“Will mentioned a landmark. He said to enter the woods at this crossroads and we’d find a deer trail leading to the pond.”
“You’ve not been there before?”
“No. But he explained it in detail. Shouldn’t be difficult to find.”
“Said Admiral Perry when searching for the North Pole.”
“We needn’t hike. We may resume our ride instead if you prefer,” he offered.
“I’m quite ready to explore if you are. Lead on. But, please, help me to my feet.”
Guy scrambled up and took her hand to pull her upright. When they were face-to-face, he had to give her another kiss. Two. Four.
For several moments they held each other and kissed under the shelter of the tree.
At length, Hattie withdrew her hot mouth from his. “We must stop this. What sort of a woman must you think me?”
“The sort who knows her own desires and fulfills them when she wishes to,” he replied. “I hold you in the highest esteem, Mrs. Glover. And, now that we know each other quite a bit better, may I finally begin using your first name? Hattie or Harriet, whichever you prefer.”
She pressed her lips together then touched them with the tip of her tongue as if feeling the pressure of his mouth upon hers. “Hattie will do.” Then, all in a rush, as if she could not stop the words escaping, she added, “My given name is actually Hortense, which is simply awful.”
She had truly reinvented herself after coming to London, name and all. More than ever Guy ached to know the circumstances that had prompted her to escape her past. “Your last name is not Glover, is it?”
“No. It was, and I suppose still is, Gladwell.” She shook her head. “But I’ve told you too much. I don’t know what it is about you that pries secrets from me.”
Guy made a locking motion over his lips. “I will never tell, I swear. You may unburden yourself and I will say nothing to anyone.”
Hattie changed the subject. “We ought to continue on so we can find this picnic spot before the sun sets. What landmark are we searching for?”
“A signpost near the tree, Will said. But I don’t see—”
“Like this one?” Hattie indicated a faded sign lying in the grass not far from the tree. The words were unreadable. But sure enough, a faint trail started nearby and led into the woods.
They rolled their cycles into the underbrush to hide them from any would-be thieves, unstrapped the hamper which contained food and a blanket to sit on, and headed up the path. Since the way was too narrow to walk side-by-side, Guy carried the hamper without Hattie’s help. The farther he trudged into the wilderness, the heavier it became, dragging his arm down on one side. As for the track, it nearly disappeared. Clearly even animals weren’t fond of fighting brambles that tore at one’s legs or tripping over fallen branches and jutting roots.
“Are you quite certain this is the way?” Hattie asked from behind him. “It seems very little used.”
“Carmody did mention he had not come here since he was a boy.”
“Did he also mention the mud and mosquitoes?”
Guy slapped at one of the pests singing near his ear. “I see a flash of light off some water just ahead. We’re nearly there.”
The closer they came, the damper the ground grew, graduating from slightly muddy to swamp-wet in only a few yards. Guy dragged his foot from sucking muck and nearly lost his shoe. “Right there,” he called encouragingly.
He came to a halt and surveyed an algae-coated bog hemmed in by reeds and cattails. No incoming stream disturbed the surface and obviously no underground spring brought fresh water to the standing pool. But there were large, flat boulders to the right, where Will had said he used to dream for hours while reading a book. This stagnant pool was not at all the cunning glen Guy had visualized.
“I guess this is it.” He waved away a cloud of gnats rising from the fetid swamp.
His guest joined him in surveying the brown water. “Charming spot. Very romantic.”
“I tried! Blame Carmody. He was the one to rhapsodize about the place.”
Hattie looped her arm through his. “I’m only teasing. I don’t mind at all. The best-laid plans often turn to…”
“Shite,” Guy completed.
She laughed and bent to pick up a small stone that she threw into the water. It broke through the skim of algae to hit the water with a plop. Immediately, a chorus of plops followed as frogs around the perimeter dove into their watery home. A few rays of sunlight slanted through the canopy of branches over the dying pond and for a moment, the glade was illuminated quite magically. Dust motes danced like tiny fairies upon the sunbeams.
Then Guy realized they were not dust motes performing aerial acrobatics, but a buzzing flight of mosquitoes heading right toward them.
He grabbed up the hamper which had begun to settle into the mud and seized Hattie’s hand. “Run! We’re about to be devoured alive.”
She shrieked and trotted alongside him. “Who knows what sorts of magical beasts live in that dark water. We might be dragged under and never heard from again. No one would know what happened to us.”
“A cautionary tale for youngsters.” He felt the first sharp sting on his neck and let go of Hattie’s hand to slap the attacking insect.
Single file again, they pelted back the way they’d come. By the time they reached the long grass near the road where their bicycles were hidden, mud had traveled from their ruined shoes up their legs. Hattie’s skirt was half soaked in it. Guy’s trousers fared no better. Both of them sweated as if they’d worked in a field all day, and Hattie’s hat had been lost somewhere along the way.
Guy dropped the heavy hamper to the ground and rubbed his aching shoulder. “There’s no place to freshen up or fill the water bottle.”
“Heavens, we might die out here miles from civilization,” Hattie joked. “Don’t
