She put up a hand and turned his face towards her. The dark eyes were shining with an emotion he’d never encountered before. Joe still hesitated to put a name on it, but whatever it was, it was undisguised, unveiled, unchallenging and totally hypnotic.
“You won’t yell for help, will you, if I put my arms round you, hug you close and give you a proper kiss?” she asked.
“Great heavens, Dorcas! Do you know how? Are you sure you want to? I have to ask.”
“Yes, I do, and yes, I do, and no you most certainly don’t. I’ve been meaning to for years. Now, don’t be such a weed! Lie back, take a deep breath, and think of England in springtime.”
Joe took a deep breath, several deep breaths, but remained sitting upright.
“No. Sorry, Dorcas. I can’t. High jinks in a contraption like this at my age? It could all end in shrieks of laughter. Look, I sent the men off to repair the barn roof. If you’ll take a stroll with me down to that patch of ancient woodland, you can whisper in my ear, and I’ll consider any indecent suggestions you care to make in perfect seclusion.”
“Ah! You know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows?”
“Wild garlic anyway. It’s growing very thickly this year. They say its scent is very invigorating.”
He stepped down and lifted her from the hammock. He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head. “Sorry, Dorcas. It’s taken me rather a long time to see it. I’m still struggling with the idea that you might love me. It’s a very strange thing, but I begin to understand when I look at it with the Bard’s eyes-as young Gosling would say:
So we grew together
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition:
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem.
He grinned. “Well, one lovely berry, anyway. The other’s a bit bashed about.”
“Joe, can we leave the bards out of this? I like a man who does his courting in his own words. Or no words at all.”