Adam baulked. “That is a sorry tale indeed. For a man to fall to his death in his own stable yard.”
“The girth was not properly fastened.”
Adam whistled under his breath and picked up his goblet. “Such a simple thing.”
“We were all raised to check our horses’ girths before ever placing a foot in the stirrup.” Esme drained her goblet and held it out so that Adam could fill it again. “’Tis second nature to us. Even to Jonah.” She placed her hand daintily before her mouth as she hiccupped. “I watched him do so this morn.”
Mayhap I should go easy on the rich wine.
Adam was gazing at her and the last thing she wanted to be was muddled.
But the wine was in her blood and the warmth of the crackling fire had brought a flush to her cheeks. Esme found she could not sit quietly. There was naught for it but to keep talking.
“’Tis strange, the twists of fate that have such an impact on our lives.”
He still had not lifted his gaze from her face.
“’Tis indeed.”
“If your parents had not died, you would never have worked for Rory Baine. And you would not be here now.”
She thought, but did not say, that if Clara had not been killed, he would never have followed Rory Baine to Kielder Castle.
Instead, she glanced behind him, at the darkening sky still visible behind the open shutters.
Adam cleared his throat. “And if your uncle had checked his horse’s girth that day, I might be here talking to the niece of an earl. Not the daughter of an earl.”
His eyes burned with an intensity that sent another delicious twisting sensation deep into her core.
She placed her goblet down on the table, lest her trembling fingers betray the attraction she could no longer deny.
“Would that make such a difference?” she asked, staring right back into his eyes. Eyes that were flecked with fire.
Adam opened his mouth and closed it again. His voice had grown hoarse. “In truth, sweet Esme, I do not know.”
Sweet Esme.
Her heart began to beat so quickly, she feared he might hear it over the crackling of logs in the fire. “I do not think it would.”
Greatly daring, she placed her hand over his, emboldened to link her fingers with his when he did not pull away. A jolt of heat flowed all the way through her body.
“Not at all?” Adam’s breathing was becoming heavier, matching her own.
“It might make things simpler.” She looked down at their joined hands, because that was simpler than looking into his eyes. “I would have fewer pretty dresses. Fewer ribbons. Fewer bonnets. But I would no longer be troubled by false knaves seeking only my father’s fortune.”
She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Is that what you think of me?”
“Nay.” Her eyes widened. That was not what she meant at all. “I do not think you have a false bone in your body.”
“Good.” He placed his other hand atop hers. “Because my feelings for you, Esme, are entirely sincere.”
His words had stolen her breath. She could only look at him and hold on tightly to his hands, lest she become lost in the whirlwind of emotion rippling through her.
“Misguided, mayhap, but entirely sincere.” He gave her a little smile which tugged at her heartstrings.
Esme swallowed, knowing she must tread carefully even as her instincts screamed for her to dive in. “Why misguided?”
“Because you are the daughter of an earl.”
