He nodded stiffly.
“Gerrault?” She bit her lip once more. “You won’t tell anyone about this, will you?”
“I play no part in castle gossip.”
“You won’t tell my mother?” she burst out. “Please.”
“If you return to the ball, Lady Esme, as far as I am concerned, there will be naught to tell.”
She would have thanked him again, but the ageing stablemaster had already turned away and melted into the darkness. Esme held up the lantern in front of her face and ignored the buzzing of nighttime insects as she found her way to the cobbled stable yard. Sure enough, a torch blazed beside the stable of Crispin’s destrier.
Her heart thumped inside her restrictive bodice.What was he about?
Esme’s legs turned to jelly, and she clung to the shadows of the barns. Crispin loved her. He had said as much. So why had he not come to the ball as promised?
She stifled a sob as a dozen answers sprang to mind. Her sister Isabella, long since married to the elderly Earl of Felsham, had spoken scornfully to her about men and what they truly wanted from a woman.
And thatthingthat they wanted, was the only thing Esme had ever denied Crispin.
She swallowed and gripped the lantern harder. Surely that didn’t matter? Not when they had been secretly courting for over a year.
Not when he called her his faerie queen and promised to love her forever.
Esme could have told her mother that she already knew the joy and meaning of true love.
True love was like a fever. It was a racing heart and a mind that could concentrate on one person alone. It was a pair of brown eyes that made her stomach churn.
Esme had long taken joy from the fact that Crispin wanted her for who she was, not for her position or coin. Whereas other men fawned over her father’s title; Crispin urged her to keep their relationship quiet, even when Esme wanted to tell the world.
Soon, Crispin had said.
Tired of waiting, Esme had concocted her plan to announce their relationship in a more indirect fashion. And mayhap Crispin had rumbled her, was displeased with her,was planning to leave her.
She pushed herself away from the rough granite of the barn and marched to the stable, pausing only to place Gerrault’s lantern on the cobbles.
“Crispin?”
His chestnut stallion swung his head towards her, but there was no sign of Crispin.
She stepped closer, placing her hands on the half wooden door and leaning over to look right and left. The horse was busy at his hay rack. The stable was clean but apparently empty. Then she made out a gleam of blue amidst the shadows at the back of the stall.
“Crispin?” she called again, louder this time.
The knight had been dozing, curled up against a soft pile of straw. He started at Esme’s voice, a familiar slow smile breaking across his handsome face when he recognized her.
“Dearest girl. I sent up prayers that you would come to find me.”
Momentarily confused Esme could only frown. She must not allow herself to be distracted by his chiseled cheekbones or beautiful brown eyes. “Why were you not at the ball?”
Crispin nudged the stallion aside and came to stand at the other side of the door. He smelled of hay and his finely stitchedblue tunic was creased. His large hands covered hers, making her realize how chilled she had become.
“Alas, dear one. Events have overtaken us.” He shrugged his muscular shoulders, his full lips curling into a regretful smile beneath his nut-brown locks of hair. “But I am pleased that at least we have this opportunity to say farewell.”
“Farewell? Why? Where are you going?” She took a breath, realizing how plaintive she sounded.
“I am summoned to a friend in need.” He lifted his hands and cupped them around her cheeks. His eyes widened with regret. “’Tis a summons I cannot ignore.”
“But you are sworn to my father.” Esme’s frown deepened. None of this made sense.
