Lady in the Mist - Laurie Alice Eakes [47]
“And if I’m not too much of a sinner for you to listen to me, God,” Dominick said aloud, “don’t let the information about Trower take the months it could to get to England and back.”
He held out little hope that God heard him. He was too busy taking care of the good people in the world, like Dominick’s second-eldest brother with the Army, or the eldest one, the heir, helping their father run the family estates. They were good men, devout in their worship of God, strong in their faith.
Dominick didn’t think he would have been suited for the Army either. He feared he was doing a poor job of spying. At least he had done something by asking for information on Raleigh Trower’s release from the Navy.
Still tempted to dive into the inviting coolness of the water, Dominick turned away and headed back toward the village. If he got home before sundown, no one would suspect a thing about him taking a long walk on a Sunday afternoon. He hadn’t seen another soul since leaving the paved streets of Seabourne.
But he saw someone now. She stood at the edge of the water, wavelets teasing her bare toes and threatening to soak the hem of a faded blue gown. Tied back with an equally faded blue ribbon, her auburn tresses hung in wildly curling abandon to her waist.
Dominick swallowed the groan that rose in his throat. His fingers ached to reach out and bury themselves in her hair, gather it to his nose to see if it smelled like lavender and roses, rub it against his cheeks to feel its silken texture, press it to his lips . . .
“A mermaid indeed,” he said in a voice no louder than the muttering surf.
She cried out and jumped as though he’d shouted in her ear. One of her feet slipped in the loose sand at the water’s edge, and she flailed her arms for balance.
Dominick leaped forward and grasped her around the waist. He drew her to more solid ground.
“I am sorry.” He continued to hold her, noting even through the stays she wore beneath her gown that she trembled. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“No, you simply make a habit of sneaking up on unsuspecting females.” Her voice and the breath that followed quivered too. “Now, if you please, release me.”
“I’ll release you.” He did so. “Even though doing so does not please me.”
“Mr. Cherrett.” She sighed again and turned to face him.
He caught his breath.
Her eyes looked like someone had struck them, so dark were the bruises of fatigue around them. Their clear blue-gray now resembled a misty morning, and the whites shone with red veins. Her creamy skin held no hint of color, and her wide cheekbones stood out above hollowed cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” Dominick pressed the back of his hand to her brow. “Are you ill?”
“No.” She took a step away from him. “Thank you for asking. My health is good.”
“If you don’t object to me saying so, Madam Midwife, your health looks anything but good.” He’d felt no fever, but all was not right. “Tabitha—”
“I haven’t given you permission to use my Christian name.” The words should have been snapped, especially when she interrupted him to utter them, but her tone remained quiet, neutral.
Dominick smiled and touched a forefinger to her lips. “You did when you didn’t smack my face for kissing you.” He half expected her to do so now and be done with it.
A delicate pink tinged her pale skin and she dropped her lashes over her eyes. “I have never struck anyone in my life, Mr. Cherrett. Even if you deserved it, I am a healer, not a person who harms others for my own satisfaction.”
“Then I can kiss you with impunity.” Dominick grinned at her.
Her lips compressed. “I don’t recommend you do so.”
“Not even after I take you to the fete?” He hadn’t meant to invite her now, but no time like the present one. “You will go with me, will you not?”
“The fete?” She looked vague. “Oh, you mean the Midsummer Festival?”
“I do indeed.”
He gave her a hopeful smile.
She said nothing, simply gazed out to sea.
“Or am I too presumptive in asking you, being a bondsman and