“I would not have you thinking that I am some old, seasoned warrior looking only for a conquest to brag about.” He was trying—and so far, failing—to articulate the complexity of his feelings. “When I first met you, you were Lady Esme de Neville. Now you are a bright, guiding light in the darkness of the world.”
“I am not anything so grand.” She half shook her head.
“You are to me.” He had to make her understand. “You are beautiful and pure in a way I have never known.”
“What if I am not so pure?” she choked.
“But you are.” He smiled down at her. “Kind and honest and pure. There is naught you would not do for another. Naught you would shy away from.”
Once again, she pressed her face into his chest so he could not see her expression. ’Twas an invitation to further unburden himself.
“I have become hard and unknowable in these last years. I erected barriers in my heart and hid behind them. But you have begun to break them down.”
Esme pulled away and he saw, with distress, that she was trembling.
“I am not the person you think I am.”
“I think you are wonderful,” he answered simply.
She put the back of her hand to her mouth, her eyes fixed on the floor. Adam realized, belatedly, that his words had pushed her away.
But how?
He had never been gifted with words. What had he said that was so amiss?
“Wonderful and good,” he added, tentative now.
“Nay.” She shook her head. “I cannot do this.”
Of course she could not.
Adam saw the scene unfold in slow motion, as if he was hovering somewhere in the rafters. The beautiful, golden-haired lady. The clumsy oaf who had attempted to romance her.
How foolish he had become. In just one night.
“Forgive me.” He backed away and put a hand to his head, immediately seeking to put distance between them.
“There is naught to forgive.” Her words sounded sincere, but Esme looked everywhere except at him. “Truly, Adam. The fault is with me.”
“I will leave you.” His mind still whirred, but his body knew what to do. He gave a short bow, turned abruptly and walked toward the servant’s door in the corner; his long legs striding across the polished floor, even as his heart yearned to stay where he was.
Where he had been, just moments ago.
Happy.Or at least, beginning to believe in the possibility of happiness.
You are a fool, Adam Hawker, he told himself grimly as he clambered up the steep, narrow stairs. He could scarcely see where he was going but could orient himself well enough with one hand brushing against the cold stone. He reached the top floor and flung open the door to his chamber so violently that it banged loudly against the wall.
“A damned fool,” he said out loud.
Chapter Fourteen
Esme felt asif her heart were being wrung from her body as she watched Adam walking away from her. He wrestled with the little wooden door and disappeared from view, without so much as a backward glance.
And she could not blame him.
She had treated him despicably. All because she could not bear to tell him the truth and see the shock of sudden disappointment darkening the glow of affection in his gaze.
She pressed her fingers to her eyes, hoping to stem the tears that threatened to spill.
