'You are a deserter?' She almost released his arm. For it was most shocking, and not at all in keeping with the man she was convinced that he was.
'Do you blame me? The law that took me was for trained seamen. It was never meant to drag inexperienced men to sea against their will so that they could lose the King's ration of bread and grog over the side whenever the ship crested a wave. I was a terrible sailor, from the day they took me to the day I ran.' He opened his hands, staring into the palms. 'Look here. See the scars? This is where I lost my grip on the sheets, and the rope near skinned my hands. I could show you the marks of the flogging I got for that, as well. And the places where the sun burned my skin to blisters. It was a hard life, and I was glad to be rid of it.'
'But to run away...' It was so different from what she expected from him that she hardly knew what to think.
'They had no right to take me, and their callous stupidity jeopardized the safety of my family. God only knows what happened to them, without my protection.' He frowned. 'I tell myself that my sisters are most likely married, with families of their own by now. But I know that is probably a lie. And it is a shame. For over the years my fortunes have changed much. If I could but find them, I could support them in luxury and quite make up for the hardship I left them in.'
And knowing the sort of things that might happen to a woman alone, or even through the carelessness of one such as her father, she had to agree. 'You were right to worry, and I can understand your actions in trying to get back to them. But to live under the stigma of desertion cannot be easy. Perhaps if you appealed to the Admiralty, they would give you a proper discharge.'
'Perhaps. My claim is legitimate. But I have, shall we say, a certain lack of faith in the English courts. They have never been a friend to my family. And while the law clearly states that I am in the right, it would be scant comfort to have that as an epitaph, should they decide to execute me for desertion. Once I earned enough money in Boston to pay for a passage home, it seemed easier just to start anew. And mask my identity.'
The pause now was a long one, until he was sure that she understood. 'I am not at all the sort of man you might think me, Miss Price. Not in behaviour. Not even in name.'
Perhaps she did not know him as well as she thought. Yet, when she looked into his eyes, and felt his hand on hers, she was sure she did. 'It does not matter.' She reached out with her other hand, and laid it upon his sleeve, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze that seemed to startle him.
He put his other hand on her shoulder. 'I did not wish for my story to sound like a morbid attempt to garner your sympathy.'
'I did not think you did. But it is a tragic story, all the same. It is all right. Your life has been difficult. You have done the best you could with it. I understand.'
He pulled free of her grasp and slipped his arm around her waist. 'You do not know how much your words mean to me, Miss Price. They are like a balm upon the old wounds. And I had never thought to hear them from your lips.' And with that, he pulled her close and kissed her.
The moment seemed to go on forever. But perhaps it was because she closed her eyes and held her breath, as if she could keep very still and hold time in place. She had spent much of the recent years interrupting such attempts by Honoria's suitors and thwarting their few successes. But at some point, years ago, she had quite given up the dream that a moment like this would ever come to her. And now that it had, she felt quite remorseful for depriving Honoria of the joy of it. For to feel the rough of his cheek brushing against hers, and the firm warmth of his hand, his breath upon her face, the softness of his mouth and the barest touch of his tongue against her lips was pure heaven.
And then he pulled his head away from hers, and looked hurriedly around to make sure that they were alone on the path and that none had seen what they had done. He took his hand from her waist, laid a finger under her chin, and said, with a nervous smile, 'I am sorry. I did not intend to take that liberty. But your absolution moved me more than I could resist. Thank you.' He squeezed her hand again, and then released it and stepped back.
She was quite at a loss. For what was she to say in a moment like this? Pretending outrage was quite impossible, but asking him to repeat the action was very wrong as well. And she was sure that her cheeks must be flaming scarlet.
He smiled down at her. 'Miss Price?'
'Mr Dale.' She touched her hand to her bosom, as though she were trying to catch her breath after strenuous exercise.
He tipped his head, waiting for her to clarify her feelings. 'Are you all right, then? Can you forgive me that as well?'
And she struggled again, taking in a huge breath and letting it out in a sigh. Then she smiled at him. 'That was the most miraculous thing, was it not?'
He grinned back at her. 'For you as well?'