She nodded. “Yes. Papa”—her voice tightened when she mentioned his uncle—“borrowed a horse and taught me and the other children. He said it was a skill we must have.”
They’d reached a path running along a narrow strip of beach. Pale turquoise water lapped the shore. Farther out, the color deepened. “Is this it?”
“It is.” She raised her face to his. “We used to bring the children here so they could chase the waves.”
Suddenly it was important to know everything about her. “Did you run on the sand as well?”
Eugénie smiled, but her eyes held a trace of sadness. “When I was young. Now it is notcomme il faut.”
He wanted to see her happy, skipping back from the sea, riding a horse and, by God, once she was his wife, she’d do whatever she damn well pleased.
“We could bring the children here, and I’d promise to turn my back and keep your sisters busy while you ran in the water.”
She glanced up at him in surprise. “You would play with them?”
“Of course I would.” He smiled. “I enjoy children.”
They’d reached a small point jutting into the bay. There were no convenient benches around, but he found a large rock and spread his handkerchief over it for her to sit for a moment. The wind had picked up, blowing the dark chestnut tendrils around Eugénie’s face as she stared out at the ships. Her light muslin gown molded to her body, giving him a view of all he wanted to touch. Damn, she was beautiful. At the Whitecliffs’ party, she’d shone like a jewel, but to-day, dressed in green with small violet flowers embroidered on her gown, she reminded him of spring. Would Eugénie even like England? Emma Marsh, his friend Harry’s wife, was from Jamaica and had adjusted well, but she’d come for her first Season knowing she’d probably remain.
Had Eugénie ever thought of moving away from the Caribbean, and how would he convince her if she didn’t want to leave?
Chapter 16
Eugénie glanced at Wivenly. It had startled but pleased her that he liked children. That was definitely a point in his favor. Perhaps this getting to know him was a good idea.
She lifted her nose to the breeze. The wind was gaining strength and the scent of rain filled the air. No clouds, but she couldn’t see to the east from here. She hopped down off the rock. “We’d better start back.”
Wivenly held his arm out to her as he had on their way down from the house. She placed her fingers on it, and he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. Unlike before, when he overpowered her senses and made her want what she shouldn’t have until after marriage, being with him was comfortable. Her heart still beat faster when she was with Wivenly, but it didn’t thud painfully, making it hard to draw a breath, as it had before. Perhaps she was becoming immune to him and soon he wouldn’t bother her at all. Did that mean she would not love him? Maman and Papa always seemed affected by each other.
She stole a look at his lean profile. Though his linen drooped a bit, which was not surprising in this weather, he was still beautifully dressed. What would it be like to stroll or ride with him in London?
Under his hat, his neatly coifed brown hair was streaked with gold, and his lips—it wouldn’t do to think about them and how they caused fire to course through her body. Oh dear, perhaps she was not impervious to him after all.
She sighed softly, and he glanced down. “Are you tired?”
“No, not at all.” Eugénie didn’t dare say how attractive she found him. God only knew what Wivenly would do with that knowledge. “It’s such a lovely day. I’ll be sad to see it ruined by rain, even though we always welcome it for our plants and cisterns.”
“Rain?” He looked up, studying the sky. “I don’t see any clouds.”
“No, you won’t until they are directly over us. It’s in the air. We need it, yet I wish we had more time.” Eugénie shut her mouth. If she didn’t stop talking, she was bound to say something she shouldn’t. Such as that she wanted to spend more time with him.
They were almost at the bottom gate to her house when a black cloud moved over them. “Quickly, come this way.” She turned the key in the lock. “We shall have to take a chance of interrupting my sisters’ lessons.”
Wivenly held the gate, then closed and latched it behind her. He was on her heels as she made the porch leading to the children’s level. The sky opened up as she touched the fine muslin hanging in the doorway.
He whipped his hat off. “You were right. It is as if someone ripped a hole in the cloud and all the water is pouring out. There were not even any warning drops.”
What an apt description. Eugénie grinned. “Is it not like this in England?”
“No. The rain usually gives a man a fighting chance to get under cover.”
Two of her sisters sat at a long table, the third was curled up with a book in a large leather chair that had seen better days. All their eyes were turned toward Eugénie and Wivenly.
She untied her bonnet and removed it as she addressed the governess, Miss Penny. “I’m sorry to disturb you. We would not have reached the top floor without a good soaking.”
The girls’ blue gazes stared up at Wivenly.
“Allow me to present—”
