Chapter Twenty-Two
Esme’s chamber was lit only by flickering candles, for darkness had fallen over the castle like a blanket. Heavy clouds obscured any light from either the moon or the stars, so there was little to be gained by gazing out of the window.
Instead, she paced over the thick rugs on her floor and wondered how she would ever last through the long hours until the morn.
Impatience scratched at her skin, making her abandon her woolen shawl and fold her arms over her white night rail.
Just like down at the lake, the chill air served as welcome respite from her circling thoughts—but this time, there was no Adam to warm her with his kisses and his embrace.
What has occurred between Adam and Father?
She bit down on her lip until she tasted blood.
Why has Adam not come to find me?
God’s bones, why had Tristan insisted on playing game after game of chess; keeping her some sort of prisoner in the great hall so that she was unable to wait outside father’s solar until Adam came out?
’Twas as if Tristan and father were in league with one another. Against her.
But Tristan had sent her in search of Adam, earlier that day. And her brother was not one to switch allegiance; not unless he identified good cause.
Esme stamped her feet; the sound muffled by the thick rugs. She wished she could howl out her frustration. But that would only alert the maids, who would likely bring her a sleeping draught.
Mayhap a sleeping draught would not be the worst idea. ’Twould at least see her through the long hours of night.
As if in answer to her inner thoughts, a knock sounded on her chamber door. Esme crossed the floor and flung it open, half expecting to find her lady’s maid wielding a medicine goblet.
“Mirrie,” she said in surprise.
Her sister-in-law smiled. “I hope I have not woken you, Esme?”
Esme flung out her arms. “I have no prospects of sleep this night.”
“That is what I thought.” Mirrie nodded toward the tray in her slender hands. “I have brought you some warmed milk.”
Perplexed, Esme stood back to let her in. “That is very kind.”
Mirrie settled the tray on a side table and turned to face her. “I remember how it feels, to not know how the future will unfold.”
Esme twisted her hands over her churning stomach. “You mean, you and Tris?”
“Aye.” Mirrie drew her shawl further over her shoulders. “Though back then, I was not certain there would ever be me and Tris. So many obstacles stood in our path.”
“Surely not?” Esme was incredulous. “The two of you were the best of friends. Then you fell in love and got married. ’Twas the simplest love story ever told.”
Mirrie laughed, pushing a long strand of hair away from her face. “That is not how I remember it.” She laid a cool hand atop Esme’s. “But I did not come here to speak of the past. Only to deliver the warmed milk.”
That was not true. Mirrie was no natural deceiver, and Esme could sense the turmoil in her.
She held lightly onto Mirrie’s fingers. “I am most blessed to have such a thoughtful sister. But you could have sent a servant. Next time, pray do not walk about the keep in the dark. Especially not in your condition.”
Mirrie’s cheeks pinked in the candlelight. “But I have a particular message for you, that a servant could not properly deliver.”
Esme held her fingers tighter, anticipation surging within her. “What message?”
Mirrie hesitated. “I hope you will not think less of me, when I tell you.”
“I will think less of you if you prevaricate further.” Esme smiled to take the sting from her words.
“Ignore me, ’tis impatience that puts a barb on my tongue.
How could I ever think less of the woman who was such a constant friend to Frida?
And now makes a happy man of my brother Tristan?
You are a blessing to us, Mirrie.” She leaned closer.
“Tell me, please, before my heart bursts out of my chest with impatience.”
Mirrie breathed out a small laugh. “’Twas I who showed Adam to his chamber, earlier this day.”
“Aye.” Esme waited, expectantly.
“I took him to the eastern wing. To the chamber with a view of the lake.”
Mirrie withdrew her hand and smiled as if in farewell.
“Wait.” Esme was confused. “Is that it?”
“That is all I came here to say.” Mirrie paused in the doorway and placed her hands on the rounded swell of her belly. The torchlight from the corridor shone around her like a halo.
“But the eastern wing is largely empty?” Esme was beginning to put the puzzle together.
“Indeed, it is.” Mirrie nodded, sagely. “Conversations could take place there, especially at night. And no one would be any the wiser.”
“Conversations?” Esme arched her eyebrows.
Mirrie nodded firmly. “Conversations.” She took a step backwards. “Good night, Esme.”
“Good night.”
Esme watched Mirrie disappear down the corridor, her mind whirring.
