by Sahara Kelly
The sound of their hammers and tools sent a pleasing breeze of tapping and tinkling sounds over the rock-strewn sands.
For an hour or so, they both explored the cliff face, Lydia excited at finding bits and pieces that were definitely fossils, but not complete. Then, just as Mowbray rested on a large flat rock to clean some dirt off his tools, she shouted.
“Oh. Oh Mowbray. Come and take a look at this…”
He hurried over to see what she’d found. She was staring and pointing at a place where her chisel had chipped away a portion of stone. It looked as if it had shattered, or split because it had revealed a smooth face, and the perfectly delineated shape of a small starfish.
“It’s…it’s…” Lydia’s voice was hushed as she gently touched it with her fingertip.
“It’s a lovely specimen, all right,” agreed Mowbray, leaning over her shoulder to take a closer look. “Here, let me see if we can extricate it without doing any damage.”
She stepped back, giving him room to move closer and examine the rock. It looked as if it was part of a larger piece, and it took a few moments for him to find a spot where he could tap and perhaps encourage the fossil to break off without shattering.
“All right. Let’s try this.”
“Oh, be careful…” She almost danced next to him.
He held his breath and tapped gently, chisel in one crack to the left of the fossil.
Nothing happened.
He tried again and this time there was a shift, a little rattle of loose rock—and then the shard containing the specimen broke free and dropped into his waiting hands.
“You did it, you did it…” She danced from foot to foot in excitement. “You did it, Mowbray. You are so clever. Just brilliant.”
He couldn’t help smiling at her praise, even as he dusted off the loose particles and turned the stone in his hands, making sure it was secure and not cracked anywhere else.
“Here you are then. Your first real fossil find.”
He offered it to her and watched as she reverently took it and held it close, examining it with fascination. “How lovely. How…astounding.”
He understood. It was breathtaking to think that they were standing together near the ocean and looking at the permanent remembrance of something that had lived before there were people on the face of the earth. Lydia was one of the few individuals he’d met who not only grasped that notion, but was intelligent enough to be awed by it.
“It’s a good one.” He grinned at her.
“Thank you, dear Mowbray. Thank you so much…” She looked at him from her perch on the rock and put her hand on his shoulder, intending, he assumed, to kiss his cheek.
He didn’t know what came over him, but he moved.
And her mouth landed on his.
For a second, both stilled, and then Mowbray surrendered to his overwhelming attraction to this woman, slipping his arms around her and letting his lips caress hers.
Her hands reached for him and he shifted closer, the fossil now behind his neck as she pulled him to her. He tightened his hold, bringing their bodies together and sliding his tongue between her lips, kissing her with eagerness and hunger, tasting her, exploring her and drowning in the warmth of her body against his.
Somebody moaned, but damned if he knew who had made the sound.
She welcomed him, set her tongue to duelling with his and tightened her arms around his neck, fingers in his hair.
At last, she drew back, her eyes soft, her cheeks flushed. She whispered his name.
“Mowbray.”
“I—I—” His voice cracked and words deserted him. He could only watch her face as she fought for composure and tried to pull herself together.
“Well,” she croaked. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Well, goodness.”
“Yes. Er…quite.” Oh, what a perfect thing to say to the woman you just kissed, you idiot.
Suddenly she smiled, her tension gone, her lips a little swollen from his kisses. God, he wanted to kiss her all over again. Many times.
“You are a constant source of surprise, Mowbray.” She glanced down at the fossil. “And you have given me such a magnificent gift.”
“You found that, Lydia. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Au contraire,” she grinned. “You brought me here. You let me hunt fossils without a word about helping me or where I should look or anything. You treat me as if I am intelligent.”
His eyes narrowed. “You are intelligent. I defy anyone to try to persuade me otherwise.”
“That’s what makes you unique.” She managed to step down from the rock and onto the firm sand. “And now I can also say, with the utmost truth, you are an extraordinary kisser.”
