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Elinor nodded hesitantly.
“Perhaps once you are safely down, you can show me what delightful pastry your mother has supplied for the party?” William asked.
“Oh, those are pear tarts.”
William made a face, scrunching his nose in disgust. “Pear tarts? Oh, how awful. Do not tell me you like pear tarts?”
Elinor laughed. “I love them. You would too if you tried them.”
“I think not,” William said. “I despise pears and all things relating to them.”
“These are different. They aren’t like normal pears. They’re in tarts.”
William made a show of considering this. “You propose the idea that I might enjoy them just because they are wrapped in pastry and cinnamon? Hmmm. That is an interesting concept. If I help you down, then perhaps we can try them together.” He reached toward her, and she hesitated only slightly before placing her good hand on his shoulder and holding her injured arm against her chest.
William took her by the waist and lifted her from the branch, setting her softly on the ground.
Mabel released a long, relieved breath and took Liam from Pippa’s arms. Speaking quietly, she leaned close. “Good heavens, that had me worried. Elinor was too nervous to jump to me. She feared hurting her arm again.”
“Thank heavens for Mr. Blakemore,” Pippa said.
“Truly,” Mabel agreed. She evidently hadn’t picked up on the dryness of Pippa’s words. Mabel raised her voice to be heard by William. “We will soon be in trouble if you continue to rescue my children, Mr. Blakemore. I need to find a way to repay your kindness.”
A smile spread over William’s lips. “I think I could rescue them a dozen times over and still be in your debt. You cannot know how grateful I am for what your husband did for me today.”
Mabel nodded, adoration gleaming in her eyes. “He is a thoughtful man. I do hope you feel welcomed to Collacott, Mr. Blakemore. We must schedule a time to have you and your family over for dinner. Perhaps after church on Sunday?”
“I think that would be wonderful.” William looked at Pippa, his eyes full of meaning, and she had difficulty breaking her gaze away. He had come to Elinor’s rescue twice now with no enticement. He’d merely acted out of the goodness of his heart. Perhaps he was more trustworthy than Pippa had allowed herself to believe.
Liam fussed again, his tiny wail piercing the joyous conversation. Someone on the far end of the clearing had brought out a violin and the lilting string music drifted over the people.
“It sounds as though there will be dancing?” William said, though he voiced it as a question.
Mabel nodded, bouncing her unhappy babe. “You now know where our priorities lie, Mr. Blakemore. Here in Collacott, music and dancing rule the day. I think our people will use just about any excuse to come together to eat and dance.”
William nodded sagely. “Eating and dancing. What more do we need in life?”
Pippa removed one of her gloves and handed it to Liam, who put it in his mouth greedily, chewing on the fawn leather. It quieted him, but she knew it wouldn’t do so for long.
“If you are truly of that opinion, sir, you fit in quite well already.” Mabel looked over her shoulder before offering them an apologetic smile. “I must go find my husband. I think Liam would like to go home soon. Pip, will you keep an eye on Elinor?”
“Of course.”
Mabel slipped away, and Elinor huffed. “I do not need looking after. No one is looking after James.”
“I don’t believe James found himself stuck in a tree this evening,” Pippa said.
William bent, resting his hands on his knees until his face came level with Elinor’s frown. “I believe you promised to introduce me to your magically delicious pear tarts, Miss Mackenzie.”
Her frown lost its irritated edge. “I know you will like them.”
“I hope you are correct. Shall we?” He stood, bending his elbow and offering it to Elinor like he was a gentleman taking her on a stroll. She grinned and placed her tiny hand on his arm, and they took off toward the food table. Music built behind them as a drum added its steady beat to the violin, and people clapped and hurrah’d the musicians—their friends.
William stood before the table, a pear tart in his hand and an exaggerated, anxious look on his face. Pippa followed them, standing between them, as Elinor giggled again.
“You simply eat it,” she said around a crumbly bite of pastry. Evidence of the treat clung to her mouth and over her chin. Perhaps it was not unreasonable that Pippa would have had a crumb on her lip after all.
Her skin burned at the memory, and she fought the rising blush.
