Lady in the Mist - Laurie Alice Eakes [93]
Maybe not cut her skin, but he would break her heart. She couldn’t respond.
He shook his head. “We still need to have that cose.”
“Cose?” She didn’t know the word.
“Talk. Chat. After we eat, please.”
“Of course.” She felt a little hunger now. “Patience is waiting for the crabs. We can cook them and bring them back down here.” She smiled. “Since our alfresco meal was ruined, we may eat all of these ourselves.”
“We still have the strawberries.” His voice had grown rough.
Tabitha glanced at him and her mouth went dry. He was looking at her lips. “Come—come up to the house. We’ll share the strawberries with Japheth and Patience.”
“Of course.” He headed over the dune, his stride long and loping, covering the ground with an appearance of unhurried grace while moving quickly. His carriage made him appear what he was—a man of rank, privilege, education, and possibly wealth once upon a time. Such men did not carry on more than a flirtation with a woman of her background, however well educated her father. She sullied her hands in her work. She saw the deprivations of human nature. The Eckleses and Blackburns, and all her other relatives who had come from Great Britain to the new world, wouldn’t have associated with the likes of Dominick’s family except as servants. Dominick’s current status didn’t change that. If he’d been American-born, perhaps. But not an Englishman.
Yet she followed him across the sand, as she feared she would follow him anywhere. When he left, she might have to pursue him.
At the moment, he led her to her own kitchen door and Patience and Japheth snapping the first beans of the season.
“We’ve brought you crabs,” Tabitha announced.
Dominick held up the dripping basket. “Just tell me where to put them.”
Patience jumped up so fast she knocked over her chair. “I’ve a pot keeping hot. Just a bit more wood here, and we’ll have a fire hot enough to boil.” She glanced from Tabitha to Dominick. “You look flushed, child. Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Perhaps the sun.”
Or the proximity of the man beside her, smelling of the sea and the sandalwood that sailors brought from the East or rich men purchased from merchants.
“I seem to have lost my hat,” she added, her hand flying to her bare head.
“I’ll run back and look for it,” Dominick said, and was gone.
“The water’s boiling,” Patience announced.
Tabitha retrieved the basket of crabs, hefted it over the pot, and dumped its contents. Patience followed her with salt and herbs. In moments, the rich aroma of boiling seafood with peppercorn, thyme, and sage filled the kitchen. Steam rose from the pot and swirled through the slanting rays of the sun.
The afternoon had sped by, between the pleasure of crabbing with Dominick and the horror of the snake. In too short a time, Dominick would have to leave, and he still needed to tell her how she could help him gain his freedom.
His freedom to return to his country, his family, the life where he belonged. A life where the sons went to Oxford and an eastern shore midwife didn’t belong.
She would be a fool to help him, even if, as he said, he didn’t intend to run away from her. Of course he would. He had no reason to stay.
But he came back this time. As Tabitha began to pull the first of the crabs from the water, he reappeared in the doorway, her hat in his hand. “It was lying on the jetty.” His gaze traveled to the shellfish. “How do we eat these creatures?”
“I’ll show you.” Tabitha scooped a dozen crabs into a clean pot and handed it to him. “I’ll fetch the basket.” She tossed a smile over her shoulder at Patience. “You and Japheth eat without me. I’ll be back by dusk.”
Walking beside Dominick back to the tide line, she thought she probably would enjoy herself. Regardless of what he told her, she couldn’t think it was anything so terrible she couldn’t enjoy his company for a few more hours.
They settled on the sand with the sun slanting from behind them and the limpid blue of the sea and sky stretching out forever ahead of them. The beach appeared deserted except for the gulls hovering in anticipation