Mowbray blinked, felt colour heating his cheeks. “Er, I’m glad you think so.” Confused and more than a little aroused, he took a step back, his foot landing on a slippery rock.
The result was inevitable. He staggered, lost his balance and sat down hard—smack in the middle of a puddle of seawater.
Chapter Ten
“It’s perfectly all right. You can feel free to laugh,” sighed Mowbray, looking at his empty brandy glass.
Lydia took pity on him. “It was quite a tumble, but fortunately he wasn’t hurt.”
The room was still silent.
“My dignity took a bump.”
Ivy cleared her throat. “I’ll wager it was a bit…er…damp?” She blinked at him over the top of her sherry glass.
“Yes.” Mowbray gave up and threw his hand in the air. “Yes. If you must know, my arse was freezing on the way home.”
And that did it. Explosions of barely suppressed laughter echoed around the room. Miles clapped his brother on the shoulder, wheezing, and Colly doubled over on the sofa.
The hilarity was to be expected, Lydia realised, but for some reason she wished it wasn’t quite so enthusiastic. A strong urge to protect Mowbray arose, but she shook her head against it. He wouldn’t welcome the thought of a woman’s skirts offering him shelter.
Besides, they were among friends.
Sir Ronan managed to tame his hilarity down to a chuckle. “Wet breeches, lad. The very devil they are as I know well, since if you’re sailing a yacht you’d better get used to ‘em.”
Prudence wiped her eyes. “I am sorry Mowbray. I am not laughing at your misfortune, it’s just that you painted a very vivid picture.” She coughed. “I could quite see you sitting down in that puddle…” And off she went again.
Rose choked. “Bless you, Mowbray. That is one of the best stories. And you tell it so well.”
Colly finally pulled himself together. “I’m sure we’ve all got a few such tales tucked away, Mowbray,” he grinned. “But we’re smart enough to hide ‘em.”
Mowbray raised an eyebrow. “I had no choice. Since most of you were here when I arrived and clearly spotted my…er…condition, well it was incumbent upon me to tell you how I came to be in such a sorry state.” He sighed again. “I did like those breeches too. Just got ‘em nicely broken in.”
Ivy shook her head. “I think we all ought to chip in and buy you a new pair, Mowbray. As a punishment for laughing at you.”
“A lovely thought,” he smiled back. “But not necessary. I’d probably do something equally awful to a new pair. Best I destroy the old ones first.”
“Well, as long as you have something decent for tomorrow night.” Sir Ronan passed him a re-filled brandy.
“Tomorrow night?” Lydia tipped her head to one side. “What’s going on tomorrow night?”
“Ah, that’s our bit of news,” said Prudence smugly. “Since Colly and Ivy sailed with us to the Stauntons, we all had some tea when we arrived. That’s when Lady Susan told us she’s holding what she calls an impromptu country supper, with dancing.”
Miles rubbed his chin. “Sounds like a romp to me,” he muttered.
“Oh, but Grandfather, please let me attend?” Rose playfully blinked her eyelashes at him at the same time as she punche
d him in the shoulder.
“Well, of course we’ll go,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “But you know she has a few chaps staying with her and Sir Francis. That means there will doubtless be a few local ladies to make up the numbers. And all that, my dearest, will—without doubt—devolve into a romp. Mark my words.”
“Don’t be a snob, dear Miles,” Lydia walked over and tweaked his ear. “I’m sure it will be a charming evening. Perhaps we can dance on the shore by the waves?”
Judith laughed from the depths of the easy chair she filled. “What kind of slippers are you planning on wearing, dearest?”
Lydia tossed her head airily. “Perhaps I shall kick them off and dance on the sand barefooted.”
“See?” Miles pointed at her as he shot a speaking glance at his wife. “A romp. What did I tell you?”
A general laugh followed his words as Lydia shook a finger at him in mock-anger.
“Well, I don’t want to cast a damper on the proceedings,” said Ragnor, “but Judith and I won’t be joining you tomorrow night. We have to leave for Withersby Park in the morning.”
