Chapter Ten
Three days after being rained out, they’d made significant progress uncovering more of the darker tinted soil that Dom now
believed, along with Tess, indicated an object, likely composed of wood, which had decayed over time on the site.
The previous day, a cross pendant had been found by Tess at the far edge of the trench that looked to be from the late medieval
period. And they continued to uncover bits of animal bone and items that had been used to work the land, such as a weathered
iron plowshare.
But the ideas about what might have left the marks in the soil were so debated that some of the men had begun taking bets.
Dom just wanted answers, but he knew patience would serve him best. Memories of Peter reminded him of the value of patience.
He worked to summon some of his friend’s steady, hopeful nature at those moments when disappointment and frustration crept
in at the end of a day with nothing found that could be classified as treasure.
Tess didn’t seem to share his struggle. She had a bit of Peter’s nature, joining persistence with hopefulness. Dom had never
once seen her waver in her belief that the dig was a worthwhile endeavor, even after spending a morning listening to Fenbridge’s
cynicism about what the mounds might hold.
Tonight, as the men stowed tools and prepared to quit the site for the day, Dom’s thoughts were fixed entirely on the sunny-haired beauty making notes at a table set up on the trench’s edge.
Though he knew it was a special day for her, she’d treated it as any other—as her brother told Dom she would—working diligently, remaining focused on her tasks.
Tristan approached along the trench’s ridge.
“You haven’t forgotten about tonight,” he said in a low voice, his eyes flickering toward his sister.
“Of course not. I’m looking forward to it.”
Tristan shot him a half-smile. “She doesn’t like a fuss, so it will just be the few of us.”
“Thank you for including me.”
“See you in a bit.” Tristan clapped him on the back and strode toward his sister, who collected her things and offered Dom
a wave.
He waved back, and the two headed off toward Foxdene.
Dom made his way back to the inn with a quick, long stride. He washed and took extra care with shaving and dressing, and then
collected the item he’d ordered from London as soon as Tristan extended the invitation to join the family tonight.
All the way to Foxdene, he debated whether he should have chosen something else. Perhaps it was presumptuous. Perhaps it was
too practical.
Good grief, no woman had ever tied him in knots the way Tess Hawthorne did. She consumed his thoughts when she was near during
the day. He admired her insights and her enthusiasm for the work. When they parted at night, she remained on his mind and
sometimes even appeared in his dreams.
She’d invited him to dine with them at Foxdene twice, and each time he’d relished the easy conversation between the siblings
and Mrs. Wells. The cottage was a place of family and comfort, the kind of comfort he’d been avoiding for years.
Now, he was almost giddy at the prospect of joining them again, though what he really hoped for was a moment alone with Tess.
They hadn’t had one since she’d found him in the Walcotts’ library.
He wondered if that was something she purposely avoided.
She certainly wanted to avoid the matter of their kiss.
All he wanted was to kiss her again. Once more, and he’d surely get her out of his head. Once more, and he could go back to
being the sort of man he’d been before he met her.
Surely, it was the maddening fact that he couldn’t touch her, or kiss her, that made him want her with an unrelenting ache.
Foxdene glowed from within, its windows a golden brightness in the dusk, and Dom caught the scent of wisteria on the warm
evening breeze.
He didn’t have to knock.
Mrs. Wells seemed to be watching for him and opened the door the minute he approached.
“Welcome, Mr. Prince, come in. Come in.”
“It’s Dominic to you, Mrs. Wells,” he said as he stepped inside and was assailed with the scent of sugary, fresh-baked confections.
Tess stood near the fireplace with her brother, and both turned to greet him.
She was all Dom could see.
She wore her hair pinned up, but a single blond curl had come loose to graze her neck. He swallowed hard as his eyes fixed
on that spot that he suddenly had the overwhelming need to taste.
She didn’t smile—not at first. Her eyes held a flicker of something he’d seen that night in the library.
“Dominic,” she said, “Tristan promised me you’re the only guest he invited.”
“I’m honored.”
Her gaze slid down to the gift under his arm.
“This is for you.” He offered her the box tied with a satin ribbon. “Happy birthday, Tess.”
“Thank you,” she said as she reached for the gift with both hands.
“Go on and open it, Tess,” Tristan urged before stepping away to convene with Mrs. Wells.
