"Look: the loops are intertwined to represent the joining of two souls. It is a Celtic love knot. It means Serch Bythol."
"Eternal love," Mira whispered.
"Will you marry me, Mira? I'm of age now and I'm sure Miss Pearson will give her permission for you to marry me. She will. She must! I can start building a little cottage for us, right next to hers, so we won't be a burden to her. Much as I love her cottage, it is too small for us. One day we will have a child, won't we?"
Mira stared blindly at the ring in the palm of her hand.
They'd had a child.
And Kit had never known.
You and me,Mira. You and me...
The door opened, and Nancy, with whom she shared the room, entered.
"Mira, are you well? You look awfully pale."
Mira climbed back into her bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin.
"I'm fine, Nancy. Don't mind me, please." She lay down and stared at the ceiling.
It had been seven long, lonely years.
In all that time she'd never had a dream that was so real.
Old dreams of love from a time that would never return.
Maybe it was time to let them go.
ChapterTwo
"Mira! Where is that girl?"
Mira threw the rag back into the bucket and sighed. She rubbed her head. That storm. That dream...
Kit.
Only this morning she'd thought she'd seen a boyishly tousled head emerge from the crowd around the stalls in Fleet Market, a cheerful whistle on his lips, a branch of evergreens on his shoulders. She'd dropped the sack of apples she was carrying, slipped on the ice as she'd scampered to collect the apples that bounced down the street, and nearly sprained her foot.
It hadn't been him, of course.
It never was.
It was the tousled head of an errand boy in livery. He'd been the same height, though. The same slender build, the same broad shoulders. The same cheeky whistle on his lips.
But Kit would be seven years older. No longer a boy.
And she was no longer eighteen.
She had to stop searching for him.
"What folly is this," Mira growled, rubbing her elbow. "Chasing after wisps of dreams."
It was the atmosphere, of course. The celebration that hung in the air. The snow that lay like a silver blanket on the rooftops. The smell of roasted chestnuts and mince, of gingerbread and sugared almonds.
And everyone seemed to be in love.
It was most vexatious.
