“But you must long to return to Wolvesley? With me? As man and wife?” Crispin’s questions fell like drumbeats into the echoing hall. He put his hands on his hips and waited for her answer.
She could only answer with the truth.
“I do not. I’m sorry, Crispin. Much has changed for me.”
He shook his head, almost disbelieving. “You would go back on your word? Break your promise to me?” He came to stand closer, and she saw a pulse flickering in his neck.
Esme took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm.Aye, she had given her word. But under circumstances that were extreme.
She rubbed at her temples, feeling her headache beginning to return. She had no wish to refer tothatnight. She would rather never talk of it again for the rest of her life.
“You accepted my ring, Esme.” Crispin’s voice was accusing.
“A ring made of straw,” she bit back.
“It does not matter what the ring is made of.” He was shouting now, his cheeks turning puce with rage. “In the eyes of the law, we became betrothed when you accepted that ring. In the eyes of the church, we became man and wife the moment you laid with me.”
She flinched toward the window, wounded by the fury in his eyes as much as his words.
Words that she could not believe to be true.
He saw her doubt and smiled, cruelly. “’Tis true, Esme. When we return to Wolvesley, you can ask your father as much. He is still the judiciary, is he not?”
She could only nod as dread pooled inside her.
This cannot not be.
“The Earl of Wolvesley has always insisted his children live within the law.” Crispin seemed to be enjoying himself.
Esme thought of her father, of his constant love and kindness to his family. And his intolerance of lawbreakers.
She hung her head, knowing she could not bear to disappoint him.
But memories of Wolvesley gave her a shred of hope, which she clung to like a raft in a storm.
“You know as well as I do, Crispin, that ’tis not fitting for an earl’s daughter to marry in secret. We cannot return to Wolvesley as man and wife.” She smoothed her skirts, as if nothing else in the world troubled her heart.
“I have no argument with that.” He paced toward her, grasped her by the wrists and pulled her, inelegantly, upright.
Esme gasped with shock but would not give him the satisfaction of seeing the depths of her alarm. She regarded him steadily, this man she had once thought she loved.
“We will return to Wolvesley as a betrothed couple and there we will have a wedding grand enough to befit an earl’s daughter.” His sour breath hit her face.
Before she could frame a response, the servant’s door banged open and out strode Adam, in a rage greater than she had ever witnessed.
“What is the meaning of this?” he thundered, his gaze taking in Crispin’s hold of her wrists. “Step away from the lady, sir, ifyou wish to ever walk again.” One hand went to the hilt of his sword.
Esme could have swooned with relief, but Crispin did not move. “Your concern does you credit, my good man. However, it is ill-placed. I am Lady Esme’s betrothed, recently returned and ready to escort her home.”
Skilled warrior though he was, Adam could not disguise his surprise. His eyes flew to Esme.
“Is this true?”
Nay, she wanted to shout.
But how could she do that? If, in the eyes of the law and the church, it was so?
“Tell him, Esme.” Crispin’s voice had the ring of steel.
