"I-I was." That's why she had only one leg.

"What's the worst that could happen? You could fall. I've already fallen twice."

Could she do it? She hated falling in public, but here everyone took spills.

He nudged her with his elbow. "I'll skate backward in front of you, hold your hands."

She glared at him.

He laughed and inspected the trees behind them. "All right then. I'll find a stick. You hold one end, and I'll hold the other. You won't have to touch me and catch my diseases."

"Oh brother. That's not necessary. We're wearing gloves." She folded her legs beneath her and stood up on the pier. "Come on. I need to rent skates."

"That's the spirit." Arch glided beside the pier. "Nice gloves, by the way."

"Oh, these?" Lillian inspected the russet leather. "Rather pretentious, don't you think? But they're warm."

"Just for that, I'll make you rent your own skates."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." But oh dear, what had she gotten herself into? Ice-skating? Holding hands with Arch? Once again, her impulsivity caused trouble. When would she learn?

After she rented skates, she sat on the pier to put them on. Thank goodness Arch didn't offer to help. Instead he stood at an angle that shielded her from gawkers.

Chivalry without flirtation-a strange but potent blend. She concentrated on lacing the boots, not sure what to say. She'd been praying more, trying to open her heart to the Lord, but she had no intention of opening her heart to a man.

"Lillian? What are you doing?" Jim skated up with Mary.

Why were there so many grommets? "I'm going skating."

"But . . . but what if-"

"I promised to help," Arch said. "May I?"

Lillian tugged the bow tight. "I don't need my brother's permiss-"

"May I?" Arch didn't break his gaze with his friend.

Jim's hazel eyes softened, then he smiled. "When Lillian Avery gets it in her mind to do something, you can't stop her."

"Right." She stuffed the ends of the laces inside her boot so she wouldn't trip on them. "If I fall, I'll get up. Same as you. Ready, Arch?"

"Ready." He held out both hands.

"Come on, Jim." Mary tugged her boyfriend's sleeve. "She'll be fine."

He skated away but glanced over his shoulder at Arch. "Take care of her."

"I will." Arch opened and closed his outstretched fingers.

Lillian hesitated, but after her brave speech, she couldn't back out now. She grasped Arch's hands and sucked in a breath at the gentle firmness of his grip.

"Nice and easy," he said.

She set her feet square and pushed to standing, Arch's strength stiffening her arms. She felt strangely tall, and she laughed and looked into Arch's eyes, so bright and close. "Oh my."

"Slippery, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Heat rushed into her cheeks. Thank goodness he'd misunderstood her.

"All right. Let's get you moving. I'll skate backward. Keep your feet shoulder's width apart, toes pointing forward, knees soft."

"Knees soft. Okay."

Arch checked over his shoulder and glided backward.

Lillian's feet slipped, and she squealed and leaned forward at the waist to stop.

"Don't fight it." Arch scooted closer. "Keep your feet underneath and let yourself glide."

A ragged breath escaped her lungs. "Don't fight it."

"That's right." His voice held such a soothing quality. "Let yourself follow me."

When he eased away, she forced herself to stay upright and allow him to pull her along. The ice melted beneath her blades, and she moved forward, gasping in equal parts fear and delight.

"That's it." Arch's skates moved in and out, tracing hourgla.s.ses on the ice. "Soft knees."

"Soft. Soft." She laughed. "I'm skating."

"Yes, you are." Crinkles fanned out from his eyes. "I'll call you Sonja Henie."

"Sonja Henie? Only if she broke down and had to be towed." But Lillian relished the chilly air on her cheeks. She was moving. She was actually moving. And she wanted more.

The lagoon stretched about six city blocks, spanning the width of the Public Garden, with the little suspension bridge like a ribbon around its neck. "I want to go under the bridge, and I want to go faster."

"All right then." Arch grinned and picked up speed.

Lillian stumbled, but she caught herself. "Why didn't I do this earlier?"

"You didn't want to get hurt. I understand." He glanced back and shifted their course to the right.

"On the other side of the bridge, I want you to teach me to skate."

He lifted one eyebrow. "Jim was right. You are a daredevil. Please remember, I promised him I'd take care of you."

"Oh, he's a fussy old hen. You also promised to help me, and I want to skate like everyone else."

"How can I deny a lady's request?" Arch's eyes glinted, the color magnified by the navy blue of his cover and coat. Why couldn't the Navy use a different color for its uniforms?