Tess stepped over to one of the stuffed chairs before the fire and settled into it. Dom took the one next to it, sitting on
the edge, elbows on his knees, fingers laced tight.
He watched her work at the ribbon on the parcel, and his breath got caught somewhere behind his ribs.
It was absurd. He’d faced vandals in his travels, bartered with grave robbers, and traversed crumbling bridges. But none of
that had made his palms itch like they did now as he watched Tess open her gift.
When she edged the lid of the box free, she stilled as she looked inside.
He couldn’t read her expression, but she seemed to be holding her breath too.
Then she lifted the leather case out gently, settled it on her lap, and opened it to reveal the tools nestled inside.
“A field set,” she said, her voice breathy and low. “But not just any set. This is . . .” She lifted a brush, its mahogany
handle polished and smooth. “This is beautiful.”
Dom cleared his throat, trying to breathe steadily. “I had it assembled by a gentleman in London, who engraved each piece
for you.”
Tess lifted the trowel, noting her initials engraved on the brass collar between the blade and the handle.
“I thought you should have your own set rather than being forced to use my blunt old tools, and I wanted you to have the best.”
“It’s perfect.” Her smile lit up the whole room and seemed to ignite something within him too.
His heart drummed in his chest. Relief, he told himself, because he’d chosen well, and she was pleased.
But the feelings were more potent than that. A bit terrifying. What he felt was new. He’d never belonged to anyone. Never
wanted to offer a woman more than charm and pleasure. But when she smiled at him—open and joyful—it felt a bit like she’d
taken that shiny new trowel of hers and carved her initials on his heart.
“Thank you, Dominic.”
He swallowed hard. “You’re welcome, Tess.”
Tess had never received a more thoughtful gift in her life, and every time she looked at the man who’d chosen it for her,
she felt a blush warm her cheeks.
In that moment before the fire, she’d wanted to touch Dominic. No, she’d wanted more than that. She’d wanted to kiss him.
Again.
Not just because he’d given her something precious, but because the gift proved that he saw her aspirations and thought her
capable of achieving them.
After dinner and cake, Tristan stood to complete the mortifying birthday tradition of writing ridiculous poems about each
other.
He stood, cleared his throat dramatically, plucked a piece of paper from atop the mantel, and began.
“Here’s to Tess, my dearest pest, who once declared—at age four—she’d dig up Romans by the score.”
Mrs. Wells clapped at that and winked at Tess.
“She knows her kings,” Tristan continued, “from Aethelred to the single one who lost his head. May your cake be sweet, your toes never cold. Now you’re another year closer to old.”
Dominic applauded and burst into deep, booming laughter that Tess felt echo in her chest. She laughed too, and then harder
once she saw how much the poem amused him.
Tristan took a bow and then another as if he stood before an adoring audience at the Drury Lane theater.
Mrs. Wells, who’d applauded him the most fervently, stood and began collecting plates and glasses. Tess got up to help her.
“’Tis a full moon tonight, Tess,” Mrs. Wells said as they carried the dishes into the kitchen. “Fine night for a wee walk,
wouldn’t you say? Mayhap to the sacred tree.”
A week ago, Tess would have balked at the suggestion that she go out into a cloudless night for a wander with a dangerously
handsome man. But now she craved a moment alone with Dominic, and Mrs. Wells had suggested a spot that Tess suspected he would
find as interesting as she did.
“Would you join me for a walk, Dominic?”
He stood and shot her a surprised look. “I’d love to.”
Mrs. Wells made a little sound of satisfaction, and Tess went to the threshold, where Dominic soon joined her.
For a while, they walked in silence, close enough that their arms brushed.
“I think you’ll like this spot I plan to take you to,” Tess finally said.
“I’d enjoy being with you even if we had no destination in mind.”
Tess said nothing in reply. She didn’t dare, for if she did, whatever this spark was between them would certainly blaze. And
the thought of it, as tantalizing as the prospect was, made something tighten in her chest.
She reminded herself that he wasn’t the other man who’d hurt her. He’d proven that with his thoughtfulness, by abiding by her insistence that they treat each other in a professional manner, and by never mentioning the kiss that was seared in her mind.
“Tell me about your sisters,” she said to stop herself from ruminating and because she wanted to know about his life back
in London.
He glanced at her. “Well, they’re quite remiss, for one thing. I’m sorry to say that neither writes me a poem for me on my
birthday.”
