She was sitting on a narrow wooden seat in a narrow wooden boat, surrounded on all sides by water so close that she could trail her hand in it if she wished-she did not wish. She was very aware that only the thin planking of the boat beneath her feet separated her from unknown depths.
She was so ashamed and so contemptuous of her own terror that she lifted her chin at an arrogant angle as if to say that all this was a crashing bore and clasped her hands loosely in her lap rather than cling for dear life to the sides.
'Nervous?' Joshua asked with a grin.
He was hatless. He was rowing through water that undulated in the breeze and was choppy enough to show the occasional crest of white foam on the waves. He was, of course, looking quite irresistibly gorgeous. The wind was ruffling his blond hair and making it gleam. She tried to concentrate on his good looks, or, better yet, on his wicked, teasing grin. He knew she was terrified.
'Ha! Of a little water?' She tried not to notice that the island looked farther away now than when they had started or that the mainland seemed miles away.
'I was not talking about the water.' He depressed one eyelid in that slow wink of his.
'Nonsense!' She pressed her lips together and he laughed.
He had explained at the luncheon table that he had promised her he would hire a boat and take her rowing for the afternoon. But before anyone could speak up with the suggestion that they make a party of it, he had added that the boat he had borrowed was very small, only big enough for two, and he was very sorry but he was a newly engaged man and needed some time alone with his betrothed.
He had smiled engagingly about the table and looked both roguish and charming. No one had uttered a single word of protest, not even Aidan, who might at that moment have chosen to act the part of elder brother since Wulf was not there to give his opinion on such a blatant indiscretion. But of course, she thought, they all believed she was betrothed to Josh. Perhaps they would not have been concerned even if they had known that the island was their destination.
Everyone else had proceeded to make plans of their own. The marchioness was to go visiting and informed Constance that she would accompany her-with the Reverend Calvin Moore. Chastity was to take everyone else down onto the beach. Morgan was going to take canvas and paints with her. Eve had made it clear that no one was even to think of going swimming.
Freyja turned her head and was surprised to find that it would still move on her neck. She could see them all there now on the sand, tiny figures looking enviably safe, some of them running, a few walking more sedately. Three of them, on the edge of the water, were waving. Prue and the children? Freyja lifted one hand and waved back.
She was suffocatingly aware that there were two blankets folded in the bottom of the boat. She had noticed them as soon as Josh and the fisherman whose boat this was had handed her in. She had stepped on them, in fact. If she were to ask what their purpose was, he would tell her that they were there to be wrapped about them if the wind should feel too chilly, but his eyes would laugh at her as he said it.
She did not ask.
'If you wish, sweetheart,' Joshua said, 'we can turn back right now.'
She regarded him haughtily. 'I am not afraid,' she told him. 'Not of anything. Are you?'
But he merely smiled his slow smile at her.
She noticed how the muscles of his arms and thighs flexed as he rowed. If the boat should tip over, she thought, she would simply swim. So would he. He would not let her drown. And she would not let him drown. She felt herself relaxing as she always did when she had once confronted any fear that threatened to daunt her.
At the same time her breath quickened and the blood hummed through her veins. What would happen on the island? Would she let it happen? Cause it to happen? Prevent its happening? Or would the question not even arise? Would they simply enjoy an hour of walking about and admiring the views and then return to the safety of the mainland?
For a while she thought they were not going to be able to land at all. The cliffs seemed too high, the shore too rocky, the sea too rough. But Joshua rowed around to a narrow, sandy beach in a small inlet, and he jumped out and pulled the boat up out of the water. He leaned over the side and slung the blankets over one shoulder.
Well, that answered one question at least, she thought, watching him.
'We may want to sit down for a while,' he said, grinning at her. 'Unless you plan to sit here all afternoon.'
She ignored his outstretched hand and climbed rather inelegantly over the side to the sand. He hauled the boat even higher before leading the way up over sand and loose pebbles and rough rocks to the land above. She scrambled after him.
The island was larger than she had thought. It stretched ahead in undulating dunes and depressions, a mixture of green, coarse grass, yellow sand, bare rocks, yellow gorse, and pink thrift. Seagulls were screaming overhead and from their perches on rocks and dunes. The air was crisp and salty. The sea was visible all around.
Joshua took her hand in his as they stood on a small promontory drinking in the elemental beauty of it all.
'It is strange,' he said. 'I had forgotten that there is much I loved about Cornwall.'
'In such a place,' she said, lifting her face to the breeze, 'it is easy to believe in God and eternity without the interference of any religion.'
'You had better not let the Reverend Calvin Moore hear you say that,' he said. But there was a warmth in his voice, a tenderness that caught at her breathing again and alarmed her.
'Did I give you permission to hold my hand?' she asked.
He chuckled softly and raised their clasped hands to bring the back of hers against his lips.
'Too late for that, sweetheart,' he said. 'You invited me here, remember? Just the two of us? There is another cove on the eastern side. It will be more sheltered from the wind than the rest of the island. Shall we go and sit there for a while?'
