelation, as was the part of him now pressing against her hip.
A delicious tension twisted in her core as she met his smoldering gaze.
Keeping her eyes fastened upon his, she traced her fingers on a downward path, knowing she had met her mark when his breathing caught in his throat.
He said her name once more, then seized her shoulders and rained a shower of hot kisses along her neck until his lips met the lacy edge of her gown.
His fingers fumbled with the impossibly tiny buttons keeping her from him, and she wasted no time in reaching up to help.
As soon as her gown sprang open, he freed her breasts with gentle fingers and feasted his lips upon them.
She wound her fingers in his hair and pressed him closer to her, as the twisting sensation in her core grew stronger still.
“Adam,” she breathed.
A mistake.
The sound of his name seemed to break the spell of their embrace. With one final, lingering kiss on her collarbone, he straightened up and held her against him. His heart thudded loudly inside his chest, just like hers.
“Why did you stop?” She could not help the petulance in her tone.
Adam took a deep, shuddering breath. “Because I am yet to meet the Earl of Wolvesley. When I do so, I want to look the man in the eye, without having to hide the fact that I have taken great liberties with his beloved daughter.”
She threw him an arched look as she re-fastened the buttons on her gown. “All I can say is I hope you get this meeting over with soon.”
Adam’s laughter echoed through the trees as he held her close once again. “So do I, Lady Esme.”