A chorus of “oh no’s” and “don’t go’s” greeted this announcement, and Judith immediately teared up.
Ragnor whipped out a handkerchief and passed it to her without even looking.
“I’m sorry,” she hiccupped, taking the offered linen and wiping her eyes. “I am having a lovely time, but I knew we would have to go home before too long. I have to see the family physician and then we must decide whether to visit Ragnor’s family, return to London at the end of the summer, or stay at Withersby until the babe arrives.”
“Duty calls,” said Ragnor. “And believe me, I’m as sad as my wife at the thought of leaving you all.” He glanced down at her with a grin. “Although since I’m not enceinte, I don’t cry as much or as often.”
She frowned. “I have become a dreadful watering-pot these days.” She handed back the handkerchief. “Such a nuisance. But please know how wonderful it has been, here at your home, Ivy and Colly. I think Maiden Shore is the most incredible spot for a summer holiday. We really do hate to leave.”
Ivy crossed the room, bent over and hugged her. “We understand, Judith. Truly. And just think, next year you two and Little Withersby will be able to run up and down the beach together.”
“Erm…” Colly joined Ivy. “I assume, when she works out the mathematics of the time element, she’ll understand why that won’t happen next summer, but I believe you can grasp her sentiments.”
“I do,” Judith gripped Ivy’s hand and hung on. “And I’m going to be sorry to miss Miles’s romp tomorrow night. You’ll write and tell me about it?”
“Every word,” promised Ivy. “Every naughty detail, torn flounce and each and every single bit of trouble Lydia stirs up.”
“Me?”
“Yes, darling, you.” Ivy snickered. “Impromptu is your middle name.”
“No it’s not,” shot back Lydia. “It’s…well, never mind.”
Of course that was more than enough to pique everyone’s curiosity and since Woodleigh announced dinner in the middle of it all, the conversation carried over to the meal and even a little while afterward.
The night was unusually balmy, so once again the assembled party gathered on the terrace to enjoy their preference for beverages.
Lydia found herself standing next to Mowbray at the edge of the terrace, looking out over the water and watching the waning moon rise over the Isle of Wight.
“I’m sorry they teased you, Mowbray,” she said, keeping her eyes on the sea.
“I’m more than used to it. You know that.” He shrugged. “It really isn’t terribly important.” He turned a little and leaned on the balustrade, his gaze on her face. “And they are all my friends. Being teased by a friend is a sweet irritation. Being bullied…well, that is just ugly.”
“You’re right, of course.” She glanced at him. “And truly what I shall remember most about today is finding my lovely fossil.” She paused. “And kissing you.”
He shifted slightly and swallowed. “That will be my memory of choice as well.” He gave a slight chuckle. “Of course, next to a long walk with a wet backside, pretty much anything I recall will be an improvement.”
She laughed with him, then let silence fall between them for a few moments.
“Mowbray?”
“Yes?”
“I am going to be shockingly honest with you.” Lydia lifted her chin and looked back out over the water. “I’d like to kiss you again at some point.” She flashed him a quick look. “Just…whenever. If you wouldn’t mind.”
He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t mind at all, Lydia. Unfortunately, we have an audience…” He gestured briefly with his hand toward their friends laughing on the terrace.
“I didn’t mean now, silly.” Her shoulders rose and fell on her laugh. “But perhaps sometime soon. I should tell you—no. No, I shouldn’t.”
With that, she turned, scared she might say too much under the influence of moonlight and the nearness of a man who kissed far too well for her comfort.
“I am tired from our outing. You’ll forgive me if I retire…”
“I’ll forgive you just about anything,” he said quietly, surprising her by picking up her hand and kissing her knuckles. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She dipped her head, retrieved her hand and made her way to the side of the terrace, slipping into the house before she was missed.
She didn’t want to have to be social. She didn’t want to have to list reasons for wanting solitude this night.
