Drat. This was not a good time to let her mind wander. “Tacking.”
It was early afternoon before she made the final push toward the beach where they’d rest and eat luncheon. He pulled his boots and socks off before climbing out of the craft into the water. Eugénie made to follow.
“No, you stay here.” He took the dock line, pulling the craft onto the shore. “There’s no reason for us both to get wet.”
The water.Will had longed to get in the sea since he’d arrived. It was so clear and warm. Nothing at all like the rivers and lakes back home. He caught a grimace on Eugénie’s face, which she quickly changed to a polite smile. Had she wanted to feel the water as well? He cast his mind back to their conversation yesterday.Damn. Of course she did. He’d find a way to give her the treat she wanted.
After all, other than about twenty ships in the harbor, they were alone. Surely no one would mind if she took off her shoes and stockings. Oh Lord.Her stockings. What he wouldn’t give to roll them down inch by slow inch. Did her garters tie so that he could undo them with his teeth, or did she have the fastening? In this climate, they must tie. The metal on the others would rust. His groin twitched.
Keeping his face averted from Eugénie, he snarled to himself.Haven’t you got us into enough trouble? Mind your manners or we’ll never get what we want.
The blasted thing had a mind of its own. This courting without touching her would be the death of him.
“Are you all right?” Eugénie stood as if to climb out of the dory.
He grasped her by the waist and lifted. “I’m fine.” His fingers burned as they came close to circling her small waist through the thin layers of muslin. It was all he could do to release her. Once she was on the ground Will grabbed the basket. “My stomach is complaining.”
“Ah, I see.” She reached in the boat, taking out a large cloth, then flicked it open.
Will helped her lay it on the ground.
She pointed to a corner. “Put the food here. We’ll have to anchor the other corners with our shoes.”
He hadn’t noticed before, but the wind pushed at the cloth. He put his boots in place and watched as she removed her sandals. Will could have held her whole foot in his hand. It arched as she wiggled her bare toes in the sand. Just as well she hadn’t worn stockings. The image of her removing them caused his chest to tighten, and he never would have been able to keep his promise to Andrew and Cicely.
Soon she had the dishes and plates arranged and was sitting cross-legged on the cloth. “There now. We may eat.”
Will stretched out on his side next to her. He’d expected cold chicken, cheeses and fruit. There was fruit, but instead of chicken what greeted him were bits of fried dough that resembled a circle folded in half. “What are they?”
“Pattés. They are filled with whatever Cook has.” She bit her lush lower lip as her brows lifted just enough to mar her brow. “I hope you like them.”
He’d eat anything if it would smooth out her wrinkled forehead. “I’m sure I’ll love them.” He took the one she handed him and bit into it. The crust was still firm. Exotic flavors he didn’t recognize burst both sweet and savory into his mouth. He swallowed and took another bite. It tasted like nothing he’d ever had before, but it was wonderful. “It’s very good.”
The worried expression left her countenance and her lips curved up.
“What is in them?”
Eugénie sniffed the piece he’d handed her before taking a taste. “Sweet potato, garlic, hot pepper, and conch. There are some other spices as well, such as curry.”
Will finished and picked up another one. “Chicken, I think.”
“Probably.” She chewed and swallowed. “I take it you are used to something quite different. What were you expecting?”
“Cold chicken, ham, fruit, cheeses and bread, perhaps a bottle or two of wine.” He told her of the picnics he’d had in England. “But the weather is much cooler.”
She picked up one of the small jugs and took a sip. “Ginger beer. Have you had it yet?”
“Beer?”
“It is not the same as a small beer. It has no alcohol.” Her face scrunched up, and he almost laughed.
“I take it you don’t like regular beer?”
“Non.”Eugénie held out a jug. “Try it.”
He’d had gingerbread, but the taste of the drink was much stronger. “Not bad.”
“I like it.” She took a drink of hers. “Then again, I’ve had it most of my life.”
