Page 88 of The Sea Witch
A bray came from a donkey pulling a cart full of kegs. The noise pierced the bubble of intimacy surrounding them. She stepped back, and he did the same, nearly tripping over an empty crate in his haste to put distance between them.
“The church,” he said gruffly.
“The parish records,” she said at the same time.
He moved toward the street, then stopped to hold his arm out to her.
She stared at it with a puzzled frown. “My feet work just fine.”
“Any man in love would offer his woman his arm when walking with her,” he explained.
She continued to study his proffered arm, as if it contained a hidden danger. “I, uh, don’t have experience with it.”
Now it was his turn to stare at her. “You’ve been married.”
“Samuel liked it better when I walked behind him.”
A low curse escaped Ben.
“But you’re an expert in wooing,” she said quickly.
“There was a girl I courted.Triedto court, in Havana. Beatriz,a chandler’s daughter. I had such plans, you know. Romantic notions of us on the water, and she’d be dazzled by my seamanship. In truth, Beatriz wasn’t much impressed with a warrant officer, and refused to go out on a cutter I’d hired for the day.”
“So, we’re both new to it.”
“Today, we’ll both have the full sweetheart experience.”
With an encouraging look as much for himself as her, he offered his arm once more.
Slowly, cautiously, she took it. Her fingers rested lightly on his sleeve, and his body tightened from even this slight pressure.
“The hell with this timidity,” she muttered.
Her grip tightened around his arm, and they both sucked in a breath at the feel of her holding him firmly.
“Damn, Sailing Master,” she exclaimed, squeezing his forearm. “Another surprise. You’re hard as marble.”
Did his disguised cheeks turn as red as they felt? “Time to get this mission underway.”
“I’m going to be struck by lightning,” Alys said under her breath as they crossed the threshold of All Saints into the narthex. A sudden quiet descended as the heavy carved door shut behind them, the clatter of traffic and human voices fading. The vestibule smelled of cool stone and herb-scented linen.
“God is very busy,” Ben answered. “He surely has other concerns besides smiting a few sinners in a corner of the Caribbean.”
“Except one sinner’s a witch, and I’ve been told with great authority that such a person isn’t welcome.”
“Opinions founded on ignorance. I didn’t know much of witches, not so long ago. You might be the first witch I ever talked to.” Certainly, she was the first witch he’d ever touched. Ever kissed.
“And now you’d set a place for me at your table?” She shot him a dry look.
Inside, the church was bright, lit by windows lining the nave.Rows of oak pews faced the pulpit and altar, and the chancel was decorated by carved wooden arches. Light shone through a stained glass window depicting the Annunciation, more evidence of the wealth of the church’s benefactors.
Ben moved to the font to dip his fingers in the holy water before crossing himself.
“This place isn’t safe for me,” Alys muttered, pulling away from him.
“Good afternoon, sir and miss.” An elderly man in a clerical collar approached them. “I am Reverend Gardiner. How may I be of assistance?”
Alys went to Ben and wove her fingers with his.