Because there was really only one reason.
Mowbray.
*~~*~~*
How he made it through the next day, he wasn’t quite sure.
The Withersby carriages arrived in the morning, so he fetched and carried along with an army of other helpers to settle Judith and Ragnor comfortably for their journey.
How they had managed to arrive with one carriage and yet needed two to leave—well, that was one of life’s mysteries he doubted he’d ever solve.
It was a blessing, he knew, that he hadn’t dropped anything, fallen over or otherwise disgraced himself with his clumsiness. Especially when his mind was not focussing very much on the chores he was doing, but on a certain young lady who happily joined the fray, laughed with him and everyone else, and carried on with him as if nothing had happened.
He did his best, but by God, something had happened. His entire world had been turned upside down by a single kiss.
Distracted as the thought of her slashed a path through his mind, he narrowly avoided Sir Ronan, making his way through the bustle toward the parlour.
“God, man. If the British Army travelled like this, a lot of wars would have taken a great deal more time to get started.”
Mowbray couldn’t help a grin as the Irishman looked around him with an expression akin to mild horror.
“Tell you what, lad. Let’s take that sail…if you’re free?” He raised his eyebrows. “Just an hour or two. Peace and quiet. Wind in your face, salt on your tongue. What say you?”
There could be no other answer. “Can we go now?”
Of course it did take another half hour or so, but with some adept manoeuvring amongst their friends, Mowbray and Ronan managed to extricate themselves and head for the Maeve. Since it was just the two of them, they walked briskly across the field to the Staunton property and down to the shore and the small pier where the vessel rocked lazily on gentle waves.
“‘Tis not a day for speed, my friend. I can’t whisk you around yon island…” Ronan leapt up onto the wooden planked jetty and headed for the ropes.
“No worries,” answered Mowbray. “Shall I untie these?” He stood next to ropes that secured the aft section of the yacht.
“In a moment.”
Ronan did all the things Mowbray felt a sailor should do; ropes were a bit of a mystery, but since he seemed to know what he was doing, Mowbray let hi
m issue orders and directions and before too long they had pushed away from the dock.
“Now let’s see where she’ll take us,” said Ronan, pulling things and pushing things and finally unfurling the sail, letting it flap merrily in the mild breeze.
“This is nice,” said Mowbray, perched on one of the convenient seats toward the back of the yacht, while he watched his friend demonstrate a variety of seaworthy skills.
“She’ll catch the wind in a wee bit,” Ronan answered, coming aft to take the tiller. “So a trip with the breeze, east I think, down past Cowes to the Water?”
Knowing that Southampton Water met the Solent a few miles down the coast, Mowbray nodded. “Aye, aye, Captain,” he grinned, with a brief touch of his hand to an imaginary cap.
Within moments the sail billowed, the yacht eased into the wind with a happy creak or two, and Mowbray heard the kiss of salty seawater purling around the curved hull. He sighed with delight. “This is truly wonderful, Ronan. I can understand why you enjoy it so much.” He leaned back and stretched his arms out to either side, resting them on the smooth wood of the gunwale that ran the length of the vessel. The sun shone down from a clear sky, warming him, and he closed his eyes for a little while, letting his other senses lull him into an unusually relaxed state of mind.
“I needed this,” he murmured.
“Everyone needs this,” Ronan answered. “Just pure clean air, the sound of the sea and the birds, and freedom to think as one wishes. Or even not think at all.”
Mowbray opened his eyes and shot a look at the other man, standing hatless at the tiller, his hair tossed, his shirt open, jacket somewhere else. There was a piratical look to him, thought Mowbray somewhat whimsically.
“You’re right,” he agreed. “And I have to add you look the part. I’m sure the ladies must have spasms watching you sail.”
That surprised a spurt of laughter. “I’ve not observed spasms,” he replied, still chuckling. “But I’ll not deny that there’s been a wee bit of appreciation for a nice jaunt now and again.”