Page 101 of The Sisters of Sea View
She grinned. “Not yet.”
They soon approached lofty High Peak. Sarah marveled at the landmark, which she had only seen from a distance before.
After they passed the second peak, the coastland changed, now fluted with inlets, small waterfalls, and beaches.
At one point, Mr. Henshall pointed out a few spiky plants poking out from a rocky cliff wall. “Look there. Thistle. Seems it grows here as well.”
Sarah squinted to better see the feathery purple flowers, each set atop a spiny ball.
She realized she’d seen them before, along the verges of roads and fields. The local people called them dashels. Sarah had never given the plant much thought, for as Mr. Elton had said, they looked rather like weeds. Now she regarded the purple crowns with new appreciation. What had he said they symbolized? Courage and loyalty? She glanced at the Scotsman. Yes, it seemed appropriate.
Eventually Mr. Puddicombe relieved Callum at the tiller.
“Where are we?” Sarah called to their pilot over the wind.
“Near Otterton.”
They rounded a massive rock outcropping, and a hidden bay came into view. Mr. Puddicombe nodded toward it. “That’s Ladram Bay.”
In the bay stood large sea-stack formations, like huge statues in a fountain, one as large as a ship.
“Beautiful...” Sarah breathed.
They beached the boat in the scenic spot, and Mr. Henshall took the picnic basket from her and helped her alight. After exploring a bit, they spread a cloth on a large, flat rock, as the sandy beach was studded with pebbles.
Mr. Puddicombe accepted a sandwich with a grunt of thanks and wolfed it down before returning to the beach with a pole to fish from shore.
Sarah and Mr. Henshall sat together, talking, eating, and soaking in the gorgeous scenery.
She said, “This was an excellent idea. Thank you for inviting me.”
“My pleasure. I hope it shan’t be the last time.”
She regarded him curiously. “The last time I relax and enjoy myself?”
He held her gaze. “The last time you spend with me.”
For a few sun-streaked seconds, Sarah allowed herself to daydream about what it would be like to be courted by Callum Henshall. The two continued to look into one another’s eyes, until the moment grew heavy and awkward.
He cleared his throat and said, “I’ve been thinking of what ye said about the loss of your betrothed—the great love of your life. And I rather envy ye. You possess the romantic ideal, a courtship never sullied by reality or disappointment.”
She frowned at him, illogically irritated. “You don’t know that my marriage to Peter would have been a disappointment. He was a good, kind man.”
“You’re right, of course. I suppose I was recalling my own marriage.” He slanted her a tentative glance. “I know his loss was painful, but I would think you’d be eager to try again, since your first experience with love was so positive.”
“And you are not? Eager to try again, that is?”
He shook his head. “A few acquaintances have shown interest since Katrin’s death, and I have kept my distance. I had thought Katrin was a certain person, that she and I would be happy together. I was wrong. In any case, I told myself not to be hasty informing another attachment. To be cautious.” Another sidelong glance. “Although at present, I am finding that rather difficult.”
His gaze lingered on her face. “To me, ye seem all that is admirable. A kind, bonnie lass who cares deeply for her family. I wonder if my impression is too good to be true?”
His flattering words warmed her, but also disconcerted her. It seemed far too soon to be having such a conversation.
“I could ask the same of you,” she said. “Are you truly as you seem?”
He harrumphed. “If I seem to be a frustrated father and disenchanted widower, then aye, right ye are.”
She shook her head. “That is not how I see you. Perhaps you are a poor judge of character—especially your own. I see a responsible man who does his best to make things right. I see a father who is patient and gentle with a stepdaughter who is often sour and snappish.”
