Never Fall for Your Fiancee

“Excellent…”

Hugh did his best to be the perfect host for the next few hours, and to her credit Minerva also carried on as if nothing had happened, but the atmosphere their peculiar moment had created hung in the air regardless. He spent most of their luncheon pondering whether or not he should broach the subject, and once he decided he would, he spent the next hour procrastinating about how best to bring it up. Before he bit the bullet, they caught the first glimpse of the ocean on the horizon. Not that he paid much attention to it, he was too busy watching her face, trying to enjoy the look of awe she had as the vast expanse of water came closer into view. He couldn’t spoil that by bringing up what Minerva would call the Great Unsaid—even if his foolish heart wanted him to say it.

“I can hear it!” Unsurprisingly, being almost December, the brisk sea breeze was doing its best to whip the water. Wave after wave formed way offshore and rolled to crash on the shingle beach before them, sending torrents of foam between the pebbles, which quickly receded. “It sounds exactly like the sound you hear when you put a shell against your ear. I never believed that before.… But it’s true.”

She didn’t wait for him to help her down as he brought the curricle to a stop. Instead, she hopped down and rushed to the beach.

The wind plastered her skirts to her legs. She had to hold on to her bonnet with one hand, yet long tendrils of dark hair escaped unbidden as she ran, enthralled by the view. Then she turned to him, laughing, the very picture of absolute joy, and he found himself caught up in it, smiling back, and his odd mood lifted.

“Come on, Hugh! You promised me a walk on the beach. And there is so much of it!”

There was probably a worn path somewhere, but she was too impatient to find it, so he helped her scramble down the bank and, still holding her hand, led her as close as he dared to where the water met the shore without risking a stray wave filling their boots. “This is wonderful, Hugh! Thank you for bringing me.”

“Another splendid thing for you to paint one day.”

“I doubt I could do it justice … all the colors … all the movement.”

“They say the moon controls the tides.”

“They do?” She stared up at the sky in wonder, not that any sign of the moon was visible. “How on earth does it do that from so far away?”

“Something to do with gravity, or so I’ve read. I can’t say I understand it all, really.”

“Some things aren’t meant to be understood, they just are. That is enough.”

“Very philosophical.”

She bent to scratch a flat white shell out of the wet sand, but turned her face to grin at him. “It’s clearly the day for it. And what a lovely day it has been—embracing what-ifs and not understanding the things that just are.” Hugh merely nodded, a little thrown that her statement seemed to sum up everything he was feeling. He held out his arm and she took it, making everything instantly right again, and they wandered the entire length of the beach. Minerva collected shells, examined seaweed, watched the gulls glide overhead, took in everything, and shared it with him with an almost childlike delight. When the wind stole her bonnet, and sent it rolling along the beach, she chased it, laughing, causing more unwelcome pangs of need and longing, more regrets.