“I will be right about Esme, too.” He nodded sagely, helping her onto a small wooden stile. “You will see. Mother will have identified a suitor for her. She has an uncanny knack of knowing what is right for us, even before we know it ourselves.”
Mirrie paused atop the stile, taking the opportunity to look down upon her handsome husband, which was not a view she oft had chance to enjoy. His blue eyes crinkled into a smile as he slipped his hands around her waist.
“Your mother is wise indeed,” she agreed, soothing his thick hair back from his forehead. “I am still surprised at the role she played in our courtship.”
“Aye, whilst you fretted about deceiving her.”
“Quite rightly so.” Mirrie rested her hands lightly on his broad shoulders. “Deceit is a strong word, Tris. I would not say your mother deceived either of us.”
“’Twas more that she opened my eyes.” He rested his forehead against her belly and sighed with contentment. “I cannot help but wonder who she has in mind for my sister. Esme has been indifferent to all suitors so far.”
Mirrie made a noncommittal noise before jumping down from the stile. She shaded her eyes as she took in the timeless view of wispy white clouds above a sparkling sea.
“You think I am wrong?” Tristan came up behind her, wrapping his arms about her waist.
She leaned back against him, enjoying his height and strength. Over the last months, he had become her rock.
“I fear you are mistaken,” she corrected him.
Tristan laughed lightly, his lips tracing a faint line of kisses along her shoulder.
“Do not do that.” She wriggled away, unable to keep from giggling. “Else we shall never reach the cove.”
Hand in hand, they walked down the stony path, their paces evenly matched. Hardly a breeze stirred the long grass at eitherside of them, and the sea was calm and still, with the shallowest of waves breaking to foam softly on the shore.
Mirrie thought the water had never looked so inviting.
“Tell me the truth about Esme,” he urged as they rounded the corner and took their first steps onto the shingle.
“I do not wish to speak ill of your sister.”
“She is your sister too.” He smiled down at her. “What has she done that is so terrible?”
“Naught that I know.” Mirrie gripped his hand tighter to steady herself on the uneven ground.
“Then what do you suspect?”
She sighed. “’Tis more a fear that your bright, beautiful sister—ourbright, beautiful sister,” she corrected herself, “shows such indifference to marriage simply because she has already given her heart to another.”
“Surely that is a blessing?” He frowned.
“Only if the man in question is worthy of her.” Mirrie stopped and caught at his other hand. “Tris, let us not speak of this now. Esme is safe under the protection of your parents. No harm can come to her. Ignore my misgivings.”
“I am your husband. I shall never ignore your misgivings.”
His sincerity made her smile. “And that is only right.”
But Tristan was still frowning. “Mirrie, I know you to be wise in matters of the heart. And sensitive to the moods and actions of others. If you truly think that Esme is courting some disaster, please do tell me.”
“Not disaster.” She looked out at the sea for inspiration. “Only innocent mischief, mayhap. Esme is a woman determined to follow her heart wherever it leads her. After all I have learned these last months, I can only admire her pursuit of happiness.”
Tristan seemed unconvinced, but Mirrie had not brought him here to talk of his sister.
“You know better than I how the mighty de Nevilles can quickly turn any situation to their advantage,” she added, lightly. “And dear Esme has that ability in abundance.”
“I cannot deny it.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “What she lacks is prudence and a clear grasp of consequence.”
“Ah, but she has me for that.”