She tore her attention away to the bridge, to the stone pillar-straight ahead. "Watch out! The bridge."

"What?" He whipped his gaze over his shoulder, which turned him closer to the pillar.

Lillian squealed.

Arch's back slammed into the pillar. She plowed into the wall of his chest. He caught her around the waist, but her feet scrabbled beneath her, and she thumped onto her backside, her back, Arch tumbling beside her.

"Lillian! Are you all right?" He raised himself on his elbows, his eyes wide.

She pushed up to sitting and inspected herself, head to wooden toe. "My leg didn't fall off. That's all that matters."

He got up to his knees. He'd lost his cover, and the disheveled golden waves of his hair shook. Then he laughed, head back, one hand over his belly.

She never talked openly about her condition, never joked about it, never laughed about it, but now she did, and it felt wonderful.

Arch put his cover back on, braced one hand against the pillar, and stood. "Come on, Miss Avery. Let's get you up before your brother comes after me."

"All right." She took Arch's hands, got up to her knees, planted her right skate on the ice, then pushed herself up. She wobbled and slipped but didn't fall. "Don't slow down now. I want to go fast. But watch where you steer the ship, Cap'n."

He skated backward with a mischievous grin. "Every captain has a navigator."

She laughed. "You're blaming me?"

"No, no, no. I'm inviting you to boss me around."

"Hmm." She liked that idea, and she tilted her chin to the right. "That way."

"Would you at least say please?"

"That way, please. A bit farther, please. Then teach me to skate, please."

"I never knew good manners could sound so sarcastic."

She smiled from the rush of cold air and the warmth of camaraderie. Had she ever felt this comfortable with a man who wasn't an Avery? Not with Gordon. Never with him. Always a weight on her chest, a sense of imbalance, of unease.

"Relax." Arch jiggled her hands. "You've already fallen, gotten the worst part over. Are you sure you want to learn to skate?"

Lillian pushed back the memories. "Yes, I do."

"Good." Arch slowed his motion, tensing his arms to slow her down as well. After they stopped in an open patch of ice, he spun to her side, holding only one hand.

He gazed across the Public Garden. "We couldn't ask for a better day for skating."

"No, we couldn't." The sky spread over them, as blue as Arch's eyes.

"Still not used to seeing the State House in mourning."

As an air raid precaution, the golden dome of the Ma.s.sachusetts State House had been painted black after Pearl Harbor. "Do you think we're in danger of air raids?"

"Not on this coast. The Germans don't have aircraft carriers as the j.a.panese do, and they don't have long-range bombers. The hysteria is misplaced. We're focusing on a nonexistent danger while ignoring a real danger."

"The U-boats."

He nodded, his expression distant and aimed east. "We black out the dome but refuse to black out our cities. The U-boats sit offsh.o.r.e at night, and the merchant ships are silhouetted against the city lights. Easy pickings. We've lost dozens of ships, thousands of tons of cargo. Hundreds of men." Arch's hand shivered in hers.

"Are you cold?"

"Cold?"

"Your hand is shaking."

Alarm flashed in his eyes, but then he gave her a flat smile. "A sailor never admits to feeling cold. But let's get moving again, shall we?"

"By all means." Men were such a strange lot.

"Now, I promise I'm not getting fresh, but let me put my arm around your waist, and you put yours around mine. Just until you get the feel of skating."

Despite his innocent expression, her throat threatened to close. "I'd rather not."

"Very well." One nod, and he raised their joined hands. "Then hold tight."

No pressure? No reasoned arguments? No cajoling?

"Keep both feet underneath you at first, like before. And watch me." Arch inched forward. "Put your weight on one foot, then the other. Let me know when you're ready."

Lillian gripped his hand, her forearm braced along his, her other hand free and insecure. "Oh dear."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm ready." She shifted her weight to her good leg, wobbled, then put her left leg back on the ice where it belonged.

"You're fine. Try the other leg."

"But that's my bad leg."

"Bad?" He flipped up a grin. "It's as solid as oak."

She gasped out a laugh. "Arch Vandenberg."

"Am I wrong?"

"No." But she shook her head at his audacity, his delightful audacity. Then she put her weight on her prosthesis and lifted her right leg, set it down, repeated with the right.

"There you go." He squeezed her hand. "Keep it up."

"My word." It was clunky, awkward, clumsy, but she was moving, one leg at a time.

With Arch at her side, encouraging her, supporting her, believing in her.