She shook her head. “Don’t misunderstand my critique. I believe finding another giant will prove quite enough of a challenge.”
Even as she spoke, her gaze lifted to ponder the massive fell looming to her left above a line of trees fencing the road. Then she surveyed the long, narrow body of water to her right. The road threaded the needle between the water and the fell, hugging the outline of the lake.
“What were the names of the fell and the lake?”
“Helvellyn and Thirlmere, respectively.”
“Betwixt water’s edge,” she murmured, “and the hip of Goliath.” She looked to Adam, who had apparently been watching her. “Between the edge of the lake and the base of the fell?”
A smile spread across his face. “Of course. A perfectly fine interpretation. And if correct, then we remain on an accurate course toward whatever comes next.”
“And whatever comes next appears to involve a marsh and an old fortress. Surely, we cannot miss both.”
“Surely.”
They ambled in silence for a time to the steady rhythm of clopping hooves in their wake. As usual, Barlow and Aunt Hester trailed at some distance, engaged in conversation. If Jane did not know better, she would have thought them on a holiday walking tour rather than a search for hidden treasure. She sighed in amusement.
“What do you find so humorous?” Adam asked.
“Oh, nothing, really. Other than the desolation of this place. We may as well be in some primitive locale, such as Tasmania, or the Himalayas, or Parliament.”
He laughed. “It does lack for signs of civilization. Not unlike Parliament, as you say. However, I find the austere beauty of it intoxicating. How the trees cling to the lake’s edge but dare not challenge the slopes of the fell. How the sunlight on the water makes it appear as if the lake has captured all the stars in the heavens for a day. How the silence allows even the breeze to speak its secrets.”
She stared at Adam in mild surprise. “If I did not know better, I’d say you were an aspiring poet, sir.”
Color rose up his neck, and he picked at his scarf. “Not a very good one.”
“On that, we are agreed.” His immediate glare of affront prompted her to abandon the good-natured taunt. “I was merely teasing. Your description was lovely. Even Marlowe might have approved.”
“If only Marlowe had not been stabbed to death during a pub brawl, then perhaps he might have.”
“I am no Marlowe, but I approve.” She swept her gaze again to the shimmering lake. “An apt description.”
He dipped his forehead. “Thank you. I wonder, could you live in such a forlorn place?”
She briefly cocked her head in thought. “I believe so, given appropriate company.”
“Appropriate company?”
“Someone I love.”
“Someone?”
“A husband, Adam. A husband that I love. With such company, I could be content here for a lifetime.”
“Even with a mousy, condescending man whose overly large nose whistles when he breathes?”
Jane snorted, recalling their earlier conversation about what each found attractive. “No. But I thank you for remembering, even if what you recall was said in jest.”
“You are welcome.” He peered at her with interest. “So, then. What do you really seek in a man?”
The question brought her immediate discomfort. How could she answer truthfully without admitting how much Adam currently fit the description? She opted for frankness.
“Very well. He must be kind to me and to others. He must be confident, yet humble. He must display a functional sense of humor. Oh, and I do not at all mind a man more primitively constructed. With, say, the build of a field hand.” She forced a laugh. “Too bad you possess none of those qualities, Mr. Ashford.”
He cocked a single eyebrow so high it nearly disappeared into his hairline. A grin spread across his face. “Yes. Too bad.”
“See here. As you appear to possess no fear of social boundaries, let me turn your question back on you. Unless, of course, you were not jesting earlier and do prefer a frivolous woman without an original thought.”
