“May I help you up?” Adam sounded partway amused.
“I can manage, thank you.” But she regretted not accepting his assistance as she staggered to her feet. “Good morn, Adam,” she said with as much grace as she could gather. Her skirts were twisted around her legs and would have to remain so, for now.
“Good morn, Lady Esme.”
He had tidied his appearance since yesterday, she noticed. His boots were polished, his breeches were spotless, and his waistcoat was buttoned neatly over a pale shirt.
A shirt which served to emphasize the hard lines of muscle running down his arms.
Esme took a breath. “Let us put titles aside if we are to spend so much time with one another.”
She may have imagined it, but the warrior appeared to blanche.
“So much time?” His voice raised with the question.
“Meals and such like,” she trilled, summoning her brightest smile. “I wanted to say thank you for agreeing to stay here with me. It means a great deal.”
Adam inclined his head. “You are welcome, milady.”
Perplexed at his continued use of her title, Esme held out her hand to Christopher, but her nephew was already running towards Adam, who scooped the boy into his arms and swung him around so he squealed with laughter.
“Your mother and father are looking for you,” Adam said.
“I am here.” Christopher was indignant.
“Let us reunite you.” With a faint smile in Esme’s direction. Adam began walking back down the gallery, his booted feet treating heavily on the wooden floor. Esme had little choice but to follow, tugging at her skirts to straighten them.
They arrived in the great hall to a scene of heartening domesticity. Frida, Callum, and the children were seated at the long trestle table, breaking their fast with cold meats, fresh fruit and rounds of soft cheese. Flora sat with the cat on her knee, seemingly telling it a story as she fed it with torn off strips of ham. Merry burbled happily from her mother’s knee and Callum had his hand pressed atop of Frida’s. They turned smiling faces toward the incomers.
“There you are, Christopher,” Frida exclaimed mildly. “Come and eat. ’Twill be some time before we have the chance for more refreshment.”
Adam set the little boy down and put his hand to the small of his back as he straightened up. “Will you break your journey at Novum Castellan?”
“Aye, that is our plan,” Callum beckoned them over to join the family. “Is the inn there still tolerable?”
Adam inclined his head, standing back to allow Esme to precede him. “Tolerable enough for a man travelling alone.”
“I do not require fine and fancy things,” Frida demurred, helping Christopher to fill his trencher.
“That will serve you well for the days ahead,” Adam jested, surprising them all with a fleeting smile.
His eyes were a most attractive color, Esme realized. Emerald green, like long grass in a meadow. They shone even brighter when he smiled.
If only he smiled more often.
“Frida is well warned over what awaits her,” Callum said.
Esme took her seat and plucked off a grape. “Why? What is it that awaits you?”
Her question was met with a tense pause. Frida and Callum exchanged a look and belatedly, Esme realized they might not like to discuss the details in front of inquisitive Flora.
“Kielder Castle is my ancestral home, but it does not offer the home comforts of Ember Hall,” Callum answered diplomatically. “Nor the warmth and welcome of Wolvesley.”
“To say the least,” Adam muttered. He spoke quietly, but his position, directly to Esme’s left, meant that she heard every word.
“When we first came here, Ember Hall was neglected and unloved.” Frida smiled genially at the table. “It did not take long to turn it around.”
“May good fortune shine upon you.” Adam bowed his head.
