“You have my word.” Callum rose from the chair and clapped him on the shoulder. “Though you should not speak in such haste. This lonely corner of England has brought me much peace and happiness.”
“Aye, well.” Adam found his lips twitching up into a smile. “I do not aim so high as that.”
“A few days’ rest, making sure no churl carries off my wife’s sister. I dare say you should grasp this opportunity. Who knows what perils await us all if that man, Roger Mortimer, has his way? This tentative peace between England and Scotland would not long survive.” Callum shook his head.
Adam had long ceased to follow the intricate twists of English politics, but he knew of the man Callum referred to.
“He is too power-hungry.”Much like Rory Baine, he reflected.
“Whereas we both know the power that peace can bring.” Callum offered his hand. “Do we have an agreement?”
A few days rest.
The chance to sleep easily in my bed.
Adam clasped the man’s forearm with an iron grip of his own. “We have an agreement.”
Chapter Four
Frida had notbeen exaggerating when she said they would be ready to leave at first light. Indeed, the first rays of dawn had scarcely permeated the darkness when Esme was woken from her slumber by hurried footsteps and shouted instructions. She pulled her blankets all the way over her head and determined to stay in bed for as long as possible, but a tentative knock sounded on her chamber door.
Quelling a deep surge of irritation, Esme sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Come in.”
The door creaked open, and a hovering candle appeared, floating less than three feet above the ground.
“Ye Gods.” Esme clutched at her blankets, recalling Frida’s past dalliances with the spirit world and fearing the worst.
“’Tis only Flora,” someone piped in a familiar voice.
Esme blinked and slowly the scene came into better focus. Her young niece stood in the doorway, holding both a candle and the small black cat that had been pestering Jonah yesterday.
“Come in.” Esme beckoned her in, yawning widely. She lit a taper and put a flame to her own night light, pleased to banish the shadows.
Flora balanced her candle on the trunk at the foot of the bed and clutched the cat closer. “Aunt Esme, can I ask a favor of you?”
“Anything.” Esme sat back against her pillows and smiled vaguely. The last vestiges of sleep still muddled her thoughts, though she had resigned herself to wakefulness.
“Will you take care of Felicity whilst I’m gone?”
Felicity?
Esme blinked.
“My cat,” Flora clarified, her big blue eyes fixed on Esme.
“Your cat?” Esme stretched her arms above her head and rotated her head. She had slept well enough but was accustomed to a softer mattress and thicker pillows. “Do cats do not fare very well for themselves?”
“Not this one,” Flora insisted. She had lost a tooth recently and spoke with a bit of a lisp. “Mama said she’s the runt of the litter and would have likely died if we didn’t look after her. She’s still not fully grown yet.”
Esme switched her gaze to the purring black cat in her niece’s arms. The cat gazed back without blinking.
“Mama says the journey is too long and it wouldn’t be fair to take her. Also, that she might run away and get lost.” Flora pressed her face to the cat’s fur, obviously disturbed by the idea.
“Felicity.” Esme straightened her blankets and tried to gather her thoughts. “That’s a very grand name for such a small cat.”
“Mama said I should name her for what I wanted her to be.”
Confused, Esme could only raise her eyebrows questioningly.