Can I really creep through the keep to Adam’s chamber?
A smile puckered at her lips. Mirrie clearly thought she could. And Mirrie was a bastion of good sense and propriety.
At least, that was what Esme had always thought.
Perchance I am not the only de Neville to err from the proper path, after all?
The idea was a revelation, but she did not waste any further time considering it. Instead, she pinned a cloak over her shoulders and lit a taper from her nightstand, sheltering the flame with a cupped hand as she ventured out into the corridor.
The night air carried a chill, but darts of excitement kept her warm as she crept onward.
Wolvesley Castle was as familiar as the back of her own hand, and she knew which floorboards would squeak and which would not.
She deliberately avoided the main gallery, picking a path through the upper story of the keep, which was less frequented by guards and passing servants.
Her breath plumed in front of her, threatening to extinguish the candle on more than one occasion.
But she reached the eastern wing without incident.
Only one chamber had a view of the lake. Esme tightened her grip on the candleholder and crept toward it, stepping through the pools of light thrown by the wall torches.
Might he be sleeping?
Might he resent me interrupting his rest?
Esme pushed the thoughts away. She had come too far to turn back now. Her knuckles had scarcely made contact with the grooved wood of the door when it was flung open.
Adam stood in the doorway and gazed at her. He was still fully clothed in the black-and-gold tunic he’d worn for dinner, though his tousled hair looked as if he had dragged his hands through it many times.
“Esme,” he breathed. “I hardly dared hope it would be you.”
Standing on the threshold, Esme’s courage all but failed her. She swallowed hard and lifted her chin.
“I missed you, after dinner.”
“I missed you, too.” He gestured with his hands. “By the time I finished speaking with your father, you had already retired for the evening.”
“You and father clearly had much to discuss.” She tried to keep her voice trembling with a combination of nerves and impatience.
“We did.” A smile broke over Adam’s face, making him appear younger and more carefree.
Or is that my imagination?
He peered over her shoulder, looking all the way down the empty corridor. “Is it safe for us to talk here?”
“As safe as anywhere.” Esme grabbed her courage with both hands and stalked past Adam into his chamber. The sight of his familiar shirt, abandoned atop of the bed, made her pause, her flesh tingling with excitement.
This was Adam’s private chamber.
They were alone.
And Lord, how she wanted him.
But beyond all else, she wanted to know what had transpired in her father’s solar.
He stood with his back against the fastened door. Esme slowly swiveled to face him, trying to read from his expression whether the outcome was good or bad.
Adam’s green eyes glowed like a cat’s, but the rest of his face was in shadow. The candle in her hand quivered.
“Well?” she demanded.
“’Tis dark in here.” Adam took the candle from her, then used it to light the wall sconces.
Slowly, the chamber came to life with a flickering glow.
With painful slowness, he positioned Esme’s candle atop a blanket box, then he came to stand before her.
“This is not how I imagined having this conversation.”
“Oh.” She was momentarily thrown, but his large hands smoothed her hair from her face, and she found herself melting into his touch. “How did you imagine it?”
“I imagined inviting you for a walk by the lake.” He chuckled softly. “I am quite taken with the place.”
She half closed her eyes, surrendering to the sonorous pleasure of his voice as well as the gentle pressure of his palms. “I thought it was the swans that had stolen your heart.”
“Aye, the swans are mighty fine creatures.” He skimmed his thumbs over her cheekbones. “But my heart already belongs to another.”
Esme’s breath caught in her throat. “And what would you have said, down by the lake?”
Adam gave a low chuckle. “In truth, I have spent less time imagining the words I would use and more time imagining what I might do after I said them.” He put his hands to her waist and pulled her closer, so she could feel the warmth emanating from him.
The air seemed to leave her lungs. “What might you have done?”
“I might have kissed you.” His lips hovered inches from hers. “Perchance I might have done more than just kiss you.”
Esme’s lips parted involuntarily. “I would have liked that.” She wanted him to kiss her now and wondered why he did not.
He grinned wickedly, his white teeth gleaming in the candlelight. “I would have made certain that you did.”
Still his lips remained out of reach, even as his hands spanned her waist, holding her in place.
She linked her hands around his neck. “And what is stopping you now, Adam? Must we walk down to the lake to accomplish all of this?”
“Nay.” His breath warmed her bare neck, making her tremble all over again. “But there is a question I must ask of you first.”