“As I’ll ever be,” he replied drolly.
Adaira clucked to the horse. The mare began to walk, and Jack felt how stiff his body was. He was trying to relax, to let the horse’s gait melt through him, when Adaira clucked again. The horse lurched into a trot. Jack grimaced. Every thought was about to be knocked loose from his head.
“This is too fast,” he said, scrambling to grip the edges of the saddle.
“Hold on, Jack.”
“What?”
She clucked a third time, and the horse broke into a canter. Jack could feel the taunt of the ground as his balance teetered. He was about to tumble off and had no choice but to grasp her waist and sidle closer to her, so that no space remained between their bodies. He felt her palm cover his knuckles, warm with reassurance. She eased his hands forward to her navel, so that his arms embraced her, his fingers linked over the stays of her dress.
By the time they reached the castle courtyard, Jack was certain a few years had been shaved from his life and there were tangles in his hair that no comb would be able to tame. The mare came to a halt before the stable doors and nickered, announcing their arrival. Only then did Jack loosen his death grip on Adaira.
She dismounted first, a graceful slide to the cobblestones. She turned and held out her hand to him, wordlessly offering her assistance.
Jack scowled but accepted, surprised by how steady and strong she was, even as he was unbalanced. Awkwardly, he eased himself to the ground. He winced as he straightened.
“You’ll be sore tomorrow,” Adaira warned.
“Excellent,” he replied, thinking he couldn’t afford to let one more thing ail him.
He relinquished her hand and fell into stride beside her, now that he knew where she was taking him. They passed through the garden in companionable silence and ascended to the music chamber, a place Jack was coming to love. He brushed the dust from his clothes as Adaira called for tea.
“Are you feeling well, Jack?” she asked, looking him over as she walked to her desk.
He paused, wondering if she was at last noticing the effects of last night. “I’m fine,” he said. “Although I could wait another eleven years before riding a horse again.”
She smiled, sorting through a stack of books. “I don’t think I can allow that to happen.”
“No, heiress?”
She didn’t reply, nor did she need to. Jack saw the determined gleam in her eyes as she brought a book to him. It was only a matter of time before she would have him astride another horse.
“Here. The music is tucked within the leaves,” Adaira said, extending the slender volume toward him. “I know you might feel pressured to rush because of Torin, but if you need several days to study the music, then take them, Jack. I would prefer that we be prepared when we approach the spirits.”
“I think I can be ready in two days, at the soonest,” he replied, accepting the book. He admired its illuminated cover before opening it to find the loose parchment, hidden in the pages. He could not deny that a part of him was eager to learn this next ballad of Lorna’s. Anticipation shivered through him.
Jack had what he needed. He should go now. But he found that his feet were rooted to the floor, reluctant to leave so soon. His eyes lifted to meet Adaira’s steady gaze.
“I know you have many things to do,” she said. “But you should at least stay for tea. Let me feed you. Are you hungry?”
He hadn’t eaten that morning. He was famished, and he nodded. It was strange to think back to how this day had begun with Torin searching his room. It was strange to think how it was coming to an end, spending the last, golden hours of afternoon with Adaira in her study.
A servant brought in a tray of tea, scones, small mince pies, wedges of cheese, and oatcakes with cream and berries. Jack joined Adaira at the table, watching as she poured them each a cup of tea. He accepted it and filled his plate, his mind racing.
He was sharing a private meal with her. He could ask her anything, and the silence between them felt tender, as if Adaira would honestly answer whatever he felt brave enough to voice.
His thoughts brimmed with possibilities.
He wanted to ask her if she had any news of the Breccans and the trade she wanted to establish. He wanted to ask what she had been doing the past decade while he had been gone. If she had thought of him from time to time. He wanted to ask why she was unwed, because it continued to shock him that she walked alone when there was a horde of eligible partners in the east. Unless, that is, she desired to be alone. Which was fine, but he couldn’t help but wonder. He wanted to know if she was the one who desired him to stay a full year as bard, or if she was merely speaking for the good of the clan.