“And though I do not appreciate how she has been attempting to manage us, I do not mind in this moment.”
Neither did she. They were in a perfect setting, it was a beautiful day, and nobody else was around.
Sterling leaned forward and opened the basket and took out roasted chicken, fresh bread, plums, which had been recently picked from the orchard, and strawberries from their fruit garden, wine, glasses, plates and utensils—everything that they needed to enjoy a repast, including napkins.
Caroline added a few choices to her plate while Sterling opened the wine and poured two glasses.
“Cook apologized that the wine comes from another local vineyard, but since we do not bottle ours at the vineyard, it was impossible to enjoy something we have grown.”
Caroline laughed. “Do not tell the owner of Wyndview Farm, but I do enjoy drinking Groot Constantia on occasion.”
“As does a good portion of the world,” Sterling grumbled. “They sell more than we do. Even Napoleon in exile receives cases of Constantia.”
She had not meant to introduce what appeared to be a bitter topic. “Your wine does sell well does it not?” she asked when she truly did not know. Yes, they produced it, but once it was shipped, Caroline did not know where it was bottled, or what type of profit Trade Wynd earned.
“It does well, and I should not complain.”
Yet, she sensed that he wanted to. “Are you going to brood for the rest of the afternoon because I enjoy your competitor’s wine as does a former emperor who waged war that killed thousands over your wine?”
She meant to tease him into realizing how ridiculous his complaints were but Sterling grew serious.
“I am sorry. I should not complain. Hundreds of men died because of Napoleon, your husband included, which makes my complaint rather selfish.”
Caroline had not even been thinking about Peter when she mentioned the deaths. “Do not concern yourself. It has been three and a half years and I have not forgotten.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t.”
She did not want to think about Peter and changed the subject.
“You said that you send the wine to England, America, and the Caribbean. What do you bring back?”
“Sugar, molasses, tobacco, and cotton,” he answered and then started telling her how many ships Trade Wynd owned. Where they sailed. What they imported, what they exported. It was all fascinating that a cargo ship filled with wine would return filled with sugar—coveted items on both sides of the Atlantic.
“Have you ever wanted to visit America or the Caribbean?” He had already visited several countries on the Continent, but the one that most fascinated her was Greece.
“I would, but I have been gone for almost a year and cannot take more time to sail across the Atlantic.”
“Maybe you can in a few years,” she suggested.
Caroline understood that he had duties in England but if she had access to a ship to take her anywhere that she wanted, she would travel the world.
It was a silly thought, especially when she may not even be given the opportunity to return to England.
“Where do you suppose your mother will send you tomorrow?” she asked.
Sterling snorted. “There are not many places left to visit. At least few that are close because I am not going to ride in a wagon for a full day again.
Caroling chuckled and leaned into him. “Was your bottom sore?”
“I expect that it is also bruised,” he grumbled before he began to smile. “Maybe I should ask you to take a look to see if it is. I would be happy to check you for bruises as well.”
“I am certain you would.” Caroline laughed as her blood heated.
“But when and how?” he straightened and glanced around.
“Certainly not here!” she objected. They were out in the open and anyone could decide to visit the beach and watch the penguins.
Sterling leaned in and took her hand then kissed the back of it. “I do want to…be alone with you again in a setting where no one will find us.”
