Page 71 of The Cornish Bride

He removed his arms and sat back on his heels. “Come along, we’d best get back to the house before you shock any more local dignitaries with your appearance.” As though he was talking to a child.

She sat up, bristling. Was that how he saw her still? As the child who’d trailed round Ormonde behind him and Kit? She was not a child. She was a woman, and he needed to be made to see her as that.

He rose to his feet and held his hand out to help her up, but she ignored it and stood up on her own, one hand out to the wall for support. A woman who didn’t need help from a man.

No longer holding hands, their short-lived intimacy fled, they continued back up the path to the Court in silence.

*

Sam could havekicked himself. Why the hell hadn’t he kissed her when he had the chance? She’d been lying there on her back in the path, humor dancing in her eyes, and with it an invitation, and he hadn’t kissed her. She’d said she hadn’t wanted him to die without her having kissed him, without knowing what it was to be kissed by him. Was that not enough of an invitation for any man?

He glanced furtively sideways at her but she was walking with her head down, her chestnut curls bouncing on her slim shoulders. How pretty she looked, even dressed in those dreadful breeches. How beguiling. And he’d let the opportunity slip through his fingers because he was a coward. Because he feared she hadn’t done it because she loved him, but merely to try to make up for the fact that in six weeks they’d never so much as kissed. So that he wouldn’t die without ever having kissed his wife.

At the house they parted, and Ysella disappeared upstairs, presumably to find the cowardly Martha and change into something more befitting the mistress of the house. He watched her slender figure as she ran up the wide wooden staircase, then stood for a long minute in silence, cursing himself afresh. He could still have caught her in his arms right here and snatched that offered kiss, but he felt it would have been a cheat’s kiss, and he couldn’t do it.

Rosie emerged from the door to the servants’ hall, carrying a vase of flowers. Seeing Sam standing, staring up the stairs, she stopped beside him. “Penny for your thoughts, surr?”

Sam sighed and shook his head. “Just feeling rather tired, Rosie.”

“Me an’ all. ’Twas a good thing what you done. A brave thing. There’s many masters round here wouldn’t ha’ done such a thing for folks they didn’t know.”

He shrugged. “Someone had to do it. I couldn’t just stand there and watch them all drown.”

She nodded. “Gone upstairs, has she? To her smart lady’s maid?”

Sam glanced sideways at her. How did she know he was staring after Ysella? “Gone to change her clothes.”

“She do make a good boy. A right pretty one.”

He nodded. “But she can’t stay like that, no matter how much she’d like to.”

Rosie grinned. “Fair lovestruck, aren’t you, my ansum?”

For a moment, Sam considered reprimanding her for her affrontery in commenting on his feelings, but he was too tired for an argument, and he felt sure there’d be one. And besides which, she was quite right. Instead, he just shrugged.

“She do like you too. Only she won’t say.”

Sam turned to face her. “She does? I mean, I know she likes me as a friend. But I fear not in the way I’d like her to like me.” What was he doing saying this to his housekeeper? But she had about her the comforting air of someone he could confide in. Someone with an innate wisdom he could draw on. “What do you think I should do then?”

Rosie’s face broke into a wide grin. “Why, woo her, thass what, lad. A girl, any girl that is, she do like bein’ wooed. You can’t just expect a girl to give of herself if you don’t put no effort into it. Love don’t just happen overnight, no matter what you’ve heared. Thass a girl what needs wooin’, mark my words.” She patted his arm. “She’s got feelin’s for you, thass for sure. But she won’t be showin’ them to you lessen you puts some effort into it.”

Sam straightened up and managed a smile back at her, even though it made the side of his face hurt afresh. “Thank you for your wise words, Rosie. I had no idea you dispensed wisdom as well as pies and stews.”

Rosie set the vase of flowers down on the small table at the foot of the stairs. “Been married three times m’self, so there don’t be a lot I don’t know about wooin’. You put yourself out to spend time with Miss Ysella, ’stead o’ workin’ all day in your office or visitin’ the farms. She needs to be with you if you want her to love you, which I can see you do, plain as the nose on my face. You mark my words. That girl loves you already, but she just don’t know it herself yet.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “And now I’m off back to the kitchen to get dinner on, or you’ll be givin’ me my marchin’ orders. Wise words don’t fill bellies.”

With no more ado, she abandoned the vase, whether it was where she’d intended it to be or not, and bustled back through the servants’ door. After she’d gone, Sam stood for a while longer, contemplating what she’d said and the way Ysella had behaved on the beach. Perhaps Rosie was right. Perhaps Ysella needed some gentle wooing.