A Bride for the Prizefighter - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,114
and you’re not familiar with the terrain. Then there’s the tides,” he added. “You can easily get trapped when it comes in fast.”
“Well, you could always come with me,” she pointed out, turning on her heel and walking back up the path. “If you’re that worried.”
When she drew level to him, he reached out and caught her wrist, drawing her toward him.
“Evening is better,” he said. “Come, take off your apron and we’ll go now.”
“Now?” She felt a spurt of excitement.
He nodded. “It’s after six.”
“You’re free now?”
“For an hour,” he agreed. “Before the drinkers start pitching up.”
She struggled with her apron strings before he could change his mind. Something about her haste seemed to amuse him, for he laughed and span her round to help.
“I can take it in—” she objected, but it was too late for he had balled it up and cast it over the wall.
“We’ll collect it on the way back,” he said, taking a firm hold of her hand.
“I do not have my bonnet,” Mina murmured, though she did not think she would miss it so very much.
The wind whipped Mina’s hair about her face as they approached the cliffs. In the yard, the sun had felt warm, but the breeze was stiffer the closer they came to the sea and Mina almost wished for her cloak. Once they started down the cliff path however, the rocks sheltered them, and she soon started to warm up again. Nye went before her and she was glad to put a steadying hand to his shoulder for parts of the path were very steep and not easy to negotiate.
They paused at the halfway point and Mina caught her breath when she beheld the blue waters, dazzling against the pale sands in the cove beach.
“I think this must be the most beautiful place I have ever been,” she murmured. Nye stood silent beside her gazing out, but she felt it was a companionable silence and groped for his hand again. He took hers in his own and squeezed it.
“The private beach with Vance House,” he said. “Has a prettier view than this.”
“I can’t imagine one prettier.”
He shook his head. “You’ll see.”
“We should have bought a picnic,” Mina mused.
“Next time,” said Nye and Mina felt herself warm again, from the inside out this time. It took them a further ten minutes to reach the bottom and she was glad to walk along the flat beach for the balls of her feet ached from their climb down. Heeled ankle boots were not the most suitable for cliff walking, and privately she acknowledged that navigating the path by herself would not have been sensible.
Glancing back at the crescent shape of the cliffs behind her, she could readily imagine that you could easily get caught out by the tide and would face a desperate climb to escape it coming in. She shuddered and Nye passed his arm about her waist.
“Cold?”
“No, just thinking,” she said, her answer almost drowned out by the screech of the gulls.
“We can walk right the way around to the village at low tide,” Nye told her, pointing into the distance.
“It is low tide now?”
He nodded. “We could walk back up through the village, though it’s a steady climb.”
“I’m familiar with it,” Mina reminded him. “I walk it every Sunday for church.”
He nodded. “So, you do.”
The decision made to walk along the shore into the village, they picked up their pace. Mina gazed out to sea at the boats she could see bobbing in the water.
“What would they be fishing for?” she asked.
“Pilchards likely as not.” She pulled a face. “You have no liking for the humble pilchard?”
“It is not my favorite,” she admitted. “I do not think I’ve had them above twice in my life.”
“You’ve had it more than that since you’ve lived here,” he said. “In Edna’s fish stew. We keep a barrelful in salt in the pantry.”
Mina shrugged. “Edna’s fish stew is tolerable but not a dish I’d choose to eat.”
He grinned. “Maybe I should tell her to bake you a Stargazy pie.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ve not heard of a Cornish Stargazy pie?”
“You’re teasing me,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
He shook his head. “I cannot believe you’ve not heard tell of it. It’s baked pilchards with egg and potato in a pastry pie.”
“It sounds foul,” Mina said, frankly.
“It’s a local delicacy,” he corrected her.
“Why is it called Stargazy?”
“Ah, because the pilchards heads are arranged to peer up through the pie crust towards the stars.”