The cook laughed at his expression. “Many a day I had Miss Mirrie in here, miserable as can be over her unrequited love for Lord Tristan. And look at her now! A lovelier bride I never did see.”
Adam had only the slightest grasp who she was talking about. He could see no comparison between himself and the ward of the Earl of Wolvesley.
“I am sworn to a Scottish laird,” he said, reminding himself as much as Agnes.
She gave him a knowing look. “And my master is the son of a Scottish laird. As I said, all things are possible in these hills. If you want it enough, that is.” She turned back to her turnips, seemingly losing interest in the conversation.
Adam helped himself to more bread and slipped through the back door, desperate suddenly for some fresh air. As soon as his feet hit the cobbles, he felt better. Birds sang in a sky that was as blue as midsummer, but the chill of the season kept his senses sharp. He walked through the stable yard, smelling the sweet hay and rubbing the ears of a little grey pony who whickered at his approach.
“Good morn, mister Adam,” called John from across the yard, carrying a pitchfork over his shoulder.
Adam nodded his head. “Good morn.”
“Lovely day for it,” the groom continued. “Whateveritis, of course.” The man laughed at his own joke as he disappeared into a stable, and Adam’s lips twitched upward.
He smiled, even as reality sunk its teeth into his arm and reminded him what the day must bring—a confrontation withCrispin. Mayhap a similar confrontation with Jonah, who surely could not live through this day without learning the truth of Esme’s relationship with Crispin?
Nor, perchance, the truth of his own relationship with Esme.
It would be a day of reckoning. But whichever way it turned out, Adam recognized that he was more at home at Ember Hall than he had ever been at Kielder Castle, despite all the friends and allies he had in the highlands.
And was that so strange? When he had grown up just a few hours distant?
As his eyes roved over the green hills, his mind raced at the possibility that the cook’s words were right.
Perchance all things were possible.
If he dared to dream.
Chapter Seventeen
Esme dressed withcare, knowing that this day was important. It was a time for standing firm and acting with purpose; lace, ribbons and bright colors would not strike the correct note.
Instead, she went again to Frida’s closet and brought out a simple gown of sage-green with small buttons and minimal decoration.Green for Wolvesley, she reminded herself as she tied the sash. She was Esme de Neville, and she would not be taken for a fool.
When Jennifer offered to dress her hair, Esme dismissed her with a smile. She could manage very well herself, with a comb and hairpins. Once ready, she spent little time gazing into the looking glass. Instead, she walked swiftly through the long gallery and descended to the great hall.
Her stomach was churning with so much anticipation that she could scarcely even glance at the foodstuffs laid out on the trestle table. Her gaze went to Adam, standing ramrod straight in front of the newly lit fire. He turned at her footsteps and smiled, softly.
“You look beautiful, Esme.”
That had not been her goal. She pulled a face as she joined him at the hearth. “I hoped to look serious.”
“You can be both.” He took her hands in his. “You know that you have my full support, whatever the next hours bring?”
“I do.” Standing by his side made her feel safe and content, despite the ordeal ahead of them. “I see you have chosen to keepthe stubble I so admired.” She tilted her head and smiled up at him.
“Alas, I have not had the opportunity to wash or change my clothes,” he said ruefully.
“Of course.” Her hand went to her mouth. “Crispin is still in your chamber.”
“Shall I bring him down?”
Adam was a man of action, but Esme found she had not yet gathered her courage. She shivered and wrapped her arms about herself, glancing toward the solar door. “Has Jonah not risen?”
“I have not seen him.” Adam regarded her carefully. Even in his crumpled tunic, he exuded an air of authority. “Shall I knock on his door?”
“Nay.” Her answer came too quickly, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. “In truth, Adam, I would prefer that my brother did not bear witness to my shame.”
