Page 64 of A Shore Thing

Relief opened her lungs. She sighed and leaned into James. The air retained its mellow warmth, but the breeze felt cool, and the nightjars were churring in the scattered clusters of trees.

James turned them down one of the little paths that crisscrossed the geometric portion of the garden.

“You’ve been unusually quiet,” he observed.

“Admiring the sunset.”

“Not just now. Back in the dining room.”

She released his arm, veering between ornamental beds toward a stone bench. He lengthened his stride and kept pace.

“It has been a day of surprises.” She hugged herself. “There was a dog, on the ride back to town. A dog very like…”

She didn’t have to say more.

James nodded sympathetically. “What did you do?”

“What I always do, but it was worse, because of the bloody bicycle.”

“You crashed.” He gave her a once-over. “All in one piece?”

She shrugged a shoulder and dropped down onto the bench. A pretty trellis arched above, covered with climbing roses.

“You told Griffith.” James stood, considering her. “About your mother.”

“Griffith told me something.” She bit her nail, a habit she’d broken years ago. The stone bench was cold, and the shadows thickened beneath the trellis, but she squirmed, suddenly itchy and hot. She couldn’t repeat what Griffith had said.

“Ah.” James sat beside her and stretched out his legs. “What’s that?”

She shifted on the bench. “I’d better not.”

“Perhaps I know, then.”

She turned her head sharply. James’s face was carefully composed. Her breath blew out.

Holy God. He knew.

“How? How do you know?”