Evie started to laugh. “You are astonishing, Mackenzie.”
“Just don’t drown me, McKnight.”
Evie, unable to stop smiling, freed the oars and laid them on the pier. She set the near oar in its lock and balanced the second across the scull before she climbed down into the seat, surprised how easily she did it. She fit the second oar as she sat, then the far oar of the other pair.
“Easy,” she said as Jamie began to descend gingerly toward her. “Don’t capsize us.”
Jamie stepped in, sitting down hard as the boat moved under his weight. Evie had taken the seat in the rear, and he now crouched in front of her, the length of his strong back within reach.
“I go out in boats on Scottish lochs,” Jamie said. “Not an easy task, I tell you. I row myself and whatever cousin wants to come along—or my dad—and fish.”
“A rowboat is not the same as a racing scull,” Evie instructed him calmly. She slid his second oar into its slot then untied the scull and pushed them from the pier, angling so they drifted backward into the current instead of straight sideways.
Astonishing how the technique returned to her. The oars felt right in Evie’s hands, and she took an experimental stroke. The scull skimmed along obediently, in a smart line.
“We’ll have to pull exactly together,” she informed Jamie. “Or we’ll be all over the place. Ready?”
“Indeed, I am, ma’am.”
“Very well then—stroke!”
Their first attempt had Evie laughing as the scull wavered and spun. Jamie cursed but after a little practice, he caught on how to glide the oars across the water instead of digging them in too far. The two eventually found a rhythm that began to propel them upstream.
Jamie’s arms worked, his back coming at her as they leaned into each stroke and reached for the next one. Evie could tell he’d never rowed anything like a light scull before, but he learned quickly. He did blunder when Evie tried to turn them, lifting and splashing his oars down at the wrong moment.
Evie gave him some pointers, then called instructions to him, the commands easily rolling from her tongue. She’d guided her team in her heady salad days, commanding with her shouts as they’d rowed their way to victory.
She and Jamie zigzagged along the river, Evie yelping when Jamie deliberately splashed her. His laughter rang out over the water as she retaliated.
It was a beautiful day, the sky arching its rich blue above them, the river quiet except for their voices, laughter, and the soft tap of the oars.
The scull moved well, Jamie and Evie learning to pull in exact cadence. Evie recalled how the world had gone away when she and her friends had flown along the river, its banks a green blur.
The experience was even better with Jamie, the pair of them stretching and bending, arms moving in unison. His strength lent speed to the craft, while her skill steered them with precision.
At last Jamie shipped his oars, holding them a few inches above the water. “Whew. That’s enough for me.” He turned and peered past her. “How far are we from the pier?”
“Probably half a mile. And it’s downstream.” She pointed the other direction.
“’Struth. More rowing then.”
“It’s heaven.”
Evie could not calm her elation. How had Jamie known that this was exactly what she needed? To propel herself across the water, to laugh in the freedom?
“Why would you give me such a gift?” she asked him.
“Eh?” Jamie swiveled to peer at her, which tilted the scull too far. Evie quickly righted them. “Why not? Men shower the women they love with jewels, but I thought you’d like this better.”
Evie abruptly shoved herself forward in her seat and kissed the cheek that turned to her. “Thank you, Jamie. I can’t accept it, of course.”
“Rubbish.” Jamie scowled. “I’ll carry it on my back and drop it on your doorstep, if I have to. You won’t be able to refuse it then.”
Evie rested her chin on his shoulder. It was so natural to touch him, to lean on him. “My mother will say it is not appropriate.”
“We’ll think of a story to placate her.” Jamie turned his head and kissed the bridge of her nose. “You are taking this thing home, love. I have no use for it. That is, I’ll have it shipped to you. I doubt my dad would be happy if we tried to shove a rowboat into the train car.”
Evie straightened, her heart singing. Her mother’s objections were an obstacle she would overcome. “You show a talent for rowing—once you caught on, anyway.”
“Because this is a calm, placid river. It’s easy to pretend I have the knack. If we took this on a choppy loch in the freezing wind, I’d be overboard.”
Evie laughed, because today, everything was worth laughing at.
They resumed their journey to the pier, Evie easing the scull to the end of the dock. Jamie threw a line around a ring and tied them up, then tried to gallantly leap to the pier and hand Evie out.
He nearly fell in, windmilling his arms until he regained his balance and leapt quickly onto the dock. He turned around, scowling down at Evie as she burst out laughing.
“Amused, are ye?”
She nodded, holding her sides.
Jamie made growling noises but took up the oars that Evie handed him once she ceased laughing, she easily keeping the boat still.
Evie accepted the hand he extended to help her from the scull. She stepped lightly to the pier, trying not to be awed at his strength, before they lashed the oars to the boat and headed for the path. Somehow, her fingers were entwined with Jamie’s.
“Well, Mackenzie,” Evie said to hide her sudden agitation. “Did you enjoy your sail with Captain Bly?”
Jamie peered at her quizzically. “You were nowhere near Captain Bly, love. You’re competent, and you know how to command.”
“Aw.” Evie bumped him with her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a better compliment.”
“Then your life has been hollow, my love. Now, let’s see if I can make you even happier. Ah, here it is.”
It was a large basket tucked beside a warm boulder. Jamie had arranged a picnic too, it seemed. Evie imagined the devoted Curry slipping out here when they were on the river, and leaving the basket for them, along with a thick blanket.
Jamie carried basket and blanket over a stile separating fields, and into a meadow that sloped to the river. Under the gentle sunshine, he spread out the blanket and opened the basket, revealing a stack of wrapped sandwiches, scones, cakes, a bottle of wine and glasses, and a flask of tea with cups.
“I love ingenuity,” Jamie said as they seated themselves, and he poured steaming tea. “A genius learns to make a vacuum flask, and mere mortals can enjoy a hot cup of tea in the middle of a field without building a fire.”
Evie accepted her cup and clicked it against his. “Very thoughtful of you.”
Jamie liked gadgets, she realized—the battery torch, a vacuum flask, the motorcars. He dressed and spoke like an old-fashioned and romanticized Scot, but he embraced the modern world with all his heart.
They ate a very good lunch, washed down with more tea and a strong, bold wine. After packing up the remains, they lay together on the blanket, Evie’s head on Jamie’s shoulder, and watched the clouds slide by.