Page 15 of Moonstone Landing
“No, Hen. As beautiful as it is and as much as I did love Moonstone Cottage, I do not have an unbreakable attachment to it or the village. Come, let’s walk along the beach. Keep to the water’s edge.”
“All right.” She liked walking beside him. There was something lovely about being beside this man, her toes sinking into the wet sand and the sun shining down upon her head. Kittiwakes and kestrels hovered over the water in search of fish, then flew back to their nests amid the carved-out rocks upon the cliff face.
The breeze was stronger down here and blew through her hair. She had left it loose but tied back at her nape by a simple ribbon—a green ribbon to match the green flowers embroidered on her gown of white muslin.
“You look pretty, Hen.”
She blushed. “Thank you.”
He smiled rakishly. “You are not used to gentlemen giving you compliments.”
“I spent two seasons as a wallflower.”
He stopped and looked at her askance, ignoring the breeze as it blew through his dark hair, and the water as it rushed to lap the soles of his boots. “Impossible. You are a diamond of the first water.”
She shook her head. “I looked like a frightened doe most of the time. My gowns were out of style, and I did not dance well at all. Nor did I much like the gentlemen who approached me. Oh, there were plenty of them at first. But they quickly disappeared when they learned I was not an heiress. It suited me just fine.”
His expression darkened. “Was there not a decent man among them?”
She pursed her lips. “Perhaps, but I was not confident enough of myself to tell the decent ones from the scoundrels, so I chased them all away.”
“Would you have chased me away, I wonder?”
“Yes, I fear so. You would have frightened me most of all. Someone as handsome as you? I would have been a stammering ninny.”
“I like to think I would have seen beyond your shyness and tried to put you at ease.”
She continued to walk along the beach, her gown now only hiked to her calves. She supposed it was still scandalous, but she doubted Brioc would complain. He seemed the sort to appreciate a woman’s legs. “I don’t know. There were so many pretty young ladies having their come-outs at the same time as I was. I don’t think you would have bothered with me.”
“I suppose it is a moot point now. I am dead, and we shall never know what might have happened between us had we ever met.”
She picked up a shell and cleaned it off in the water. “This one’s quite pretty. Look how it shines inside. Like a pink pearl. Or an opal, perhaps.”
“That iridescent shine is called nacre.”
“Well, look at that. It is beautiful. Thank you for teaching me something new.”
“You are most welcome. Are you hungry, Hen? We ought to head back to the blanket now.”
“All right.” She wiggled her toes in the warm sand a moment before heading back the way they came. “The waves are lapping the shore with more force now.”
“The tide is coming in. Don’t worry, it will not reach your blanket. I would have warned you if you’d spread it too close to the water. But step back a little as we walk, or those rogue waves will knock you over.”
“I think I would have liked you had I met you earlier, Brioc. Of course, I would have been too shy ever to approach you. I would have swooned if you had ever approached me.”
He grinned. “I would have swooned over you, too.”
She shook her head and laughed heartily. “I doubt it. Our meeting would never have come to anything. As I said, I was a tongue-tied nitwit and just wanted to lose myself against the wall most of the time.”
They returned to the blanket, and she took out the bread and cheese Mrs. Hawke had packed for her. She had also packed a bottle of lemonade and put a cork in it as one would for wine. She struggled to pull it out. “Ugh, it’s tightly stuck in there.”
“Sorry, Hen. I would help if I could.”
“I know.” She gave a final pull, smacking her fisted hand against her chest as she drew it out. “Ow,” she cried, dropping the bottle to clasp her heart.
Of all the stupid things to do.
Brioc was on his knees beside her in a trice. “Hen? What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?”
