Page 71 of Counting on a Countess
He blinked at her. “Ah. Yes. Well, I’ve engaged Mr. Singh’sboatto sail us on the Thames today.”
“But... why?”
“You’re a Cornishwoman,” Kit explained. “From a seaside village. But you haven’t been home for some time. I imagine you must be eager to escape crowded, noisy London and get out on the water. So,” he finished, “here we are.”
He fell abruptly silent, his expectant gaze fixed intently on her face.
It suddenly made sense. Kit’s reserve and silence on the ride here. His refusal to tell her anything about their destination. Even his tenseness now.
He was anxious. He feared her response.
Because he wasn’t planning to have her arrested or run her out of town. He’d arranged a special outing for her, to make her happy.
Her heart expanded, filling her chest. Inundated with emotion, she felt like laughing and weeping at the same time. Not since she’d lost her parents had anyone done something so thoughtful for her. No one had believed she was worth the effort. Yet Kit did.
The hard armor she’d carefully used to shield her from tender, vulnerable feelings fell away. He understood her. He cared.
It was the most precious gift she could have ever received.
“I can’t think of a better way to spend the day,” she said, and smiled. She squeezed his hand. “Thank you so much.”
His tight, high shoulders visibly relaxed, and he grinned. “It pleases you?”
“Very much.” Everything about him pleased her, most of all his innate kindness. He had been a soldier and seen untold horrors, and yet he hadn’t lost his humanity or ability to give of himself.
He exhaled. “Thank God.” Weaving their fingers together, he led her toward the waiting boat. “It’s going to be a splendid excursion. Nothing has been left to chance.”
Her throat tightened and her eyes became hot. The stiffness in her limbs ebbed away as her fear receded. He’d gone to so much trouble on her behalf. Each day, he’d worked so hard to make her happy. Today was no exception. He’d been generous and thoughtful and truly seemed to care about her. Her heart had responded, warming and opening to him.
At that moment, holding his hand, she felt herself falling, falling headlong into feelings that would not be held back.
Kit fought to master his pleasure at seeing the happiness on his wife’s face, but it was a losing battle. The last time he’d experienced this euphoria had been... Damn. He couldn’t remember. It was as though his life had been divided into two distinct parts: before Tamsyn and after. The time before had been shrouded in fog and shadow, and the time after was luminosity and contentment.
He wanted to gift her the world—mansions and gowns and the stars themselves, if only to see the happiness in her eyes.
You haven’t given her everything yet.
That would come later. All he had to concern himself with now was sailing and Tamsyn’s enjoyment of it.
They approached the dock, and Mr. Singh climbed nimbly out of the boat.
“Everything is nearly ready, my lord,” the lascar said after bowing. His wife bobbed a curtsy and glanced at the basket in her arms. “Mrs. Singh has prepared a fine luncheon to enjoy while you are on the water.”
Tamsyn accepted the basket with a smile. “Can I help make ready the boat?”
“There is nothing for you to do, Lady Blakemere, except enjoy yourself,” Mr. Singh answered. “This way, if you please.” He waved them toward the waiting vessel.
Stepping into a rocking boat was not an easy task, but Mr. Singh helped both Kit and Tamsyn in. Cushions lay on the benches that skimmed along the interior edges. Tamsyn sat on one side, setting the basket down on the floor, and Kit carefully lowered himself down beside her.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” she murmured to him as Mr. Singh performed a number of mysterious tasks to get the boat ready. “A dinghy this size... we’ll be switching sides to keep from heeling.”
“What’s that?”
“Tipping over.” She glanced at a flag flying from the top of a boathouse roof. “There’s some wind today but it oughtn’t require too much tacking. That means turning the boat through the wind so it changes from one side of the vessel to the other,” she explained. “The boom will move from side to side, so we should be prepared to duck.”
“Here I’d brought you for a pleasure cruise, but I’d no idea you were so conversant with the technical aspects of seafaring.” He felt a throb of pride at the depth of her knowledge.
“My father kept a boat.”
