Page 8 of The Nature of a Lady
There was nowhere to hide, unless she wanted to dive into thesurf and take shelter behind a boat. Her only option was to pivot on her heel, which she promptly did. Running would only gain his attention—so she would just act like any other half-lost tourist and meander about for a few minutes, until he was on his way. He’d never know her from behind, not with her hair combed flat, pinned neatly, and covered with the hat. Not with this prim gown of dark grey encasing every inch of her. Not with—
“Benna?” A laugh and pounding feet over the rocks and sand. “Mabena Moon!”
Drat and blast. She came to a halt—she’d never outrun him, not in a thousand tides—her hands curling into fists at her sides. For one moment, she allowed herself the indulgence of eyes squeezed shut. But then she dragged in a breath and spun again to face him.
Only Casek, at least. Not Cador. Small blessings. Though they looked enough alike that she couldn’t make herself smile over the difference. “Caz.”
Her greeting, hard as the granite stones of Giant’s Castle, did nothing to wipe the grin from his lips. Ollie had always hated that grin—a smirk, he called it, and he seemed to think Casek only ever donned it to taunt him.
He may have a point, in general. But as Caz strode her way, gaze sweeping over her as if she were half-apparition, she knew the look had nothing to do with Oliver Tremayne. “Mabena Moon,” he said again, this time with disbelief in his tone. “Didn’t expect ever to see you back here.”
She lifted her chin. And fought the sudden urge to pull off her hat and toss it to the waves so she could feel the bolstering strength of the wind in her hair. But she’d just have to settle for righteous anger. “And why, I wonder, isthat?”
Casek halted a few feet away, hands raised in truce but that grin still playing at the corners of his mouth. “You can’t blame me for what Cador’s done, can you?”
She folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t see why not. You Wearnes were always the all-for-one sort.”
He snorted a laugh. “As if your own family’s any different?”
A lift of her brows was the only answer she’d give him to that one.
He didn’t seem to require any other. Just chuckled, and it sounded likehisalways had, a deep rumble of surf on stones. “What are you doing home, Benna?”
She debated half a dozen answers before deciding on the one that would seem to have the least to do with her. With a hand waved in the general direction of the cottages, she said, “My employer’s holidaying here. She’s given me the day to see my family, so I thought I’d find someone to take me to Tresco.”
That steady look of his didn’t shift any, though his eyes danced like the light on the waves. “If you think for a moment I’ll believe that you just let your ...employerdecide to come here without exerting any opinion on the matter, then you don’t give me near enough credit. Mabena Moon lets no one else decide something for her.”
She hoped her blink, long and slow, was as disdainful as she meant it to be. “I’m a lady’s maid, Casek Wearne. I’ve no right to exert my opinion.”
Why did anger dance through the light in his eyes? He shook his head. “Why’ve you gone and done such a fool thing, anyway? You’re better than that.”
“Am I?” Perhaps her words came out with every ounce of bitterness she felt—and she let them. “Your brother would disagree.”
“My brother’s a blamed idiot, as everyone well knows.” Casek’s brows could hike upward with every bit as much disdain as hers could. “But as I’mnot, I won’t for a moment believe youremployerdragged you here against your will. You’d sooner resign whatever position you found than return. ‘Not until the sun falls into the sea’—isn’t that what you said when you stormed off?”
“Might have been.” And she’d meant it at the time. Still would have, if not for that last letter from Beth—and then the cessation of all letters from Beth. Some things were more important than her own mangled heart. “But as I certainly didn’t come home to discuss my business with a Wearne, I’ll just find another way over to Tresco, thank you, and—”
His bark of laughter interrupted her, and he waved a hand at the quay, filled with boats anchored in the shallow water but currently empty of people. “Take a look around, Benna. Unless you want to wait for someone else’s leisure, I’m your option just now. So...” He took a diagonal step back and held out a hand with a flourish toward his sloop. “Allow me, my ’ansum.”
She looked first to the paths leading here, willing some other acquaintance to come whistling her way. None. Which was just her luck, wasn’t it? Her fist squeezed tight again until her nails dug into her palms, and she sucked in a long breath. She’d like to declare that she’d sooner swim home than ride with him, or “borrow” one of the other crafts—something she’d done a time or two over the years. But this blighted dress was too restrictive to allow for rowing or sailing.
And this was for Beth. So, she hissed the breath out again and jerked forward, lifting her skirt out of the way and taking some small pleasure in the way her stomping steps sprayed a bit of wet sand onto his trousers. “Fine. But because you’re the only option.”
His chuckle drove home what every Scillonian already knew—that Casek Wearne never lacked for confidence, and no one else’s opinion of him ever made a dent in it.
She gathered her skirt a little higher to prepare to step into his boat, squealing a protest when hands landed on her waist and she was hoisted into the air. Though her feet were on the bottom of the boat a moment later and he let her go again, it didn’t keep her from spinning round and smacking him in the arm. “Brute.”
He was grinning. Of course. “Just helping a lady, that’s all. You look so prim and rigid in that getup, I thought you’d need the assistance.”
“You’re lucky I’m lady enough to refrain from punching you square in the nose.” It still had a bump on it from when Ollie had done so when they were nineteen, and she wouldn’t mind adding another. Though it wouldn’t be half so satisfying as delivering the blow to his brother.
“I’m utterly terrified.” He climbed in after her, pulling the anchorup as he sat. His hands then found the rigging, and within a minute he’d caught the wind in the newly unfurled sails, and they were off.
Just to poke at him, once they were in open waters, she asked, “Who won the race this morning?”
His scowl was all the answer she needed, which brought laughter to her lips.
He settled into his seat with his hand on the tiller. “We’ll take them next week. Especially if Enyon keeps losing sleep because of ghost stories.”
