“I am glad you waited for me,” he said.
Her arms fell to her sides and she gazed at him, her face alight.
“Which way shall we go?” he asked. “East? West? South?”
“Oh.” She spun about to consider each direction. “South. To the water’s edge. Will you be comfortable walking that far?”
The dog had already made off in that direction.
“I am on a beach at last,” he said. “Let me at least dip the tip of a cane in the water.”
The tide was farther out than it had looked. But walking on the sand really was relatively easy, and he would ignore any discomfort anyway for the pleasure of doing what he was doing. This was food for the future. It was her first walk on a beach. It was his first in years. And they were doing it together.
The dog was running along the edge of the water, kicking up a spray as he went.
“Dare I?” Samantha said. It was not really a question. “I suppose the water is dreadfully cold.”
She was gathering up the sides of her dress even as she spoke, and she stepped into the shallow water, which barely wet the sand, and then over the nearest ripple of the incoming tide until she was ankle deep.
“Oh, itiscold,” she said on a deep inward gasp. “And my feet are sinking into the sand. Oh, this islovely, Ben.” She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes sparkling. “Come in too.”
He really ought not. If her feet were sinking into the sand, what would his canes do? And his boots would be white with brine after they dried, and Quinn would look reproachful and long-suffering. What if he lost his balance and fell in? How the devil would he get up again?
She had stopped moving.
“It feels cold only for the first few moments,” she said. “It probably would not feel cold at all through your boots.”
“That was all I needed to hear,” he said and stepped into the water while she shrieked with laughter.
Hecouldfeel the coldness even through his boots and stockings. And his canes were indeed sinking rather alarmingly into the wet sand. But though he was only a few feet from dry land, it felt as if he had stepped into a different element. The sun beat down hot upon them. The sea sparkled about them.
He felt a sudden longing for George or Hugo or one of the others to see him now. He laughed.
She stepped closer to him, gathering her skirts into one hand as she came, and she took one of his canes in the hand that held the fabric and stepped closer still.
“Put your arm about my shoulders,” she told him.
“My weight would be too much for you,” he protested.
“Do it, anyway,” she said. “I promise not to collapse.”
He felt embarrassed, even a little humiliated, but he had no choice short of snatching back his cane and perhaps offending her—or throwing himself off balance. He made it a practice almost never to lean upon anyone. He set an arm about her slim shoulders, and she fit herself against his side and wrapped her free arm about his waist.
Oh, Lord.
“We arenota cripple and a poor, long-suffering nurse,” she said, laughing up at him, her flushed, bright-eyed face alarmingly close, “but a man and a woman who have found a perfectly reasonable excuse for being close to each other.”
He thought he was probably flushing too.
“Do weneedan excuse?”
“It would seem so,” she said, beginning to walk along the edge of the water with him. “We have been very careful to leave a decent sliver of air between us since that night we shared a room. You are lean, Ben, but you are certainly not frail, are you? Quite the contrary, in fact.”
He was not going to respond with any description of her body.
“Am I leaning too heavily on you?” he asked. He was trying to put most of his weight on his cane, but that made it sink deeper.
He could feel the generous curves of her body all down his side. One firm, heavy breast was pressed against his coat. She was tall, though not quite as tall as he. He was aware of the faint scent of gardenia over the saltiness of the sea air. Her body felt warm through the flimsy barrier of her dress and stays.
