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vulnerable plants. A whippy wind had sprung up, maybe the first hint
of what was to come, and they had some trouble getting the net
secured.
'Thank you.' Blythe removed her hat to smooth damp curls from her
forehead. 'I'm really grateful.'
Jas had picked up his shirt, but held it bundled in his fist, and as she
watched he absently wiped his chest. 'No problem,' he said. 'What
about your house?' He looked up at the cottage, frowning. 'You're
very vulnerable.' Beyond the hill a low, sooty sheet of cloud
threatened the sun.
Blythe wrenched her gaze to his face again. 'I'll be all right.'
A gust of wind came racing down the hill, bending the tops of the
trees, and flipped the hat from Jas's head, sending it spinning into the
air before it fell. He grabbed for it and missed, and then they both
went after it as it scudded away. They reached it at the same time,
their spread hands encountering each other's as they dived forward
and held the brim flat to the ground.
Jas's fingers lay over hers for a second, and their heads were so close
together that when she lifted her eyes she could see the length of his
lashes, and the shape of his mouth, firm and well-defined.
His eyes kindled and his gaze lowered to her own mouth. Her lips
parted on a soft breath.
Then he moved back and his warm fingers left hers. 'It's your hat,' he
said.
Blythe picked up the hat and straightened. 'Are you married?' she
asked baldly.
She thought he almost winced. His eyes darkened and he looked
away, just as the boiling cloud reached out and buried the sun, and a
shiver passed over Blythe.
'I was,' he said.
She probably should never have asked, but in for a penny, in for a
pound. Her heart thumping erratically, she kept her gaze on him until
he looked back at her. 'What happened?'
His voice was harsh when he answered her, his face locked in a mask
that gave nothing away. 'She's dead.'
Oh, God. Blythe swallowed, castigating herself for not taking heed of
his obvious reluctance. 'I'm so sorry,' she said inadequately. 'I really
am sorry. I should never have asked.'
'You were entitled to ask.' It was a tacit acknowledgement that she
hadn't been the only one affected by that momentary physical
closeness. 'I'm not...likely to marry again.'
He said it almost offhandedly, but she knew he was warning her. 'Was
it...is it recent?' she asked him.
'Over a year.'
And clearly he hadn't recovered from it. Maybe he never would. He
must think that he wouldn't, if he'd decided against another marriage.
'You might...change your mind?' she suggested.
She hoped it wasn't compassion that stirred in his eyes then. 'I doubt
it,' he said. 'Most women wouldn't put up with me.'
It was the tired old joke of every unmarried man, and she searched his
face to see if he believed it, but he deflected her gaze with a wry
smile.
Presumably his wife had put up with him all right. Till death us do
part. And death had parted them. His wife couldn't have been very
old, in her twenties probably. It must have been a horrible time for
him, and clearly he had loved her very much. To wish that he hadn't
was a mean, unworthy sentiment.
'Let me give you a meal,' Blythe said. 'After all your help it's the least
I can do.'
'I'm filthy and sweaty. Besides, you must be tired. Another time,
maybe.'
Again the wind gusted down the hillside. The trees rustled and blown
leaves scurried across the garden.
Jas squinted up at the sky. 'Looks like it's on its way. Are you sure
you'll be okay here on your own?'
If he came to dinner he might stay. Blythe stilled the wayward
thought. She wouldn't pretend to be afraid just so she could have his
company, trap him into a situation he didn't want. 'I'm sure. Thanks.'
'Right.' He swung the bunched-up shirt in his hand, looking down at
it. 'I'll come over tomorrow, make sure you're all right.'
'That...would be a friendly thing to do.'
He gave her a brief, jerky smile and strode away. She stood for a
minute staring after him, but he never looked back.
She made herself a quick meal, then put on a jacket and returned to
the garden and tunnel house to check that there was no more she
could do to keep her plants safe.
Her mother phoned, having just heard the storm warning. 'Maybe you
should come to us until it's over.'
'I don't want to leave the place.'
'Well, batten down the hatches and what about your flowers?'
'I heard the warning at lunchtime, so we've been picking all
afternoon. Jas came over.'
'Oh, that was nice of him. I suppose if anything does happen you
could call on Jas for help.'
'I'll be fine,' Blythe reiterated.
Feeling restless and tense, she walked to the beach, even though dusk
was falling and the wind had risen.
The boom and roar of the waves filled her ears. The sea was a mass of
turbulent white-tossed water, and the increasing wind drove gobbets
of foam from the wavetips to send them skimming along the beach.
Blythe shook her wind-tossed hair from her eyes and ran onto the
sand, the salty spray in the air dampening her face, and little
whirlwinds of sand salting her legs.
She stood in the water and allowed the incoming waves to foam about
her ankles, keeping a wary eye out for bigger breakers.
Swathes of brown kelp were already being swished in by the lathering
sea, spreading in long tresses, some sucked back with the receding
waves, others left in wet, glistening heaps on the sand. She dragged
some of them up to the low dunes well beyond the high tide mark.
Tomorrow she would come down and bundle them into sacks. She
had bent to take hold of another hank at the water's edge when Jas's
voice made her jump.
'What the devil are you doing?' he yelled almost in her ear.
'What does it look like?' she shouted back against the thunder of the
waves and the force of the increasing wind. 'Waste not, want not!' Her
hair whipped across her eyes and she pushed it away. Jas's hair was
wind-blown too, and the wind buffeted his nylon jacket.
'You're crazy! Coming down here now '
'So what are you doing here?' She laughed up at him, her face cold
and tingling and her hair flowing into the wind.
'Looking for you. You weren't home, so '
'You came visiting?'
'There were no lights at your place. I thought maybe your generator
had packed up or something.'
It was getting dark. Normally she would have had a light on by now.
Did he watch for it every night? 'I just came down for a walk,' she
explained.
Unseen, a wave was rushing onshore, and Jas shot out a hand and
grabbed her arm, pulling her further up the sand. 'In this?'
'I told you I like storms! It's not a cyclone yet just a bit of wind.'
'Just a howling gale!' he argued loudly.
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