Clarissa set off after the headmaster and soon there were children running around her, vying for her attention. But she turned her head to look back, just before she reached the door, and he saw her smile. Just a small smile, but it was there.
With a grin of his own, Alistair McKay strode back the way he had come, back to his lonely cottage and pleasant thoughts of Miss Clarissa Debenham.
CHAPTER THREE
The Cobb was a stone breakwater that had been first built hundreds of years earlier. It was vital for Lyme’s harbour and to protect the town from storms. When the sea was rough sometimes the waves would wash right over the top of it and there had been some tragic drownings over the years.
Today the sun was shining and the sea was smooth and Clarissa hurried down to meet Alistair McKay, her heart thumping, not quite knowing why she was doing this.
Was it because she knew she was going against her father’s wishes? Well she would be, if he knew. Or was it because Mr. Marly had seemed to look at her with new interest after Alistair McKay walked with her to school? Probably
a little of both. Clarissa rarely asserted herself. She was eighteen and nearly always did as she was told. Doing what she wanted to do instead felt very liberating.
Alistair McKay was standing by the Cobb, the sharp breeze tugging at his dark hair. He wasn’t wearing his naval uniform today but brown trousers and a green jacket, with his white cravat tied loosely about his tanned throat. He looked big and strong and Clarissa had the oddest sensation when she looked at him, as if she wanted to throw herself into his arms and burrow in.
No, not burrow in, that would be cowardly or the actions of one of those weak females Clarissa was determined never to be. No, she wanted to be held by him, his hard body against her softer one, his smiling mouth dipping to cover hers . . .
“Stop it,” she murmured to herself, knowing she was flushed now. “That is just silly.”
But today, just for a moment, she wanted to be silly. She wanted to enjoy herself and forget the weight constantly upon her young shoulders. She wanted to be with Alistair McKay.
He had seen her. “Miss Debenham,” he said, with a bow, and his dark eyes were alight.
She looked up at him. She’d forgotten how tall he was. How on earth did he walk about below decks in his ship without bumping his head? She opened her mouth to ask him and then changed her mind. He’d think her rude, or worse ignorant.
“Shall we walk along the wall?” he asked, holding out his arm.
With a smile she took it and they set off. The breeze wasn’t overly strong but it tugged at her skirts and her bonnet, so that she had to put her hand up to hold it on. Out to sea there were small fishing boats, all surrounded by flocks of seagulls hoping for scraps.
“Do you expect to return to your ship soon?” she asked.
A couple were coming toward them and she recognised them and nodded, smiling, aware of the rampant curiosity in their eyes. That was the trouble when you lived in a small place, everyone knew your business. It had never bothered Clarissa before but suddenly she wanted Alistair to be her own secret, and not a subject for gossip.
“Not yet. Not immediately, anyway,” he said comfortably. “I considered going to London for a week or two, to see the sights, but now I think I will stay here in the cottage.”
He let his eyes rest on her a moment, and she wondered if he meant that she was the reason he was staying. She’d opened her mouth to ask him, even though she knew she should not, when her bonnet was caught by a sudden gust of wind. Clarissa cried out, snatching at it, but the ribbons had pulled free and it was off. It began to bowl along the Cobb. Moving quickly Alistair stepped on it, to stop it. When he bent to retrieve it she could already see that the straw was broken.
“Miss Debenham, my apologies,” he said, with a grimace. “You must let me replace it.”
Clarissa shook her head and laughed and suddenly her fears and worries left her. “It was a very ugly bonnet,” she admitted, pulling a face at the misshapen thing. “I never liked it.”
He stared at her a moment and then he threw the bonnet up into the wind; they both watched it sail away and land in the sea.
He turned to face her and his fingers brushed her cold cheek. “That’s better,” he said.
After that it seemed easier to talk and they spoke about many things, finding much that they agreed on and some that they didn’t.
The hours flew past and Clarissa’s cheeks ached from smiling so much. By the time they parted she knew she was in danger of falling in love with this man who had come so suddenly into her life. Would that, she wondered, be a good thing?
And she had asked him to afternoon tea at her home to meet her father. Already she was shaky at the thought because she knew that her father could be difficult. But she wanted them to meet; people had seen her with a stranger and word would get back to her father sooner or later. In this town, sooner was far more likely, so she must introduce them before one of the neighbours told him of his daughter’s scandalous activities. She wanted her father to know Alistair was her friend and, whatever restrictions her father might place upon her, that she intended to see more of him.
***
Alistair walked back to his cottage. He was in high spirits from the time he’d spent with Clarissa, remembering her smiles and laughter and her shining blue eyes. Had he thought her not beautiful? He must have been mad. She was a glorious girl. Had he thought her not his type? Well, obviously his type had changed!
He stepped inside, into the quiet of the cottage, and his mood sobered.
Clarissa was a lovely girl, but she was rather lonely and certainly inexperienced when it came to men. He would be ungentlemanly indeed if he allowed her to fall in love with him. Not that he was a vain man, far from it, but Clarissa led a very sheltered life and, he supposed, he must seem to lead a far more exciting one. Such a young girl might easily be swept up in the romantic notion of a man who spent his life at sea, and Alistair was well aware it would end in heartbreak for her.