Page 103 of Aurelia

When they reached the pier, Aurelia saw that his lordship’s personal skiff was ready and waiting.

Not until the earl was rowing toward Nesta’s Perch did he speak again. “Why do you look so serious?” he asked, lazily but steadily pulling the oars, the action emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders.

“Perhaps that is just my face, my lord.”

“No, it is an even more serious expression than usual. But then you are an extremely serious woman.” He cocked his head, his smile secretive. “Too serious, sometimes. It is a lovely day—the sun is shining on the North Atlantic!”

She glanced up at the sky, which was a dull slate gray.

“Oh, very well,” he admitted with a laugh. “You cannot see it shining, but it is there—just behind those clouds.”

“The wind seems a bit brisk.”

“Don’t worry. You are safe in my hands, my dear Aurelia. Look there—a pair of mergansers.”

Aurelia turned and quickly pulled out her sketchbook.

“I won’t drop anchor because I don’t believe they are staying,” he said. “Indeed, it looks as if they are heading back to the island. They have only been taking a romantic swim together.”

Aurelia snorted as she sketched. “Romantic?”

“Yes, romantic. They mate for life you know. See how they are whispering sweet nothings to each other?”

The birds were indeed bill to bill. “Perhaps they are having a row,” she retorted. “She is complaining that it is too cold here, that she wants to go further south. He is offering some pitiful excuse in defense of his laziness at not wanting to fly that far.”

He laughed, shipped the oars, and gracefully slid onto her bench, sitting right behind her. “So cynical for one so young,” he murmured, his chin hovering just over her shoulder to watch her sketch, his proximity rapidly turning her hand into a block of wood.

“You are truly an artist, Aurelia.”

She stopped pretending to draw and turned to face him.

He smiled at her from only inches away. “What? You are looking so fierce, Aurelia.”

“I do not recall ever giving you permission to use my Christian name, sir.”

“I believe you gave me permission that night in the library when you allowed my mouth between your glorious thighs,” he said, reaching up and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

She narrowed her eyes as her neck and face heated. “You enjoy shocking me, don’t you?”

He laughed. “I do enjoy it. You are always beautiful, but with your flags flying you are even more lovely and desirable.”

“Are there really any flame scallops to be seen? Or was that merely a ruse?”

“Are you implying this is all an elaborate attempt at seduction? Now that would be shocking indeed. But as to the flame scallops, I am a naturalist, my dear Miss Burton. I would never lie about something as important as a flame scallop.” He deftly shifted back onto his bench and took up the oars, skillfully aiming the boat toward the far side of Nesta’s Perch. “All this week we will have some of the lowest tides of the year. You will get to see your scallops, fear not. What other bivalves are still on your list?”

Aurelia took her notebook from her satchel, relieved to be on safer ground. She flipped to the right page and studied her list. “If I really do see flame scallops today then all that remains is a fan mussel.”

“Ah, the elusive atrina fragilis.”

“Have you seen one?”

“Yes, but only while diving. You will not see them in tidal pools.”

“What is it like to dive?” she asked.

“Unlike anything else I’ve experienced. It is liberating, exhilarating, and terrifying all at the same time. We are the interlopers and one is constantly aware that one’s surroundings are entirely hostile to humans. One false or careless action and a diver will speedily succumb to the sea’s deadly grasp.

“How long were you able to stay below the surface?”