It was in Kilbride village that he saw her again, her dark curly hair pinned back under a hat. She stopped to chat to another girl and he pretended to tie his boots, then he walked on and followed her.
‘Hello there, Miss Goulding. How is that fine mare of yours?’ he said as he drew level with her.
‘Silver is fine,’ she replied, not breaking her step.
‘I am heading out to do a bit of fishing later this evening. You are welcome to join me,’ he heard himself saying. It was out before he thought about it. She might tell her brother Edward or that mother of hers who would scare the life out of you that he had propositioned her. He would never get work again on the estate. He was about to say that he was only joking when she spoke.
‘What time? I’d better see if I can get out of my needlework class.’
He could hardly believe it.
‘About four. Down past the lake, at the bog entrance.’
‘Look forward to it,’ she replied.
‘Bring something warm, it gets cold on the boat.’
‘See you then.’
She walked off and again he wondered if he had dreamt the whole conversation.
If anyone knew, they would surely stop it. He knew himself it was not right, but he also knew that the wilds of the sea in all their power could not stop him from seeing her again.
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