She swallowed painfully, unwilling to follow her thoughts further. Either way, these days apart from Crispin had broken the spell of attraction and intrigue. Now her desire to be with him was murkily entwined with the painful knowledge that sheshouldbe with him, because of what they had done.
Esme sighed deeply and looked back down at her father’s message.
Impossible.
Even if she wanted it, she could not return to Wolvesley as the prospective bride of some great lord. Esme did not claim to understand all the workings of the world, but she knew the men bidding for her hand expected two things of the match.
Her dowry and her virginity.
She could bang her head against the stone and rail against her stupidity, but it would achieve naught but further pain.
Nay, she had no choice but to make the best of it. She must bide her time and wait for Crispin to come for her.
Esme pushed herself to her feet, buffeted once again by the strong wind coming over the cliffs. She would return to Ember Hall and write a reply to her father. ’Twas not fair to keep him waiting. Praise be, her reputation for cold indifference to suitors may mean her rebuttal would not come as a surprise.
She would be like Jonah, her youngest brother, who had claimed sanctuary at Ember Hall for almost as long as Frida had lived here. He said the peace and quiet soothed his soul and eased the pain in his wasted leg. Mayhap she would also come to find some reprieve from her troubles in these lonely hills.
Though right now, Esme was not willing to count on it.
*
As soon asshe walked back through the front door, she knew something was amiss. A great clamor of voices came from the great hall, as if many people were speaking at once. Loudest was Callum, Frida’s husband; a man who did not usually raise his voice.
“Our lives need not all be uprooted by this,” he declared as Esme entered the room.
Wide-eyed, she took in the scene. Frida and the children stood in a huddle by the fire; the youngest, Merry, in her mother’s arms. Callum paced opposite them. His rugged face had turned a paler hue than Esme had ever seen it. Jonah sat awkwardly on one of the tapestried chairs, studiously ignoring a small black cat who was winding around his legs.
And upon the furthest-away window seat, perched a man all in shadows, whom Esme did not recognize.
“What is happening?” she interrupted.
Callum waved a brawny arm in her direction. He was dressed in breeches and a heavy tunic, as if he had just come in fromwork in the fields. “Naught of note. I shall be away a few days, that is all.”
Frida huffed and shifted the weight of the babe in her arms. Her silver hair was in danger of coming loose as Merry patted and tugged at it. “Naught of note indeed. Your father is ill, mayhap dying. ’Tis a matter of enough import to merit discussion.”
Callum folded his arms across his muscular chest. “I shall go to him and say my goodbyes.” His voice broke, betraying the distress he was trying hard to keep at bay. Even Esme could see that her usually unflappable brother-in-law was upset. He fixed his gaze down at the floor until Frida went to stand by his side, then he leaned against her in a momentary display of vulnerability.
“We shall come with you,” Frida said quietly.
“’Tis too far. The children are too young.”
“The children are healthy and so am I.” She lovingly pushed back a tendril of his dark brown hair. “Would you deny me this last chance to meet your father? Or your father this last chance to meet his grandchildren?”
Callum grasped her hand as if he were drowning. “I tell you, Frida, ’tis not like that. Kielder Castle is not Wolvesley. My father is not yours.” He glanced toward the man on the window seat. “Adam will confirm that my ancestral home is no place for our children.”
The man sat back so he was even further overshadowed, but he said nothing.
“You can speak freely, Adam,” Callum persisted. “There is no man’s opinion that I take greater heed of.”
Even the children looked toward the window seat in expectation, but Callum’s plea was met with continued silence. Esme’s eyebrows shot up. Was this man a servant or relative of some kind?
Frida allowed a moment to pass, before briskly taking up where she had left off. “We shall pack a few things and be ready to leave by first light on the morrow.”
Callum opened his arms wide, his gesture taking in the vast hallway as well as the courtyard and fields beyond the windows. “I cannot ask that we abandon our duties here.”
“You have not asked,” Frida interrupted. “Besides, the harvest is all brought in, and our stores are full. ’Tis not even Michaelmas and we are already set for winter.”
Frida and Callum locked gazes in a battle of wills.
