Invitation To A Cornish Christmas. Marguerite Kaye

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      An understatement, Emily thought, though did not say. From what she could gather, the majority had hoped that Captain Penhaligon would never return to claim his inheritance, happy to continue under Jago Bligh’s familiar stewardship. ‘You’re an unknown quantity, and people in these parts don’t welcome change,’ she equivocated. ‘I’ll leave you to your musings.’

      ‘Please don’t. I have leave of absence until the end of the year, and plenty of time to muse. Right now, I’m happy to be distracted, and, if you have no objection, I’d very much like to accompany you on your walk.’ Captain Penhaligon glanced down at her bare feet, smiling quizzically. ‘Or should that be paddle? Unless you have that rare talent, the ability to walk on water?’

      Emily was surprised into a little huff of laughter. ‘When it comes to water, I much prefer to swim.’

      ‘I hope you weren’t planning to swim today? At this time of year, the tides and currents are too strong. It’s dangerous.’

      ‘You needn’t worry, I’m a very strong swimmer and I was raised to respect the sea in all its moods.’

      ‘Round here, people respect the sea by staying out of it.’

      ‘Round here, people believe that if you learn to swim your ship will sink.’

      ‘An old wives’ tale, adopted by mariners the world over.’

      ‘It’s true,’ Emily said. ‘I was born on the Isle of Lewis, in the Outer Hebrides, where the sands are every bit as golden, the surf just as high and the sea itself, not only every bit as wild and beautiful, but even colder than here. Lewis is very like Cornwall, where the people rely on fishing for a living, yet none of the fishermen will learn to swim for fear it will tempt the sea to take them for her own.’

      ‘You don’t share that particular superstition, then?’

      ‘My grandmother taught me to swim. She was an extremely practical woman, who believed you make your own luck.’

      ‘And you take after her?’

      ‘I do think you make your own luck, both good and bad.’

      Captain Penhaligon raised a brow. ‘Now that sounds like the voice of experience talking.’

      How little he knew! But Emily did not want to taint this surprisingly enjoyable conversation with her sordid past. ‘If I am ever unfortunate enough to fall overboard, I shan’t be trusting to luck to throw a helpful wave my way and cast me safely on the shore. Can you swim?’

      ‘I confess I can’t, though you’ve made see that I should learn,’ he answered, looking somewhat shamefaced. ‘Perhaps you will teach me?’

      ‘Not in these winter seas. If you were staying until the summer, it would be another matter entirely. You could join my little class of two pupils.’

      ‘You teach swimming! Here! Who are these rebels?’

      ‘They are the niece and nephew of your estate manager, as a matter of fact, Kensa and Jack Bligh. They spied on me for days before they plucked up the courage to speak to me, and it took me a week before I could persuade them into the water.’

      ‘And what did their parents have to say?’

      ‘They were afraid they’d be told to stay away, so it remained our little secret. The two of them were like seal pups by the end of the summer, diving in and out of the waves, though of course the weather is far too rough for them now—and they are back at school.’

      ‘You sound as if you miss them.’

      ‘Oh, I do. They thought I was a mermaid, when they first saw me.’

      ‘Oh, no, you are far too lovely to be a mermaid. They are ugly creatures, more fish than female, with seaweed for hair and scales all over their bodies.’

      Lovely? He meant in comparison to a fish, Emily told herself sternly! ‘Are you telling me you’ve seen one? Had you been at the ship’s rum ration?’

      ‘No, and no—I never drink on board, but I’ve heard enough tales from my men to believe there’s something in it—as there is with all superstitions, I reckon. There’s a place on the other side of Penzance known as Mermaid’s Rock, where they are said to comb their hair, and sing a siren song to lure sailors to their doom.’

      ‘In Lewis, it is not mermaids but selkies the sailors fear will lure them on to the rocks. Selkies are seals who can take the shape of a beautiful woman on land, and who are said to have certain appetites, according to my grandmother,’ Emily said. ‘I remember wondering what on earth she was talking about. I thought perhaps they liked porridge.’

      Captain Penhaligon gave a bellow of laughter. ‘She was not, then, quite lacking in superstition?’

      ‘Oh, selkies are no myth. Ask any Lewisman or woman.’

      ‘A seal who can take the shape of a beautiful woman,’ Captain Penhaligon mused. ‘I wonder if that’s what your pupils saw, a selkie looking to beguile a sailor?’

      Emily chuckled. ‘You will never know, their victims never do know, until it’s too late.’

      ‘I’m a sailor. Are you warning me off, Miss Faulkner? You don’t look the siren type.’

      ‘Ah, but that’s why I’m so dangerous.’

      ‘You are certainly intriguing. I am very glad that I decided to take a walk this morning. Not that we’ve done much walking yet. Or even paddling.’

      Emily looked at the incoming tide in surprise. ‘We must have been standing here for at least half an hour.’

      ‘A very pleasant half-hour, as far as I am concerned, though perhaps I’ve intruded on your privacy too long?’

      ‘When I saw you standing here this morning, I’ll admit I was irked,’ Emily confessed. ‘I consider Karrek Sands my own personal beach, I’ll have you know. But now—I am enjoying our conversation, Captain Penhaligon.’

      ‘Will you call me Treeve?’

      ‘If you will call me Emily.’ There was a warmth in his smile that she could not resist. It seemed to her that fate had brought him to the beach, the perfect antidote to her loneliness for he was, in some ways, as much a stranger here as she. A very appealing stranger, who for whatever reason, seemed to find her appealing too. And whether that made her shallow or not she didn’t care! It was a salve to her ravaged sense of self-worth. What harm could there be in enjoying the moment!

      A wavelet, bolder than the rest, washed over Treeve’s brogues, and she burst out laughing. ‘If we are actually going to do any walking today, you’ll need to take those shoes off or they’ll get ruined.’

      ‘And here was me thinking that you were going to teach me to walk on water too.’ Treeve knelt down, divesting himself quickly of his brogues and stockings. ‘There, now we can both enjoy the bite of the sea on our toes. Shall we?’

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