himself lifted onto an unparallelled earthly paradise!”
She looked to him sharply. He caught the look. “Oh, forgive me. I did forget that you were betrothed.”
“Indeed you did!” She turned quickly away. They worked on in silence again.
Fortunately a cool breeze was, as usual, blowing in off the bay. Nonetheless, it was hot work and heavy for a girl, James thought. But the more he worked beside her, the more attractive she grew. What would he give to have her working on his own farm?
After a period of silence, Catherine suddenly stopped and faced him. “If you feel that, truly feel that, and you’re not just full of blather like any besotted Irishman —”
“I’m not Irish, I’m British.”
“Whatever you are, if there were any meaning to your words, you would have come back sooner. You would not have stayed away so long.” He saw that the blood was rising into her face and her eyes were beginning to flash. “Have you any idea what last summer was like for me? Expecting you to appear at any moment?”
What was she saying? And with such emotion, it did seem to come right from the heart. Could she really mean that? Could she really have been waiting for him? “I wanted to, Catherine, but —”
“More blather! I thought from our one meeting that I could trust you.” She turned back to stone hunting. “I misjudged you, that’s all. It was my own fault. Don’t feel badly. I have learned my lesson. Well and truly!”
James pondered a reply as they dropped their stones. When she straightened, she looked him straight in the eye. “I think it best you go now. You can check for glue with the cabinetmaker, if you have not already done so. I’m sure he will have some.” Her eyes were flashing. “I can finish this field myself very easily, thank you very much. When I get home, I’ll leave on the porch some material for you, and whatever glue I can find. But please don’t knock.”
“You want me to leave now? Right now?”
“Yes. You disturb me, far too much.” Was she close to tears? “And that, if you must know, is the one thing I most hate to admit.” She turned away, and headed off, stopping to add, “I don’t like men coming around, talking me up, without an honest idea in their heads. Except perhaps one, which all men have, I’m finding out. Just one single thought, all of them, and one I do not relish.”
James took off his hat and wiped his brow. This was far worse than he expected. How could he make it right? A thousand strands of feeling tangled up his brain: How could he explain? He should definitely not tell her the real reason he’d not returned last summer, apart from clearing his land, was that he had been betrothed.
He cast down his eyes, dropped the boulder he was carrying onto the rock pile, and began to walk away. But his last glance at her eyes flashing so angrily under the sweaty hair hanging down under the kerchief made her utterly desirable — now, when she was at her most angry.
He quickened his pace. How else to regain any dignity? How else to show he meant it, but to take off with speed. Had he looked back, he would have seen her shapely form slump, her hands drop the rocks in the middle of the field, and turn away, hands covering her face as emotions welled.
He entered the trees, and paused. Would he ever see her again? Yes, of course, but only from a distance. Would he ever have another time alone with her? Not if she could help it. She did not want him around; he disturbed her too much.
But then again, no time like the present. Here and now, he faced his last, and only, chance to confront her. He could not let it go. He turned.
He saw her stoop and pick up the stones she had dropped and walk heavily over to the pile, where she let them fall once again, oblivious of him, of everything, even of the stones themselves.
He stepped out from the trees and covered the ground quickly toward her, holding up one hand to stop her speaking.
“Catherine,” he said
She looked to him sharply. He caught the look. “Oh, forgive me. I did forget that you were betrothed.”
“Indeed you did!” She turned quickly away. They worked on in silence again.
Fortunately a cool breeze was, as usual, blowing in off the bay. Nonetheless, it was hot work and heavy for a girl, James thought. But the more he worked beside her, the more attractive she grew. What would he give to have her working on his own farm?
After a period of silence, Catherine suddenly stopped and faced him. “If you feel that, truly feel that, and you’re not just full of blather like any besotted Irishman —”
“I’m not Irish, I’m British.”
“Whatever you are, if there were any meaning to your words, you would have come back sooner. You would not have stayed away so long.” He saw that the blood was rising into her face and her eyes were beginning to flash. “Have you any idea what last summer was like for me? Expecting you to appear at any moment?”
What was she saying? And with such emotion, it did seem to come right from the heart. Could she really mean that? Could she really have been waiting for him? “I wanted to, Catherine, but —”
“More blather! I thought from our one meeting that I could trust you.” She turned back to stone hunting. “I misjudged you, that’s all. It was my own fault. Don’t feel badly. I have learned my lesson. Well and truly!”
James pondered a reply as they dropped their stones. When she straightened, she looked him straight in the eye. “I think it best you go now. You can check for glue with the cabinetmaker, if you have not already done so. I’m sure he will have some.” Her eyes were flashing. “I can finish this field myself very easily, thank you very much. When I get home, I’ll leave on the porch some material for you, and whatever glue I can find. But please don’t knock.”
“You want me to leave now? Right now?”
“Yes. You disturb me, far too much.” Was she close to tears? “And that, if you must know, is the one thing I most hate to admit.” She turned away, and headed off, stopping to add, “I don’t like men coming around, talking me up, without an honest idea in their heads. Except perhaps one, which all men have, I’m finding out. Just one single thought, all of them, and one I do not relish.”
James took off his hat and wiped his brow. This was far worse than he expected. How could he make it right? A thousand strands of feeling tangled up his brain: How could he explain? He should definitely not tell her the real reason he’d not returned last summer, apart from clearing his land, was that he had been betrothed.
He cast down his eyes, dropped the boulder he was carrying onto the rock pile, and began to walk away. But his last glance at her eyes flashing so angrily under the sweaty hair hanging down under the kerchief made her utterly desirable — now, when she was at her most angry.
He quickened his pace. How else to regain any dignity? How else to show he meant it, but to take off with speed. Had he looked back, he would have seen her shapely form slump, her hands drop the rocks in the middle of the field, and turn away, hands covering her face as emotions welled.
He entered the trees, and paused. Would he ever see her again? Yes, of course, but only from a distance. Would he ever have another time alone with her? Not if she could help it. She did not want him around; he disturbed her too much.
But then again, no time like the present. Here and now, he faced his last, and only, chance to confront her. He could not let it go. He turned.
He saw her stoop and pick up the stones she had dropped and walk heavily over to the pile, where she let them fall once again, oblivious of him, of everything, even of the stones themselves.
He stepped out from the trees and covered the ground quickly toward her, holding up one hand to stop her speaking.
“Catherine,” he said
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