“Felicity,” she called.
An owl hooted back in reply. She looked about the empty courtyard and felt a fool.
How could she hope to find a small cat who might be anywhere at all?
Her exultation at helping Agnes drained away. She would be better off keeping to herself, staying away from people and certainly not taking charge of small creatures. She should have known better.
A gust of wind made her stagger backward and simultaneously, her childhood insecurities rose up to take hold. As a young girl, Esme had known, without anyone telling her, that she would never share Isabella’s beauty, nor Frida’s wisdom. She had been determined to make the best of it, but who was she fooling?
I have made a mess of everything.
“Felicity,” she tried again, her voice echoing around the silent outbuildings.
It was no good. Tears leaked at the corners of her eyes. Felicity was still small enough to be taken by an owl or a fox. Mayhap even another cat. There were several of them living wild in the barns.
I must try to find her.
She stepped further into the darkness, her boots stumbling on the uneven cobbles. Footsteps came toward her and in her state of distress, she feared that one of Callum’s mysterious villains was about to steal her away. She swung around to see Adam brandishing a lantern.
Her relief was quickly followed by a hot flush of shame.
“Esme.” Concern rippled through his deep voice. “What ails you?”
She gathered what dignity she could. “Naught.” She sniffed, wishing she had put up her hood so that her face might be hidden from the yellow light of the lantern.
“You are upset,” he stated calmly.
There was nothing to be gained by pretending otherwise.
“I have lost Flora’s cat. I left the back door open.” She gestured behind her. “She’s gone.”
Adam paused, swinging his lantern toward the barns and then back to her. “Then let us find her.”
Her knees weakened. “You would do that for me?”
“For you, for Flora, for Felicity.” He grinned, transforming from a stern-faced warrior to a kindly man. “We can at least try.”
“Thank you.” She took his arm and smiled up at him, holding on even when he flinched away. His green eyes showed such emotion, on the rare occasions when his face was not fixed in an expression of steel. She cleared her throat. “Where will we look.”
He pulled his gaze away from her. “Where would you go, if you were a cat?”
Her eyebrows shot upward. “That is not a question I have ever given any thought to.”
He was trying not to smile; she could see his lips puckering. “Still, ’tis a question that demands an answer.”
A droplet of rain fell onto her cheek. It would not do to stand about overly long in inclement weather.
“I would go somewhere warm and dry.” She was pleased with her deductions. “And mayhap someplace I could hide away.” She thought of Felicity’s small size and feline instincts.
“The hayloft.” Adam began walking towards the largest of the stone outbuildings.
But Esme hung back, assaulted by memories of the last time she had entered a hay store with a man.
Adam turned back in surprise. “Are you not coming?”
He had lifted the lantern high enough to illuminate the rugged lines of his face and the honest enquiry in his eyes.
Esme’s worries quietened. She had naught to fear from Adam. Had Callum not said the very same thing?
