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James couldn’t help it, he grinned. “You’re not always wrong.”
“Neither of you is willing to win at any cost, however. David could have tried to turn the public accusations against you after the fire to his advantage. You know what he did instead, and it wasn’t only due to my influence. He’s an ethical man. As you are, or else you wouldn’t have paid him that visit to thank him.”
James shifted on the blanket, uneasy with both the comparison to Chadbourne and her praise. He knew what Reverend Robertson would have said on the subject of his honor, even if he couldn’t object to her specific points.
Still, it felt damned good when Clara looked at him as if he was a good man—hewantedto be good, and he wanted her to see him that way.
“If David disowns me, I’m not just afraid for my own sake. If he loses me, he’ll be alone. That’s not my wish for him.”
“I know it’s not,” said James softly, stroking her cheekbone. “I hope it doesn’t come to that. Losing you isn’t a harm I want to inflict on him. Sometimes I believe that if I were a better man, less selfish, I’d have let you go. But I’m not that man. It’s the three of us now, too; not just the two of us.”
She smiled when he caressed her abdomen through her pretty skirts.
“I have no doubts about us, James. We’ll leave for Scotland and be married soon. But yes, of course I feel guilty. David is off dealing with the mine disaster, and he’ll return to a shock.”
James had nothing but empty promises to voice—but he could hold her, and so he did.
“I know we’ll live in London,” said Clara, sounding serious still. “But whether it’s here, or one of our own properties, I want our child to know the scent of tall grass. Jumping through it. Looking up at the sky through it.”
He lifted up on an elbow. “We’ll make sure of it. Did you love the grass?”
She nodded. “For a few summers, Papa called me Grasshopper.”
“Come, Grasshopper. Will you join me in the grass over there?”
Her eyes widened. “Now?”
“Now.”
Laughing, she led him to a spot in the sun, and sank down. He joined her, and following her example, inhaled slowly and deeply.
“It’s as sweet as honey, and fresh as dew, that scent,” he marveled.
“Isn’t it glorious?”
You are, he thought, watching her remove her peach-colored bonnet.
“For only a minute,” she said to herself, looking contrite.
He took the bonnet from her and tossed it deeper into the grass. “For as long as you wish—that’show long you’ll be without it.”
“The sun…” she sputtered.
He rolled onto his back. “Grasshoppers don’t wear bonnets. Will you look up at the sky through the grass with me?”
Her sigh began on an exasperated note but turned languid as she reclined. Her hand searched for his in the grass. For several minutes, they lay hand-in-hand at the edge of the meadow.
Peace settled over James in a way he’d never known before. He watched with half-closed eyes as puffy white clouds floated slowly past. A dreamy smile overtook his lips when Clara settled against him, laying her head on his chest.
“Were you a grasshopper as a boy?”
He couldn’t remember a time that he’d lain in the grass before today. “No.”
“What smells do you remember? Dundee’s a port, is it not?”
“Aye. And I do remember the salt-tinged breeze. But Brighton it wasn’t. It was a working port. The city was filthy.”
“You worked in a linen mill? With flax?” Clara asked, and he made an affirmative sound. “What did the flax smell like?”
