Page 21 of To Treasure an Heiress
“Relax, Ainsley. I haven’t proposed.” Though last night he’d added another stupid way of doing so to his growing list of them.So, Beth, you said you wanted to believe in love at first sight? Well, you’ve made a believer out of me. It’s only fair, then, that you marry me.
He swiped his hat off the table and left the room before his valet could dispense any more advice, spoken or silent. Marched directly to the front door, where he was to meet Beth. And frowned out the window.
The fog was thick as wool. It reallywaspure madness to try to sail in it.
“Ready?” But there his lady was, a smile on her face and flinty determination in her eyes. She was dressed more like Libby than her own usual choices, a cardigan of green topping her blouse and doing lovely things to her face.
“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “If you are. Though if you’d rather wait for the fog to clear...”
Beth waved that away and pulled open the door. Fog billowed in around her. “If we wait, Oliver will talk me out of going.”
Sheridan snorted a laugh. “I don’t believe you.”
She smiled, then stepped out into the cloud. “All right, he’lltry. And having to be stubborn before breakfast always ruins my day.”
“Noted.”
He followed her voice into the mist and softly closed the door behind him. He could make out Beth easily enough, being only a step away, and maybe, possibly, the trellis beyond her. But past the gate, the world ceased to exist.
Blast it, Ainsley was right. Utter madness.
Beth hooked her arm through his. So now there was nothing he could do but go along.
She led him through what he presumed was the village, though it was more hulking, shifting shadows than buildings. The streets were still quiet, whereas he’d normally have expected a bit of activity by now. But the fishermen would already be out, he supposed, and the land-run businesses not yet open.
And he didn’t exactly mind the sensation of being utterly alone with her, their own little island in a world of clouds. It seemed wrong to shatter the stillness with words, so he held his silence as they followed the road down toward the quay. He knew that Bethhad her own sloop, smaller than theAdelle, in which her brother had ferried them all about. He’d yet to see it, and he’d certainly never been invited aboard.
The fog was no less wooly at the shore, but the sounds of the sea broke the silence. Which must mean he could do the same. “Have you always sailed?”
She grinned up at him, her fair curls darkened to gold by the mist. “Always. For a Scillonian, sailing is like riding a horse on the mainland. We all learn it, along with swimming. It’s our only way of connecting the islands, and none of them are large enough to be entirely self-sufficient. The water is our road.”
Like he’d said yesterday morning. Look at them, in agreement about so much. How could they be anything but soul mates? “So, your sloop is like a pony? Every child gets one when they turn five?”
She laughed outright at that—a victory he knew he’d won by taking her side yesterday afternoon. It wasn’t the fairy bells of her grandmother’s laugh, but full-throated and warm. “I’d been manning theAdellesince I was big enough to hang onto a line, but I was thirteen when I got my own. I think most people thought my parents were spoiling me by giving it to me, but Uncle Jeremiah is a shipwright. He crafted matching sloops for Mabena and me. HerMermaid. And myNaiad. She’s the loveliest sloop ever to sail round the archipelago.”
He had to wonder if the names would earn the same silence from Ainsley that his joke about sea gods had. “I can’t wait to meet her. How will I know if she likes me?”
Another laugh punctuated her tug toward a particular mast. “If she doesn’t toss you into the drink.”
“Ah. Just like all the girls, then.” He waited for the rest of the boat to take shape through the fog, hoping it was as lovely as she claimed, so that he could agree with her some more.
He needn’t have worried. Even draped with mist, Jeremiah Moon’s expert craftsmanship was on display. Elegant lines, streamline shape, smooth wood polished to a shine. “Does your uncleexport any of his masterpieces? I have a lake.” And a boathouse already full of things to put on it. But none so lovely as this.
She quirked a brow at him. “For the right price.”
“So I assumed. Craftsmen rarely part with their work for thewrongprice.” And he rarely tried to haggle them down. He knew full well he was better off than most people—his ancestors had been a boring lot, making wise investments, never gambling it all away, not even purchasing expensive houses in out-of-the-way towns for keeping mistresses in. He couldn’t squander his inheritance even if he tried.
A few minutes later, they were aboard theNaiad, Beth had unfurled the sails, and they were tacking into the breeze. And the fog. “Not that I doubt you. But let’s call me curious. You’ve no instruments. No vision to speak of just now. How do you know where you’re going?”
She pulled a watch from her pocket and held it up like it was some sort of answer. “With this and my lead line, I can tell how fast I’m going. I’ve a compass in my other pocket to give me my direction. What more could I need?”
He could think of a few dozen things. A hot cup of tea currently topping the list. Wasn’t this part of the country supposed to be warmer than the rest? It certainly didn’t feel like it just now, with the fog biting at his fingers. He folded them under his opposite arms. “Are you going to tell me yet where we’re going?”
She’d refused last night, though he liked to think it was to spite the others and not because she didn’t trust him. Wishful thinking, but what was life without a few wishes?
She considered it for a long moment first. “Gugh.”
“Gugh. Rhymes with Hugh and holding hands with St. Agnes.”
