putting their plan into action the following day.
It was not until the canal came into sight again that he remembered his goal of making Sabina fall in love with him, in the hope that she would forgive his deception when she became aware of it, as was inevitable. He had very little time left, yet too much had perhaps already passed.
* * * *
Sabina paced the deck restlessly. It was nearly eleven o’clock. He had said he would come again in the morning. It was almost noon!
She had lain in her narrow cot the night before scarcely able to sleep—or so it had seemed, for she dreamed of James Owen whenever she dropped off to sleep, only to wake herself with the joy of her dreams. She remembered coming up on deck at least once in the night, when the moon was still up and the light on the canal gave the scene a magical quality. The air was sweet and warm, and she slept briefly in a chair on the deck, until something awakened her.
It was darker then, and she felt a distinct sensation of panic, as if some disaster were about to befall her. Would she inadvertently give herself away? Would James despise her when he learned the truth? Should she tell him herself before it was too late? Or was it already?
By morning, however, she had nearly forgotten the trick she had played on James—and on Rose and George, too, for that matter—in pretending not to know who she was. That gave her slight pause, for they were nothing but hospitable towards her, and she much regretted the possibility that they might think badly of her.
Yet she contrived to put her contrition aside, and as the morning wore on could think only of seeing James again. Would he be the same? Would he make her feel as she had when she woke to find him hovering over her in concern the day before? She wanted nothing more at this moment than to prolong that feeling—even to persuade him to return it.
Despite her eagerness, she did not see his approach until he had boarded the boat, for at that moment she was waving to the crew of another narrowboat edging past them on the canal.
“You look as if you belong here, Miranda,” James said beside her.
Startled, she turned laughing eyes at him. “I feel as if I do,” she said. Impulsively, she reached around his broad shoulders to give him a hug, then, suddenly aware of the impropriety of her action, flushed and stepped back.
“I do beg your pardon—”
“Please do not. I am delighted.”
“I mean—that is, I am glad to see you. I feared you would not be able to come.”
“I’m sorry I could not come earlier. Is that Rose’s pinafore?”
She laughed and spread out her skirts. “She let it down for me—not enough, I fear, although one of her larger jackets is precisely the right size. And of course her boots would not fit me, but happily mine have dried and not shrunk. Do you like my hat?”
He put his hand on his chin and pretended to study the wide-brimmed straw hat which covered a borrowed mob cap and said, “Very fetching.”
She laughed. “Well, at least it will keep me from getting freckled in the sun.”
“Have you had your nuncheon?” he asked.
“No, Rose wanted to wait for you, and I agreed.”
He took her hand and led her to the corner of the deck where they had taken breakfast the day before. “Sit down. I’ll help Rose with the food.”
Sabina half rose, protesting, “I am much better, truly—let me help.”
“Nonsense. I like to wait on you.”
She blushed again and sat down, but he had not yet let go of her hand, and for a moment longer he held it as he backed slowly away, his eyes never leaving her face.
“I won’t be a moment,” he said, breaking the connection at last. Then he disappeared into the galley.
A short time later, he emerged with a straw hamper covered with a cloth and held it up for her inspection.
“Sustenance. I told Rose we would walk up into the hills to eat it. Are you up to such exertion?”
She smiled. “I think so—if you carry the basket, of
It was not until the canal came into sight again that he remembered his goal of making Sabina fall in love with him, in the hope that she would forgive his deception when she became aware of it, as was inevitable. He had very little time left, yet too much had perhaps already passed.
* * * *
Sabina paced the deck restlessly. It was nearly eleven o’clock. He had said he would come again in the morning. It was almost noon!
She had lain in her narrow cot the night before scarcely able to sleep—or so it had seemed, for she dreamed of James Owen whenever she dropped off to sleep, only to wake herself with the joy of her dreams. She remembered coming up on deck at least once in the night, when the moon was still up and the light on the canal gave the scene a magical quality. The air was sweet and warm, and she slept briefly in a chair on the deck, until something awakened her.
It was darker then, and she felt a distinct sensation of panic, as if some disaster were about to befall her. Would she inadvertently give herself away? Would James despise her when he learned the truth? Should she tell him herself before it was too late? Or was it already?
By morning, however, she had nearly forgotten the trick she had played on James—and on Rose and George, too, for that matter—in pretending not to know who she was. That gave her slight pause, for they were nothing but hospitable towards her, and she much regretted the possibility that they might think badly of her.
Yet she contrived to put her contrition aside, and as the morning wore on could think only of seeing James again. Would he be the same? Would he make her feel as she had when she woke to find him hovering over her in concern the day before? She wanted nothing more at this moment than to prolong that feeling—even to persuade him to return it.
Despite her eagerness, she did not see his approach until he had boarded the boat, for at that moment she was waving to the crew of another narrowboat edging past them on the canal.
“You look as if you belong here, Miranda,” James said beside her.
Startled, she turned laughing eyes at him. “I feel as if I do,” she said. Impulsively, she reached around his broad shoulders to give him a hug, then, suddenly aware of the impropriety of her action, flushed and stepped back.
“I do beg your pardon—”
“Please do not. I am delighted.”
“I mean—that is, I am glad to see you. I feared you would not be able to come.”
“I’m sorry I could not come earlier. Is that Rose’s pinafore?”
She laughed and spread out her skirts. “She let it down for me—not enough, I fear, although one of her larger jackets is precisely the right size. And of course her boots would not fit me, but happily mine have dried and not shrunk. Do you like my hat?”
He put his hand on his chin and pretended to study the wide-brimmed straw hat which covered a borrowed mob cap and said, “Very fetching.”
She laughed. “Well, at least it will keep me from getting freckled in the sun.”
“Have you had your nuncheon?” he asked.
“No, Rose wanted to wait for you, and I agreed.”
He took her hand and led her to the corner of the deck where they had taken breakfast the day before. “Sit down. I’ll help Rose with the food.”
Sabina half rose, protesting, “I am much better, truly—let me help.”
“Nonsense. I like to wait on you.”
She blushed again and sat down, but he had not yet let go of her hand, and for a moment longer he held it as he backed slowly away, his eyes never leaving her face.
“I won’t be a moment,” he said, breaking the connection at last. Then he disappeared into the galley.
A short time later, he emerged with a straw hamper covered with a cloth and held it up for her inspection.
“Sustenance. I told Rose we would walk up into the hills to eat it. Are you up to such exertion?”
She smiled. “I think so—if you carry the basket, of
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