“Which is why I must slip away unseen at first light.” Crispin put his head to one side. “There is much I cannot tell you, Esme. You must trust me when I say that I have not come to this decision lightly.”
She grasped his hand, pressing it harder against her cheek and leaning into the heat of his palm. “I trust you,” she promised. “But when will I see you again?”
“I cannot say.”
“My father may not welcome you back to Wolvesley.” As the words left her lips, Esme realized their importance. “’Twould be better if you spoke to him first and explained the situation. He’s the King’s man. You can trust him with anything.”
Crispin stilled and his face grew unreadable. “I know ’tis hard for you to accept. But there are some things that go beyond your father’s jurisdiction.” A note of mockery had crept into his voice.
In the heat of the moment, she had forgotten to tread carefully. Crispin was a proud man, but his pride was easily wounded—as Esme had long since learned.
“Hard for me to accept that you are a skilled, trusted knight of much renown?” She took one of his hands and placed itover her heart. “Nay, never.” She shook her head so vigorously her hair threatened to break free of its pins. “Though ’tis nigh impossible for me to accept that you are set to leave Wolvesley with no plan to return.” Her vision blurred with genuine tears, and she lowered her head so he would not catch them shining in the torchlight.
“My dear, sweet girl.” He wiped the corner of her eyes with his thumbs. “Look at me.”
Hesitantly, she met his gaze.
“My departure wounds me just as deeply as it wounds you.”
She sniffed in a most unladylike fashion. “Then do not go.”
To Esme, it was all very simple.
Crispin took a step away from her and dragged a hand through his tousled curls. “This is unanticipated.”
Esme let a beat pass. “How so?”
Crispin appeared to be wrestling with something. “Truly, Esme. I did not know you cared so deeply.”
“Of course I care,” she protested.
His fists clenched. “And yet you spurn me at every turn.”
Was that the gleam ofhistears which she could now see?
“I do not spurn you,” she protested, but he had already turned away.
“’Tis mayhap for the best. I will say goodbye now, Esme. In time, I hope I am able to return to Wolvesley, but you will no doubt be married by then.”
“Nay.” She wrestled with the door, bolting it behind her and crossing the straw-strewn floor to stand behind him. Her hands flew around his broad shoulders; her face pressed against his back. “I shall marry none but you, Crispin. Do you not know that?”
His body fairly bristled with tension. “You would turn down all the titled and wealthy lords your father has lined up for you?”His voice was choked as he gestured angrily in the direction of the keep.
“I already have,” she replied steadily.
Crispin’s destrier clopped over to investigate this disruption, exhaling warm breath over her face and neck before losing interest and returning to his hay.
Crispin still resolutely faced the back wall of the barn.
Esme’s thoughts were tinged with panic. What could she do to show him how much she cared?
Her hands slipped from his shoulders, down towards his tapered waist. As if they had minds of their own, they glanced over his taut belly and up towards his muscular chest. She felt a new kind of tension enter his body; one which matched with the awareness building deep inside her.
And just like that, she knew what she must do.
She pressed herself against his back, relishing the sparse solidity of him before she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the warm skin where his neck met his shoulders.
He turned around and linked his fingers with hers.
