"I needed the walk."
Corin looked up then, past Rafe, and lifted a hand toward Isla in the meadow. "Have you met Isla Green?"
The moment Rafe turned, he held for a half-second longer than he should have, and then he looked at the crate and pulled a folded paper from his jacket pocket. "I need a signature on this for the delivery record."
"Sure." Corin took the paper.
Isla crossed the meadow. There was no graceful alternative, short of staying at the far end and waiting for him to leave, which she was not going to do.
"We've met," she said, when she reached them. She glanced at Rafe. "Briefly."
"Outside Diana's inn," he said. His tone was the same neutral register he'd used there too, completely uninflected, the voice of a man who was finishing a delivery and thinking about something else. He did not look at the sky, did not look at the meadow behind her, and offered nothing further.
Corin glanced between them before he signed the paper and handed it back.
"Storm damage keeping you busy?" he asked Rafe.
"Enough to stay occupied." Rafe folded the paper. "Hull caulking cured overnight. Bracket for the bow rail goes to Silas today."
"He'll sort it. Best metalwork in the valley." Corin picked up the crate and looked at Isla. "How were you getting on?"
"Well, until about five minutes ago."
"Weather shifted?"
"Changed direction."
Rafe had not moved toward the gate yet. He was looking out at the meadow now, reading the sky above the ridge with the same automatic assessment she'd watched him use on the lake during the storm.
"Four minutes of clean control," he said. Not to her specifically. Not to Corin. Just an observation dropped into the air. "Then the wind dropped."
"You were watching," Isla said.
"I was walking up a track with an open sky above it." He finally looked at her. "It's hard to miss."
Corin said nothing. He had the particular stillness of a large, perceptive animal that had decided the best thing it could do was hold very still and let the other two work it out.
"The connection broke," Isla said. "The arrival of unexpected company will do that."
"Well, good thing there won’t be a next time," Rafe said, which was not an apology and not not an apology. “But I don’t think unexpected company should determine whether you have control or not.” He pocketed the folded paper. His jaw had that same set it always had, that controlled steadiness that gave nothing away about what was happening behind it, and she did not like that she was looking at his jaw or thinking about what was behind it, especially after his last comment, but she knew she would say something she would wish she hadn’t if she responded, especially with Corin standing there.
"I'll leave you to it." He said it to both of them equally, which was somehow the most irritating part. She was not special enough to say goodbye to separately. She was just part of the scene.
"Thank you for the delivery," Corin said.
Rafe nodded once and turned back down the track. The gate creaked behind him and his steps faded into the orchard.
Corin did not say anything for a moment. He set the crate down on the stone wall and looked at it, then looked at the meadow.
"You had four minutes of clean hold before he came up the track," he said.
"Yes."
"You've never had four."
"I know."
"So whatever broke it wasn't something you did wrong." He picked the crate up again. "I'm going to put this inside. Take as long as you need."
