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“You have lovely hands, Mabel.”
She glanced up quickly and regretted it at once. He stared into her eyes, his own resolute. He was going to say something important—she could feel it.
“Mabel, I realize that we have a rocky past, that I was not exactly kind to you that day in the vale. I know I can never fully apologize to you, but I should like to do my best to make up for my foolish actions as a boy, to show you how very much I have changed.”
This was no declaration. It was an apology? Mabel was unsure what to think of it, what to make of his words.
“I have tried to show you how I’ve changed this last month,” he said, pulling her closer, refusing to release her hand. His skin on hers was intoxicating, and the smell of his shaving soap intensified, mixing with the salty air, making it utterly impossible for her to back up. “And I would like to continue to do so if you would allow me.” He swallowed, but then his mouth bent into a firm line. “I would like to ask your father for permission to address you, Mabel.”
He…what? Mabel could not breathe. The sand below her feet was unsteady, and she felt as though the sound of waves crashing on the shore intensified at once, blending with the birds overhead and the laughter down the beach. The sea roared in her ears while Mac’s face swam before her.
He could not mean it, could he? Swallowing, she found her voice. “You wish to beg permission to address me? Can you not simply address me now?”
His brow furrowed. “No—of course not.”
She pulled her hand from his grip and stepped back, needing a bit of space in order to breathe. She was not the fainting type, but she had come awfully close a moment before. And his words were dangerous, inconstant as they were. He either wanted her, or he did not.
“I do not have time for games, Mac.”
“No, I shouldn’t think you do. I just mean that my prospects are not—”
“Your prospects?” He meant marriage? Mabel stepped back again, the world spinning before her. His hand came under her elbow to steady her, and she sought his gaze, hoping to find the truth there. “How can you speak of such things to me?”
Mac scrubbed a hand over his face. “I realize I should have waited until I knew for certain. There are too many variables I must sort through before I can offer for you.”
“Offer for me? Mac, what the devil are you talking about?”
A smile fought its way onto his lips, and she found her gaze glued to them, unable to look away. They looked so soft, and she had a sudden, unreasonable desire to brush her finger along them to see if they were as soft as they appeared. “Your language is not befitting a lady, Mabel.”
“And?” she asked, unable to fight the blush that warmed its way up her neck.
“And I am utterly enthralled by you.”
The breath whooshed out of her lungs. Mabel could not take any more of this. She removed herself from his grip, so certain that she would be able to think clearly once more if she was given proper space to breathe.
“Is everything all right?” Giulia called, returning with Pippa along the rocky shore. “Does your hand hurt, Mae?”
“I am well,” Mabel called back. Struggling to stand this close to Mac but not touch him, not allow him to continue touching her, Mabel turned from him and made her way down the beach. She did not make it more than a few paces before she halted mid-step. Mr. Wright stood just a few yards away, his hands hanging limp by his sides and a hard expression on his face.
He had just witnessed the entire episode.
* * *
Mac had bumbled things with Mabel. He’d been such a fool to say anything before he knew what sort of debts he needed to pay for his father, how great his portion of the prize money was going to be, and how much blunt he would have left over when it was all sorted.
But she had been in his arms—nearly—and it had felt so natural, so right. He’d wanted to close the distance and embrace her, hold her close to himself and tell her how much he loved her.
But what if the prize money did not pass through the courts? If Mac was left with the money he had now, he would be penniless by the time he freed his father—if he could come up with enough money for that.
No. He’d done the right thing. He would not offer Mabel anything less than a good situation. He merely needed to ensure he had one of those, first. Mac would not do to Mabel what his father had done to his mother.
“Is it much further up?” Charles asked, panting.
“No, it is just up ahead.”
Mac led the group up the slope and toward Camden Court. There was a small clearing where the property opened up, surrounded by trees to abate some of the wind, but still in perfect view of the vast ocean. It was one of the reasons Mac had wanted to purchase the estate. It was a blessed thing the house was empty now so they might make use of its land.
Charles motioned to the servants near the carriages and they sprang to action, untying the baskets from the boot of the first carriage and carrying them to where Charles and his guests were gathering. Mabel hung back, using Miss Pepper and Pippa to shield her from the gentlemen. When Mr. Wright had come upon them, he’d looked angry, but Mac did not care. The man did not deserve Mabel, and his current pouting only further proved as much.
