A rowing boat tied up at the wharf bobbed about in the water. Nathaniel hefted her into his arms and descended, then set her on her feet on a step beside the boat. Laura eyed it withalarm.
Nathaniel held her arm and assisted her as the craft rocked alarmingly under her feet. “Sit there in the middle.”
Uneasy, Laura obeyed. Her woolen suit was completely unsuitable for scrambling about in boats. Unstable in her high-heeled boots, she clung to the hard, wooden seat as the boat danced on the waves. The ocean swirled beneath them, deep and forbidding. What had she gotten herselfinto?
Chapter Seven
When Nathaniel sat opposite Laura and picked up the oars, Teg untied the mooring rope and pushed them away from the dock. Nathaniel began to row, steering the boat out into the bay. Within minutes, they had left Teg and the wharfbehind.
The ocean churned in a wash around them. Laura glanced in dismay at her best boots as the boat dipped, and spray splashed over the sides to pool in the bottom. What if they were swamped? She couldn’t swim. The prospect of her heavy suit and footwear dragging her down made her suck in deep breaths of brinyair.
She refused to express her concerns and watched her new husband with reluctant admiration, both annoyed and impressed with how calm and capable he was. It was impossible to imagine anything untoward happening with him in control. He grew up here and was at home on the sea. There would be no nasty surprises, she repeated silently like a mantra. The wind picked up. She clung to her hat that must now resemble a limp, old cabbage leaf, grateful that it shielded her eyes from the surprisingly sharp glare off thewater.
Nathaniel pulled hard on the oars. “Not far now.”
“The abbey is on an island?” she managed to say, dreading hisreply.
“No, Wolfram joins the coast farther on, but the causeway is the quickest way to the village. If you’d agreed to wait for the tide to turn, your journey would have ended in a more comfortable fashion.”
“This is not unpleasant.” Laura chewed her lip on the lie. “I wouldn’t have asked you to row in your good clothes if you’d explained.”
“What do clothes matter? Isn’t this invigorating? We’ll be there soon.”
His voice held a rasp of excitement, like a boy on Christmas morning, she thought with a reluctant smile. The mist cleared and a narrow jetty appeared, where a small sloop rocked on thewaves.
“Welcome to Wolfram,” Nathanielsaid.
While he secured the boat to the jetty, Laura gazed up at the abbey. Its tower, as unyielding as a mountain peak, emerged from the fog as the sky began to clear. Nathaniel lifted her onto the wharf. There was a rambling garden filled with flowering trees and shrubs spilling over a stone wall. Laura’s heart leapt at the sight of something so ordinary and familiar as she followed him along the path.
Nathaniel whistled. A moment later, exuberant barking rent the air, and a pair of red setters raced down the hill. Glossy ears bounced and tongues lolled as they pounced on their master in delight. “Meet Orsino and Sebastian.”
Laura laughed. “From Shakespeare’sTwelfth Night?” Her husband constantly surprisedher.
He grinned. “A favorite play.”
The dogs barely acknowledged Laura; their love for their master took all their attention. After he rubbed their ears and gave them a pat, she walked with him up the path, the dogs rushingahead.
They entered through a wooden gate in the stonewall.
The garden of purple magnolia and white azaleas that had caught her eye grew among ancient gravestones, the scent of jasmine cloying. Laura was taken aback. It looked so… forbidding. “Your ancestors?”
Nathaniel turned away. “Yes.”
She silently cursed herself for her insensitivity. Of course, his late wife, Amanda, would be buriedhere.
He smiled and held out his hand to her. She clasped it, and they continued up the hill. Laura’s breath shortened as emotion and exhaustion took their toll on her depleted energy reserves. She chided herself for her weakness, but she was tired; so much had happened, and it had been a longtrip.
Nathaniel pushed open an iron gate which led into a cobblestoned courtyard. The abbey appeared, sheer walls of granite darkened to black by the fog, the long, mullioned windows reflecting a leaden sky. Above a set of wide steps, the solid pair of arched oak doors were set within a square frame of ornamental stone molding, with a solid brass knocker in the shape of a lion’shead.
“Orsino, Sebastian, to the stables!” Nathaniel commanded. The two dogs whined in protest, but turned and loped off around thecorner.
The door opened. A dark-haired young maid in a black dress, white apron and mobcap bobbed. “My lord.”
Nathaniel frowned. “Where is Rudge?”
“Gone into the village, Your Lordship.”
“This is Lady Lanyon, Dorcas.”
