She scoffed. “Everyone has agreed, Captain, that there are no witches. It’s just a story invented by frightened, pious men to make children shake in their boots.”
“Yes, and witches are ugly crones, so you couldn’t possibly be one.”
He walked over and plopped down beside her. He sat much closer than he should have, so his thigh and arm were pressed to hers. She didn’t scoot away to put space between them, and he was delighted to learn she wasn’t squeamish.
He studied her keenly. She was older than she’d seemed the previous night. She was so petite that, initially, he’d worried she was a girl out alone in the dark, but no, she was definitely a woman. She was very refined, her movements graceful and elegant, but it was her eyes that riveted him.
They were big and green and brimming with merriment, as if she relished the day and was always happy. What would it be like to be so free and comfortable in the world? Even though he was from a rich, prominent family, he’d always felt as if he had a foot off the center of the line.
His upbringing had left him moody and prone to sulks, and it was exhausting to keep harkening back to his horrible rearing, but he was too reflective. It was a reason he never came home. His mother had been awful, his sisters miserable, and his father . . .
Well, his father had been such a tawdry, sorry man that it was mortifying to describe him. Yet Jacob was his son, so he couldn’t really ever stop pondering him. His great hope was that he’d never exhibit any of his father’s immoral traits, and in fact, he’d once sworn to his mother that he would never behave so reprehensibly.
Most of the time, he lived up to that lofty vow.
“Would you do me a favor?” she asked.
“It depends on what it is.”
“Would you please never mention I’m a witch when you’re talking about me?”
“I was joking.”
“I realize you were, but there are plenty of people in this country who don’t like to hear about a woman brewing medicine or practicing the healing arts. I like it at Ralston, and I wouldn’t want to ever upset anyone where I might have to depart.”
“I like to think our neighbors are modern and educated. They don’t truck with much superstition.”
“It’s a rural locale, and nonsense can spread quickly and without warning.”
“I suppose that’s true, but I wouldn’t let you be hurt of insulted.”
“How, precisely, would you prevent it? I could hardly contact you for assistance when you were on a ship in the middle of the ocean.”
He patted her knee. “Don’t fret about it. Not on such a lovely afternoon.”
“I’m not fretting. I just wouldn’t like to stir any anger.”
“I don’t see how you could. You’re much too meek and fetching to cause any trouble.” He pointed to the stream. “Is the water cold?”
“No, it’s very refreshing.”
“Will you faint if I shed my boots and stick my feet in too?”
“I’ll try to bear up.”
He yanked off his boots, his stockings too, then he plunged his feet in, but the temperature was frigid, and he grimaced. “You scamp! It’s icy.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
She was correct; his skin adjusted rapidly, and he rested his elbows on his thighs and scrutinized the area. The scenery was bucolic, and it was embarrassing to acknowledge how often he complained. He had to cease being so negative about his home.
He peered over at her and said, “Would it surprise you if I admit I wasn’t aware this stream was here?”
“No. You’ve never tarried much at Ralston.”
“How could you know that?”
“I know all sorts of things about you. I’ve been at the estate for a whole decade, remember?”
She smiled a smile that was probably similar to the one Eve had flashed at that poor sap Adam, and alarm bells rang in Jacob’s head. She exuded a calmness and serenity that drew him in, so he was eager to linger in her company.
He could envision himself growing besotted as a green boy, but she was a maiden, living under his protection, and she was some kind of healer, so she was very far beneath him in class and station. Any attention he paid her would be wrong, and she would misconstrue it, but even as he recognized those issues and scolded himself, he stayed right where he was.
Evidently, he was content to make any number of mistakes with her.
“I was talking to Kit Boswell about you,” he said.
“I hope he didn’t tell you anything too horrid.”
“No, nothing horrid, but nothing truly relevant either.”
“What would you consider to be relevant?”
“Where are you from? How did you wind up at Ralston?”
“I came with my Aunt Pru. We resided in a village near Telford, but her benefactor passed away, and the property was sold. We didn’t have anywhere to go.”
“She was a healer too?”
“Yes, and a renowned midwife. She was famous in many circles, and she delivered hundreds of babies in her life.”
“Hundreds? My goodness.”
“She sent out letters, requesting a new situation, and a friend invited us to Ralston. Eventually, after she’d proved her worth, Mr. Boswell let us have our cottage. He claimed she was a blessing to the ladies in the neighborhood.”
“Kit Boswell said that? He must have been drunk.”
She smirked. “Maybe he was, but after he sobered up, he didn’t evict us. Will you? Now that you’ve learned about it? Promise me you won’t. I’m happy there, and I have my niece, Clara, to raise.”
“No, I won’t evict you. Besides, you’re nursing my sister, so she’d kill me if I tried.”
“Thank you. I’m grateful.”
“Would it surprise you again if I confess that I had no idea about you or your cottage? I can’t picture where it’s located.”
“It’s off the beaten path.”
“You’ll have to show it to me. You must realize that.”
“I’m not showing you my cottage.”
He huffed with feigned offense. “I’m lord and master on this estate.”
“Just barely,” she muttered.
“And if I demand you oblige