Tess chuckled.
“But they’re each special in their own way. Eve is clever and confident in her abilities, and she’s the most even-tempered
of all of us. She keeps the peace. It’s hard to truly rile her.”
“And the other?”
“Allie is clever too. Fiercely loyal. Almost dangerously inquisitive.”
“Is a curious lady a dangerous thing?”
“Not in my opinion, but she took some risks last year while Eve and I were here that I wish she had not.”
“Was she injured?”
He tipped a look her way and smiled. “No, thank goodness. It turned out well. In the end, she got a husband and wrote a book.”
Tess smiled, then pointed toward the tree in the distance. “There it is.”
The yew stood next to the ruins of what had once been a monastery, and perhaps, long before that, a site of pagan worship
and ritual. Its long, gnarled limbs stretched wide, heavy with evergreen leaves.
“Good God, that trunk could fit a small cottage,” Dominic said, awestruck.
She could sense his excitement. The same she always experienced when approaching this tree that felt sacred in its ancient steadiness.
“Some say it’s stood here two thousand years.”
As they approached, Tess noted that the air felt cooler near the tree and oddly hushed. One couldn’t help but feel the need
to show respect for such an elder, the keeper of so many secrets.
“This is the most extraordinary part,” she said, lowering her voice to show the aged sentinel reverence. She knelt at the
base of the tree.
“A hollow,” Dominic murmured, as he knelt down beside her, his thigh touching hers.
“They say it’s a wishing hollow,” Tess told him, then gestured toward the interior. “See there. Those markings have always
looked as if they might be runes to me.”
Dom bent to look inside. Even with the bright summer moonlight, the hollow was obscured in darkness. He ran his fingers over
the spot she indicated then glanced back at her. “If they are, this yew has stood watch here for many centuries.” A smile
curved his lips. “An extraordinary thing.”
“I knew you’d appreciate it,” Tess said with an answering smile. “But the tree has done more than merely stand watch. It’s
listened too. They say if you press your hand inside the hollow on the full moon and whisper a wish, it will come true.”
“Have you ever told it one of your wishes?” he asked softly.
“Yes, a few times.”
For a moment, Dominic watched her so intently that she felt herself listing toward him, just as she had in the Walcotts’ library.
He leaned nearer too. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. It was coming fast. Just like hers.
“What did you wish for, Tess?”
If she angled an inch closer, she could kiss him as she’d thought of doing back at Foxdene. As she’d thought of so many times
since that first kiss.
The breeze blew a loose strand of hair across her face, and he reached up to sweep it back, tucking it gently behind her ear.
“You can’t tell your wish to anyone. If you do, it won’t come true.” Tess looked toward the tree, watching the sway of its
heavy limbs, trying to steady the racing thud of her heartbeat. His nearness made her chest tight, not out of fear, but as
if all the yearning inside her was too much to contain.
Yes, she’d told her silly, youthful wishes to the tree. Always some version of the same one: a wish to find love. A wish she
now kept at bay with rational thoughts and work and the meticulous cataloging of old things.
The last time she’d given her heart, it had cost her that youthful hopefulness.
Yet this man, so appealing he made her mouth water, touched her with such gentleness that it undid her as surely as that one
delicious kiss had.
“Shall I make a wish?” he whispered.
“Yes.” Tess reached for his hand, and he immediately clasped hers. She bent forward, guiding him toward the tree’s hollow.
He flattened his palm against the bark, and she held her hand over his.
“You must whisper it,” she told him, then stood and took a few steps back.
He looked at her over his shoulder, a little smile tipping the edge of his mouth. Then he bent toward the tree and murmured
something low and deep against the hollow.
She was insatiably curious about his wish, of course, but she would keep to the tradition of secrecy.
Dominic stood and dusted off his hands, then he joined her to begin the walk back.
“Did your wishes come true?” he asked as they left the shelter of the yew tree’s sweeping branches.
Tess shook her head. “But you’ll have to tell me if yours does.” As she looked over at him, she stumbled the next step and
he reached for her.
When they started off again, he shifted closer and offered his arm as a gentleman would when strolling through a London park.
Tess only hesitated a moment before she took it, letting herself relish his nearness and the shift of hard muscles where she
touched him.
He tipped his head toward hers and whispered in a low voice, “If my wish comes true, Tess, you’ll know it.”