Page 24 of Feathers in the Wind
He considered that question. ‘But you at least have found where you belong,’ he said. ‘I am still looking.’
He remembered the property in Shropshire the London lawyer had sent him to look at. That had been an illusion, an impossible dream. There was nowhere in this benighted kingdom he would probably ever call his own.
She leaned her head back against his chest and closed her eyes. A twinge of panic caused him to put his heels to Florizel to spur the plodding gait of the horse. Surprised by this unwanted attention, Florizel jerked and Perdita’s eyes opened.
‘Something wrong?’
‘Nothing. Florizel must have seen a hedgehog,’ Adam said. ‘Not far now.’
As she drifted off again, he tightened his arms around her, telling himself that he didn’t want to risk her falling from the saddle, but knowing his motives to be something else entirely. She felt right in his arms and he wanted the moment never to end. But even as that traitorous thought crossed his mind, the gates of Preswood loomed ahead of them.
He shook her awake. ‘Home,’ he said.
‘Already?’ She almost sounded disappointed, and as if remembering her manners, asked, ‘Will you stay for a little while?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I have to be back at Warwick as soon as I can.’
‘When will I see you again?’
Did he detect a soft note of longing in her voice or was he imagining it, imposing a wish on her that was not in her heart?
‘I don’t know, Perdita,’ he said in a low, tight voice.
‘Adam Coulter,’ she whispered.
‘Perdita Gray?’
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘It’s a nice name.’
He pulled himself together. ‘That bang on the head has addled your senses, Mistress Gray.’
‘I haven’t thanked you,’ she said.
‘No thanks are required.’
‘Please stay.’
‘I can’t. God keep you safe.’
She closed her eyes and smiled. ‘You don’t believe in God.’
‘I told you, he doesn’t believe in me.’
Adam was spared from further conversation by the sight of Ludovic waiting at the front door.
‘Ah, Ludovic. Here is your mistress safe and well.’
He lowered Perdita into Ludovic’s waiting arms.
‘Mistress Clifford would see you, sir.’
He nodded and swung off the horse.
Joan lay in a large bed, propped up by bolsters. A smile lit her thin face at the sight of him and she held out her hand to him. He took it gently, mindful of the swollen and crooked joints that pained her.
‘Adam, thank the Lord, you found Perdita and returned her to us safe and well.’
‘She’s had a bad knock to the head but nothing a few days rest won’t put right.’
