When she finally looked up to tear off a hunk of bread, there were tears in her eyes.
Who would have thought her sullen brother could capture such sentiments and express them so eloquently?
Esme shuffled the parchment in her hands, feeling oddly moved. There was no doubt that Jonah wrote of love. Deep love. ’Twas naught like the giddy rush of attraction she had once felt for Crispin.
Nonetheless, his words stirred something within her; connecting her to an emotion she had not dared yet give voice to. Not even quietly, to herself. But now, in the quiet of the solar, her pulse quickened, and a sort of wild fancy gripped her, urging her to look deep within her heart and confess to the truth she found there.
The truth about a man with piercing green eyes and threads of silver in his dark hair.
But as she trembled on the brink, hoofbeats sounded on the cobbles outside the window and she realized she must leave the solar before Jonah found her lurking there.
Tightening her lips, she swiftly gathered up the pieces of parchment and placed them neatly on the desk, hoping she had correctly recalled the order of them. But one glance out of the window told her there was no need for haste. The returning horseman was not Jonah, but merely one of the guards.
Relief made her knees go weak and she sagged against the wooden desk, feeling her heart pound beneath her bodice. Then she frowned and looked again out of the window, observing the long shadows which stretched the length of the courtyard. The hour had grown late, and Jonah had not yet returned.
Her relief was immediately replaced by the first flicker of concern.
Surely, her brother did not intend to be absent for so long? He had given no instruction of his intent to stay away; Agnes did not even know he had gone.
“Oh, Jonah.” Esme put a hand to her heart, recalling her harsh words to him that morn.
Had he ridden off in a huff? Determined to demonstrate the meaning and purpose that she had derided him for lacking?
Breathing deeply to quell her nerves, Esme crossed to the window so she might have a better view of the path from the gates.
It was empty.
What should I do?
Panic gripped her by the shoulders. Jonah might have fallen. Even now, he might be laying injured in a ditch. And it would all be her fault. Not only because of how she had spoken to him—words said in temper that had wounded one with such a sensitive soul—but also because she washis sister. She had watched him ride away. She should have noticed, before now, that he had not returned. Frida was gone and there was no one else to watch over him.
She wrung her hands and tried to steady her thoughts. As tempting as it was to rush out to the stables, demand a horse and set off in pursuit, she knew this would not be sensible. For one, she had no idea which direction Jonah had ridden in. For another, darkness would soon be upon them and the drop from the cliff tops was severe.
As this thought crystallized in her mind, Esme was obliged to grip the desk to steady herself in a chamber that swung about her.
And then the answer came to her, like a loud horn blast carrying through the fog.
Adam is here.
He would help her.
She had hoped to avoid him, after yesterday’s awkwardness. But these concerns now seemed trivial. She swept from the solar, pleased to encounter Jennifer building up the fire in the great hall.
“Where is Adam?” she asked without preamble.
The housemaid looked surprised. “I have not seen him this day, milady.”
Esme sought to contain her frustration. “Not at all?”
“Agnes said he was keeping to his chamber.” Jennifer’s hazel eyes flickered to the logs on the fire, then back to Esme.
“And where is that?”
“His chamber?” The housemaid blanched.
Esme’s folded her hands together to stop her flinging them about. “Aye, his chamber. Where can I find it.”
“’Tis on the very top floor. I dinna ken which one though, milady.”
