He cleared his throat, telling himself that the warmth in his cheeks was due to his proximity to the fire.
“I am hardly skilled enough to be your teacher. I am certain your brother, Lord Jonah, must be a better player.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Jonah is far too clever to waste his time on a dullard like me.” She stroked the cat who resumed its loud purring. “Besides, my brother has stated hisintentions of remaining in the solar. You will have to forgive his rudeness; Jonah has always been a law unto himself. I’m afraid ’tis just you and I, Adam.”
Just you and I.
Whilst Esme’s attention was fixed on the cat, Adam allowed himself to glance in her direction. Now that he had spent more time in her company, he could see that her resemblance to Clara was spurious. They were both slender young women, with golden hair and winning smiles. That was the beginning and end of it.
What had put him so in mind of his lost love, was the way Esme made him feel.
’Twas the way Clara had once made him feel.
Light of heart. Hopeful. As if life was his for the taking.
He leaned back against tapestried head rest and tried to recall why he had been so adamant to stay away from her.
“I am glad to discover you play chess. You do not have the appearance of a man much used to rest and relaxation.”
Surprised, he swung his gaze to meet with hers. “How so?”
“Even sitting in this chair, you are not relaxed. Your body is braced to flee.”
He could not tell her the truth.
That my wariness is on account of her beauty.
“There is little room for relaxation in the life of a warrior.”
She considered this with her head to one side, as the logs crackled in the grate and the setting sun cast a fiery glow about the distant hills, still visible through the open shutters.
“Even now? With peace declared between England and Scotland? My brother Tristan is a knight through and through, but even he has lain down his sword and embraced the life of a happily married man.”
Her words stung like saltwater on a fresh wound.
Adam avoided her gaze and closed his mind to what he might have enjoyed as a happily married man.
“I would argue that now is as fraught a time as any, milady.” His voice showed his strain. “England has a young, impressionable King who stands in the shadow of an ambitious interloper, ever greedy for more.”
“Roger Mortimer.” Esme nodded. “He has dined at Wolvesley, with my father.”
But Adam was no longer thinking of Roger Mortimer. He considered instead that he was an ambitious interloper, daring to converse with the daughter of an earl as if he were her equal.
When his duties were to guard her, as a servant.
He abruptly rose to his feet, making the startled cat jump down to the floor.
“I will bid you good night, milady.”
Esme’s eyes opened wider. “But the sun is barely setting. We have not yet eaten.”
“’Tis not my place to eat beside you,” he said gruffly.
Esme stood up, graceful as a dancer. “You must eat, Adam.”
He was gauche and awkward at her side. “With the servants, in the kitchen.”
“Nay.” She made an impatient gesture. “You are a personal friend of Callum’s.”
