Page 45 of An Engagement with the Enemy

“Would you prefer we table this debate until tomorrow? Umbrellas are a topic that deserve some focus, I should think, given their usefulness.” He addressed himself to Catherine, taking her attention away from her friend. “We could speak on one of your favorite subjects instead. Such as your search for uncommon words. Have you learned any new bits or bobs for your ever-expanding vocabulary?”

Slowly, as his sister expounded on a Latin-based verb she thought society ought to make greater use of, Jessica relaxed beneath his touch. Her pulse slowed. Her smile, when he glanced at her, had softened to something more in keeping with her usual disposition. He made to pull away, but her hand closed around his.

It took a great deal of willpower to not look at her, as she grasped his hand. Her skin was warm and soft, her long fingers gentle. And her hand fit so well in his that he wished, for one wistful moment, he didn’t have to relinquish it. Ever.

The innkeeper’s wife arrived with their tea, and Jessica withdrew from their shared touch. Only then did he dare look at her, to find her eyes glowing and her whole demeanor changed. She wasn’t quite relaxed, yet she appeared more like herself than he’d thought possible in such a short amount of time.

Catherine had decided to pour out for all of them when the door to the inn opened again and in came Tom Westcote and Mr. Holly, the two of them wasting no time making their way to the corner.

“Jess, where did you run off to?” Tom asked, a broad grin on his face. “James, I wish you had been with us. The blacksmith is going to give demonstrations tomorrow as to how medieval weaponry was made. He showed us a display of daggers that made me wish I’d lived alongside Robin Hood merely for the pleasure of keeping such things tucked up my sleeves.”

Mr. Holly had stepped away to fetch two more chairs to crowd around the small table, which meant James had to move his chair to Jessica’s side. He and his sister, with Jessica tucked between them, exchanged an uncertain glance. Then she gave a slight shake of her head.

They wouldn’t tell the men of Jessica’s state when they found her. Which meant James couldn’t chastise them for leaving her alone. Even though none of it made sense to him. Why would Jessica have been so distressed, in the village where she had grown up, looking as though she would be physically ill at any moment?

Though tempted to take her hand beneath the table again, James didn’t reach for her. But he kept one hand resting on his knee, available to her should she need more reassurance. His earlier irritation at her missing their appointment had completely vanished. Now, all he cared about was getting to the bottom of her distress. And doing all he could to ensure she didn’t have cause to slip into such a state again.

* * *

Jessica walked alongside James as the group made their way from the village back to Fairbrook Lodge. The sun shone brightly overhead, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions still swirling inside her. She stared straight ahead, unwilling to meet James’ gaze though she could feel it resting on her profile. Her hands tightened around the ribbons of her reticule.

Embarrassment flooded her cheeks with warmth at the memory of how he had found her, pale and trembling in the throes of panic amidst the bustling crowd. She had hoped to keep her struggles private, especially from James. Their friendship—if she could call it that—was tenuous; this could irreparably damage it. Or worse, give him something to tease her about that he didn’t understand. The mere idea of him using her weakness as a weapon made her heart feel bruised.

Yet even through the haze of her oncoming fit, she had recognized the calm reassurance in his voice, the gentle strength of his hand covering hers. He had been her anchor, along with Catherine, keeping her from drifting too far out to sea. Gratitude tempered her shame. Still, uncertainty gnawed at her.

Would James see her as broken and pathetic now that he glimpsed the weakness she battled?

Weariness seeped into her bones. The attacks always left her drained, both mentally and physically. She longed to return to her room and rest, to shut herself away from prying eyes. But she could not escape this walk back with the others, as much as she wished she could.

Drawing in a slow breath, Jessica raised her eyes to glance at James’s handsome profile. To her surprise, his expression held no pity or judgment, only patience and understanding.

Something like hope flickered in her chest.

“That was quite the adventure back in the village,” James commented lightly as they walked. “Although I confess, I’ve never been fond of wasps.”

Jessica looked at him in surprise. “Wasps?” It felt as though she’d entered into the middle of a conversation rather than the beginning of one. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Why, the buzz of activity and busyness we found. All those merchants and villagers darting about, it reminded me of an aggravated wasps’ nest.”

Jessica’s lips quirked. This sort of thing she could manage with him. “I would argue they were more like honeybees, each with their own purpose, working hard together.”

“Honeybees do sting when bothered though. I’ll take my chances with butterflies any day. Surely you agree?” James grinned.

Jessica felt an answering smile touch her face. “On the contrary. Bees are far more useful than butterflies. Where would we be without honey and beeswax?”

“You make fair points.” James inclined his head. “I shall have to reconsider my stance on bees. Although I maintain butterflies are less trouble.”

Jessica shook her head, a laugh bubbling up. The conversation was inane, yet she delighted in this return to their usual banter. James always matched and challenged her wit.

“I cannot think of many gentlemen who go about expressing an interest or a preference for butterflies,” she noted.

“I am unique among my sex, I suppose. Though if we asked every man of our acquaintance if he would rather have a wasp, a bee, or a butterfly trapped beneath his hat, I would lay money on the butterfly being the favorite choice.”

As she studied his amused expression, her laughter caught in her throat. When had his smile begun affecting her so? She noticed with startling clarity how his deep brown eyes gleamed with his usual mischief. Her heart stuttered.

That was why she hadn’t met him that morning. Despite the time that had passed since their last private interaction, she hadn’t forgotten a single sensation that nearness had stirred within her. When she’d foolishly threaded her fingers in his dark hair, coming close enough to breathe in the rich smell of soap on his skin, she’d wanted more from James, more than she had ever wanted from anyone.

She’d thought of little else since, no matter how she’d tried to distract herself.