“No matter, I shall find it.” Esme spun around and made for the staircase, but Jennifer called her back.
“You’ll need to take the servant’s stairs.” She pointed to a low wooden door in the far corner of the room.
Esme hid her discomposure. She had never even noticed this second door. “Thank you, Jennifer.”
The servant’s stairs were small and narrow; in her haste, Esme feared she might trip. She picked up her skirts and ascended as quickly as she could, pleased to emerge onto roughly plastered landing. She took a moment to catch her breath, relieved that high, narrow windows had been carved into the outer wall as she had not thought to bring a torch. But the fading light meant it was hard to make out very much.
Esme looked left and right. To one side of her was a dead end. One the other, a narrow passage led to two wooden doors; one of which stood ajar.
Downstairs in the solar, Esme had felt as if she were intruding in her brother’s private space, but that was naught to the trepidation she knew now. She had never been up here. She did not belong here. But surely, she could not be accused of trespassing in her sister’s home? ’Twas only that she felt out of place. And back home at Wolvesley; Esme had never once experienced such an emotion.
Swallowing her anxieties, she held her head high and marched toward the pair of doors. By inclining her head at an awkward angle, she could spy a sort of store through the gap of the open door.
Adam’s chamber must be opposite.
Esme took a deep breath and knocked.
Chapter Eleven
To find Esmestanding on the other side of his chamber door gave him a jolt of pleasure. At first, he blinked at the shadows beyond his chamber, thinking her mayhap a specter conjured by his imagination. But nay. She was flesh and blood; her chest rising and falling after her ascent of the stairs. He was pleased to see her; that was the simple, honest truth of it.
All day, he had assumed she was avoiding him—and for reasons that were good and understandable—but here she was! Her golden hair was loose across her shoulders, and she wore a simple gown as blue as her eyes. Just the sight of her eased the band of tension across his ribs as if her brightness might yet banish the darkness inside him.
Then he saw the panic stamped across her heart-shaped face, and his chest grew tight once again.
“Esme, what ails thee?”
Acting entirely on impulse, he put a hand on her arm, squeezing with what he hoped was gentle reassurance.
But the lady’s eyes filled with tears. “Forgive me.” She sniffed. “I shall be myself again in a moment.”
Adam withdrew his hand, unsure of the etiquette of this situation. Good manners dictated that he should invite her inside his chamber. Propriety, surely, did not! But they could not converse on this narrow landing, where the floorboards squeaked whenever anyone moved and the dim light made it hard to see much of anything.
Esme squared her shoulders. “I have come to ask for your help.”
“I will do whatever I can,” he promised, fighting a strong urge to put his arm around her.
“’Tis my brother Jonah. He rode off this morn and has not returned.”
Adam quickly considered this. Jonah was a grown man, and it was not yet fully dark. But Esme’s distress was palpable.
Rather than debate the matter here and now, he pulled his door closed behind him. “Let us go downstairs, where we can talk more easily.”
He should have fetched a candle from his chamber, he reflected, as they made halting progress down the narrow stairs. The situation put him in mind of the time they climbed the wooden steps to the hayloft, and he had longed to kiss her. Then of the time when they became entangled in the narrow passage beyond the kitchen, and he so nearlyhadkissed her. In contrast to the shadows of the stairwell, the great hall positively blazed with light. The fire was lit, as were a dozen wall sconces, and flickering candlelight cast a golden glow over the wooden paneling. The elegant room exuded an air of coziness, but Esme shivered at the bottom of the stairs. He took her arm and drew her closer to the hearth.
“Sit down,” he instructed. “Shall I ring for some wine? To bring some color back to your cheeks,” he added quickly.
Esme shook her head, although she obediently lowered herself onto a cushioned chair. “Nay. I cannot bide here long. We must find Jonah.” She pressed her hands together, either in supplication or restraint, he could not tell.
Adam forced himself to sit down in the adjacent chair, even though his instincts—as a man—were telling him to put all available distance between himself and this lovely young woman who had seemingly gained control of his heart in thelast sennight. All his resolutions of yesterday had dissolved like morning mist, the very moment she asked him for help.
This was dangerous territory, the likes of which he had never known, where sense and reason did not prevail. He should protect himself from it.
But his instincts as a warrior and a protectorof othersruled overall else.For now.
“Tell me what you can.”
Esme pressed her pink lips together. “I watched him ride away. He insisted on mounting the horse himself, even though it pained him to do so. He was in a foul temper.” She hung her head.
