Those days of their youthful friendship, hers and Matthew’s, had been so very long ago. And at the end of them, when they had both married and thus taken their lives along vastly divergent paths, they had only just begun to be aware of each other as a man and a woman. Neither had admitted it to the other at the time because any relationship but friendship had been impossible for them.
Well, now they were friends again, and they had those feelings again. There was no point in denying it to herself. There was no ignoring the sexual nature of that kiss on Saturday and the way they had held hands all the way back to the house afterward. It was probably why they both seemed to have decided they must put an end to whatever was between them. But the end had not come yet. They had given themselves today to enjoy first.
And there was an island to explore.
“Stay close so you do not get lost,” she said when he had tethered the boat securely so they would not be stranded. Actually, the idea of being castaways had its appeal, but it was a bit of an unconvincing one. They could swim back to the boathouse without any great effort, after all. Besides, the food hamper was over there.
“Very well,” he said, grinning at her and taking her hand in his. “I will trust you to bring me back safely to civilization.”
“The pavilion here is an almost exact replica in miniature of the temple up on the hill by the house,” she said. “As you have probably noticed before. It is a lovely place to come and sit and dream, though I always loved it best by lantern light at night when there was an orchestra playing inside and crowds of neighbors and friends on the bank. That has not happened for a long time.”
For a moment she felt a pang of nostalgia for those days.
“And then there is the forest,” she said. “Come and see. The children called it the Dark Forest and tried to frighten one another or catch bandits or hunt down lions and bears.”
“A strange mixture,” he said.
“Not to children,” she said. “And not to adults who think like children. Are there not to be elephants and giraffes and dogs and monkeys and bears all coexisting with numerous other forms of life on a certain crib that awaits the carpenter and wood-carver’s skills?”
“Touché.” He laughed.
They moved among the trees, running their fingers over rough barks as they had always used to do, as though to feel the very life force of the tree within, and gazing up through boughs and branches and leaves to the sky above. They listened to the songs of unseen birds and the chirping and whirring of equally unseen insects in the undergrowth. They stepped carefully as they drew close to the water lest there be unexpected marshland to clog their shoes with mud and perhaps unbalance them. They clutched each other’s hands in mutual warning and stood very still as a duck led her line of ducklings out of an inlet into open water before they all bobbed away into the sunshine.
Soon—it really was not a large island—they came out onto open ground and the gently sloping grassy bank that had always been called the beach, perhaps because it sloped right into the water and retained its gradual incline for some distance out. One had to be careful not to ground a boat when one rowed close to here, but it was a young swimmer’s delight—and that of the adult who had charge of even younger ones who could do little more than splash and shriek in the wide shallows. There was no sudden drop into deep water and no great danger provided the adult watcher remained vigilant.
The beach was partially shaded by trees on three sides. The afternoon sun sparkled on the water of the lake on the fourth side. Flowers and bushes were blooming along the edge of the footpath on the western bank beyond, as they had seen from the boat a short while ago.
“This is a little piece of paradise,” Matthew said.
“It is,” she agreed. He was still holding her hand. He looked relaxed and contented. And—yes—virile and masculine. Whypretend she did not notice? She might be close to fifty, but she was not dead yet. And perhaps that was what was wrong with Lord Keilly, her beau. Not that he was dead either. He was a seemingly healthy, good-looking man with everything that might recommend him to her as a beau. He was a gentleman of good birth and property and solid fortune, a man of good character, according to all reports, and a man of impeccable breeding and what seemed like an amiable disposition. But there was no…Oh, what would be an appropriate word to describe what it was about him that failed to attract her? There was no sizzle. It sounded like a very frivolous word to use in such a context. But that was it exactly. There was no sizzle in her relationship with Lord Keilly and no chance of there ever being any.
One ought not to expect sizzle from a romantic relationship when one was firmly established in middle age.
Oh, what utter nonsense!
Was it sizzle she felt with Matthew, then? It was certainly more than just friendship and even more than mild attraction. Goodness, they had wanted each other during that kiss. She had no doubt it had been mutual.
“A penny for them,” he said.
For her thoughts? She smiled, imagining how he would react if she answered truthfully. “I was thinking,” she said, “that perhaps we ought to have brought the picnic hamper over here with us.”
“I can go back for it if you wish,” he said. “But I think I would prefer to wait for my tea. Shall we sit down?”
“I did put a few towels in the boat,” she said. “Old habit. There was almost always a need of them with the children. They do not serve well as blankets, however.”
“And what is the matter with bare grass?” he asked, releasing her hand in order to bend down to rub a hand over the ground. “Bone dry. And looking and feeling like a thick carpet. Would you like my coat to sit on?”
“No,” she said, and sat, arranging her skirts carefully around her before removing her bonnet and fluffing up her flattened hair as best she could. The air felt deliciously cool against her bare head. The grass was lush and springy all about her. He sat and turned his head to smile at her.
“Definitely paradise,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Our last outing was almost all about me,” he said. “It is your turn today, Clarissa. Tell me more about this crisis with which you are dealing.”
“Crisis?” She frowned at him, startled. “That is rather a strong word.”
“I believe you have reached a definite juncture in your life,” he said. “It is probably something you consider impossible to discuss with your family, or even your women friends. It is, rather, something you feel you must work through alone. Tell me.”
