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She smiled and studied her fingers. “Yes, it is only fair that you should know my name, as I know yours, my lord.”
“You know my name? How?” he asked, surprise filling him.
“You are Godwin, Lord of Ravensbury. Everyone in this part of Cornwall knows that.” She looked up and smiled warmly at him. “Indeed, I have seen Lady Ravensbury in town now and then.”
Ah, so she knew he was married, was his immediate thought, and shame once again traveled through his mind. What must she think of him, married to such as Sara?
“Very well, then,” he said softly. “As you said, it is only fair I know your name.”
“I am Heather Martin.” She looked away towards the white foam spilling on the rocks.
“Oh, so you are the vicar’s niece?” he said, surprised.
“Yes, the same,” she answered, still not looking at him.
“But that is impossible!” he exclaimed.
“Is it? What an odd thing to conclude,” she said, turning a bemused eye to him.
“What I mean is…” he started.
“What you mean is that you have heard the vicar’s niece is a spinster of sorts and that I am far too attractive to fit the fiddle?” she teasingly interrupted him and arched a brow.
He laughed out loud, inclined his head and said, “Indeed, far too beautiful to be a spinster, and too young.”
“I am one and twenty, nearly in my dotage, you see. Up until last month I chose to teach in the school my father founded in Hampshire. However, when I lost him…well, the school was closed, lack of funding, you see—so here I am at Uncle Martin’s, driving them to distraction because I am not interested in the young men they throw at me.” She stopped and shook her head. “Gracious…whatever made me go on and on to you in such a manner?”
“Please don’t stop. I want to know…everything about you,” he whispered, and his dark eyes found her eyes as he drank deep.
* * * * *
Heather and Godwin found themselves meeting often after that first encounter. Their reasons…all too obvious, although Heather told herself she was rushing to meet him only because he was her beloved friend, someone who understood her, someone she felt whole with—no more than tha
t.
How he made her laugh and how often she told herself that she was dipping into dangerous waters. He was another woman’s husband, but oh, the thought of not being with him, not listening to his dear voice was far more terrifying.
At some point, Heather looked inward and honesty roared its hoary truths. Her motives, she told herself, needed questioning. Clearly she saw what Godwin made her feel, and she felt so very much when with him.
Truths are frightening revelations of heart and mind, and she couldn’t deny that she needed Godwin, wanted him, and dreamed of kissing him, of holding hands, of being with him. All these things told her that her heart was lost to a married man who would never be hers.
Somehow he had worked himself into her mind and soul and now she was forever lost to her love of him. It was wrong. He was married, she drummed into her head. He belonged to Sara.
He had confided a great deal to her over their weeks of friendship. He had told her that his marriage was a sterile thing, lifeless and hateful. He had told her he had felt dead inside for so long…until he had met her.
He told her how Sara had tricked him into marriage and how he now suspected that she had tricked him with intent from the first moment she smiled at him. He told her how he felt she had somehow thwarted his courtship of Lisa, tricking them all. He never held back as he spoke from the heart. Heather listened to him as all his angst and heartache flowed out and saw the relief he felt at confiding in her.
He was Godwin of Ravensbury. How could she live with him so near, knowing he would never be hers? What kind of life had she to look forward to if she allowed her heart to rule her head?
Godwin stared at himself in the looking glass. Once again, he felt alive. The vivacity of youth had infected him. He only knew that his life had taken on new sparkle, his heart felt light, his nerves tingled, and his blood bubbled with passion. He only knew that Heather was the source of his delight, of his newfound purpose.
What was the answer? There could only be one. It came to him late one day in May of that same spring. They met, he and Heather, at Land’s End, on the cliff she called Windmera. How she loved it there, how he now thought of it as Windmera. They met with but one shared thought—to make the other happy.
Godwin watched her as she came to him, and knew himself on fire. He reached for her, and she fell into his arms for their first kiss.
It was enchantment.
They cherished one another and they drank of a fount that for them was innocent and pure. Forgotten was the world with its demands. Forgotten was the world and its snares. Such was the joining of Godwin and Heather.
