Callum would never leave her in the safekeeping of a man he did not trust absolutely.
She smiled briskly and joined him, taking his arm so she might better pick her way across the cobbles under the yellow glow of the lantern.
A thought niggled at her brain; one she could not ignore.
Callum would never have left her in the safekeeping of Crispin.
She imagined her plain-spoken brother-in-law eyeing up the knight who had so readily walked away from her.
Callum would have found Crispin wanting.
Adam stood back to allow Esme to enter the stable block ahead of him. “Here, take this,” he said, passing her the lantern when she paused in the darkness.
“Thank you.”
Esme had a fear of cobwebs, and the musty stable seemed as if it might be full of them. But she could not shrink away and wait outside; not without abandoning yet more of her dignity. She took a deep breath and began to clamber up the wooden staircase to the hayloft, holding the lantern before her like some kind of lucky charm. Once or twice, she stepped on the ends of Frida’s cloak and risked tipping backwards into Adam’s arms. She managed to save herself, but the idea of it made her smile inside. Without incident, they emerged into the hay-scented warmth of the loft, where Adam was obliged to duck his head beneath the low ceiling.
“Can you see her?” he asked. His hand was on her shoulders, though whether this was to steady her, or to steady himself, she could not say.
She liked the weight of it. Indeed, she fought an urge to move closer to his muscular body. ’Twas hard to see more than mere outlines in the half-light, but those outlines were mighty attractive.
“Esme?”
A beat too late, she remembered why they were here. Turning back to the well-stacked hay, she swung the lantern in an arc.
“Felicity?” she called.
There was no reply, save a slight scratching sound.
Esme raised her eyebrows questioningly, but Adam pursed his lips.
“Rats,” he suggested.
“Rats!”
It took every ounce of self-restraint she had not to jump into his arms.
“But that isn’t a rat.” He nodded over her shoulder. “’Tis a cat.”
“Felicity.” Relief flooded her. The small black cat was curled up amidst a pile of hay. When Esme stroked her head, she stretched out her front paws and yawned widely. “You had me very worried,” Esme told her severely.
“Never was a cat so well-tended.” Adam nudged her with his elbow, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“I am only following Flora’s instructions.”
“As is right and proper.” He gave her a little bow. “Shall we return to the hall? Or is there some other animal you wish to locate?”
“We should return.” Esme passed the lantern back to Adam and scooped up the cat. “I will lock you up,” she threatened Felicity.
“I shall go down first, then turn around and light your way.” Adam brushed past her at the top of the stairwell, making her newly conscious of his height and strength.
He did exactly as he promised, holding the lantern high so that Esme felt quite safe descending the wooden stairs with the cat in her arms. In no time at all, they had reached the frontdoor of the hall. Esme ensured the door was closed behind them before settling Felicity down on the stone flags.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely.
But Adam’s previous ease seemed to have once again vanished. He stood awkwardly, a few feet away from her, his arms hanging by his sides.
“You are welcome, milady. I’ll say goodnight to you now.”
