She shook her head but did not argue as they made their way up the beach. She had expected him to drop her hand as soon as they stepped off the beach and onto the track that led to the road, but he pulled her arm through his instead. Several fishermen were sat on barrels with lobster pots and Nye nodded as they gazed at them with open curiosity, their pipes bobbing in their mouths as they wished them a good evening.
“Do any of the fishermen frequent The Merry Harlot?” Mina asked. Nye shook his head. “I seem to remember Edna told me they frequent The Ship instead.”
Nye nodded in the direction of a black and white inn on the seafront. “That’s it there.”
Mina looked at the rather shabby little whitewashed inn. “It’s not as grand as The Harlot,” she said critically. “It’s a shame we cannot poach some of their staff.”
He smiled at that and Mina eyed him curiously, thinking she had never seen him so agreeable. “Your knuckles look split and sore,” she observed. “Do they still hurt?”
He gave a small shake of his head. “Nothing to signify.” They were climbing the bank now up away from the village.
“You cannot have had long to recover this time between your fights this time,” she observed. “When we get back, I will bathe your cut eye in saltwater.”
He grunted. “Don’t fuss. I’m used to taking care of such things.” Then he shook his head.
“What?”
He looked rueful. “You did not even ask me who won my match.”
With surprise, Mina realized this was true. “I suppose I took it for granted that you did,” she admitted with some embarrassment.
Nye laughed at that. “Touching you have that much faith in me.” Catching her suddenly troubled expression, he asked, “What is it?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she replied evasively. “Just something Lady Faris said.”
Nye eyed her warily. “Oh yes?” he prompted. “And what was that?”
Mina hesitated, for the confidence she had felt only that morning when repudiating Lady Faris’s claims had faded, since she had noticed a loophole. “She seemed to think I must have very lax views about marriage,” she answered.
“Why?” he asked pointedly.
“Because she could not believe that you would tolerate anything else in a wife.”
He came to an abrupt halt in the road, pulling Mina to a stop also. “I thought we had already cleared this up this morning.”
“You said you were not interested in any married women save for your own,” Mina reiterated.
“So where does the confusion lie?”
She gazed over his shoulder. “You did not mention unmarried women.”
He gave a startled laugh. “Are you serious, Mina?” he asked, pulling her into his arms. He rested his chin on the top of her head. “You need have no worries on that score.”
“Are you sure?” she blurted, staring at the tanned skin that showed between his collarless shirt and necktie. “I saw how those women clamored around the fighters this past two days.”
“Aye, but did you see me paying any heed to them?” he answered lightly.
“I did not see much of you at all,” she mumbled.
One hand removed from her waist to tilt up her chin. “You do not need to trouble yourself about any women, wed or unwed,” he reiterated, his gaze capturing hers. “And my own marital views are far from lax. You might have noticed when I bawled everyone out in the bar, staking my claim? If you did not, then everyone else was sure to mark it, I promise you.”
Mina’s face reddened. “Well, yes,” she agreed evasively. “But sometimes gentlemen expect fidelity from their wives without the expectation of reciprocating.”
“Not me,” he retorted promptly.
Her eyes sought his and whatever she saw in his dark gaze reassured her. She gave a short nod. “Very well then,” she said. “Thank you for the clarification.” She went to pull away, but his grip on her did not slacken. “Nye?” she said consciously. “We are standing in a common highway.”
“Aye, so we are wife and not one more step will we stir until you give me the kiss I want.”
“Nye!” She felt herself become flustered in an instant. “We are not some… courting couple!”
He looked amused. “Nay, for we skipped that stage,” he agreed. “So, let us make amends for that now.” He cocked his head to one side, looking suddenly thoughtful. “We’ll walk out together like we did tonight and keep company of an evening at least twice a week.”
“Keep company?” she echoed, trying to imagine Nye sat in the parlor with her in his fancy suit of an evening. Even twice a week that was some feat of imagination. What was she supposed to do with him? She could not imagine having him sitting with a book of poetry like her father had used to do or helping her to wind her yarn. “You’d need someone else to cover the taproom,” she pointed out uncertainly.
“Well, according to you, Faris has that matter well in hand,” he reminded her glibly.
She spluttered. “You, however, seemed to place little confidence in his abilities,” she reminded him.
“The longer you stall giving me those pretty lips, the longer we’ll be stood in the middle of the road, at the mercy of passing carts,” Nye pointed out.
Realizing he was not going to let her off the hook with this, Mina took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut, tipping her face up to receive his kiss. He did not immediately take her up on her invitation and for a moment indeed, she thought he would not.
She was just starting to feel foolish when his lips descended on hers, in a kiss such as Will Nye had never bestowed on her before. His lips were soft yet firm against her own, and infinitely sweet as he molded them to her own. After a moment, she felt his hands cup her face almost tenderly and run his thumbs along her cheekbones in what she could only consider to be a caress.
Never in her wildest dreams would she have dreamt that Will Nye would ever touch her thus. When he lifted his face away from hers, he looked almost as surprised by it as she. He stared at her a moment before taking her hand again. “That was the kiss I should have given you atop the carriage that time,” he rasped.
“The carriage?” Mina faltered, feeling her wits had gone a-begging.
“The first time,” he replied abruptly.
Mina remembered the suffocating embrace that had been her first and almost agreed. But if he had kissed her like this back then, she was not sure how she might have reacted. It would have been far too intimate. This kiss, she realized dazedly, was a courting kiss. It was a kiss given to sweethearts.
She traced the part of her lips and reddened. When Nye turned a heated look her way, she could not quite meet his eye. “Have you ever been courting before?” She heard herself ask and wished she had not.
“Courting?” He shook his head.
“You seem rather good at it,” she said, casting him a sidelong look. “As though you might have had some practice.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, love,” he answered with a wink.
“You’ve never had a sweetheart?” she persisted recklessly; her color heightened.