Chapter 24
It’s easy to act normally once AJ, the sea, and the sun charm me. I can pretend I never heard the things Gould said. AJ and I spend the day hunting seashells. Several times I stop and watch my husband, scanning for any sign of duplicity.
I suppose he won’t paint it on a placard.
He’s brought spices and a pot of cawl from a place called The King’s Head Inn, and food has never tasted so hearty and delicious.
“I traded a small load of fish for it,” he said with a shrug when I inquired how he’d come by it.
I nearly ask why any local Cornishman would care to trade for fish, but I don’t bother.
AJ can charm a rock into giving him milk.
When we finish eating, he catches me and spins me about, holding me close in a wild dance before slowing, letting me slide down until my toes touch the sand.
I forget the raw skin on my calves. He’s definitely forgotten his injured feet.
His gaze holds mine, the green-gold depths drawing me, tugging down my defenses.
He knows it, too. “Do I sense a weakening of your reserve, my lady?” he asks close to my ear. Then he kisses it.
“Weakening?”
“You want to make a go of this marriage, don’t you? To make it a true one.”
Those last words vibrate in my mind.
He kisses me again and it sizzles on my skin. “You do have a knack for this marriage business.”
He chuckles. “I’m glad to hear it.”
The butterflies intensify in my stomach. I push back. “You must have done this a dozen times,” I say casually, casting my gaze away so he cannot read the test in my eyes. “Charming a woman, that is.”
He throws back his head and laughs, pulling me close and kissing my neck.
I place both palms on his chest. Something must keep the distance. “You know, I’ve never asked—have you been married before, AJ? There’s so much we ought to know already—”
“Which we have all the time in the world to find out. What a boon!” He dips me backward, my hat falling back into the sand, then pulls me upright again. “Perhaps we should learn the steps one day, eh?”
But then he draws me close, his hand bracing the small of my back and his vibrant face so near to mine, and I can hear Cecil’s clear voice telling me about answers that don’t say anything.
“Well?”
“Well what, luv?”
“Have you been married before? You’re a handsome man of nearly three and thirty.”
He lifts our joined hands and guides me in a graceful, slow spin, his lightly scruffy face so near, his gaze holding mine. “You’re lovely as a picture. I should have you painted, once we’ve funds again.”
Thom’s wizened face flashes through my mind. It is a painting done by one who truly sees…and loves you. Anyone can tell.
I cling to AJ’s arms to stop the turn, but the beach continues spinning.
Go home to your husband, dear Merryn.
I cannot breathe.
Let memory shape who he is to you—the good memories.
Memories. The curse of humanity…and my only rescue. I look up at the man I’ve married. His grinning face is angled heavenward as he enjoys the breeze. I place a palm on his chest and pin him with a stare. “Have you?”
“What, married? Me?” He laughs. “Of course not. No one but you, luv.” But there’s a funny stretch to his smile. “Now. How’s about a race?”