Chapter Sixteen #2
“A gift I’m certain I don’t deserve. She’s forgiven me, so I’m determined to spend the rest of my days making it up to her.”
He all but bounced on his heels. “It’s what I came to tell Tess.”
“You proposed to her?” A twinge of something very like envy rushed through Dom.
“Better yet, she said yes.”
Dom stepped forward and offered his hand. “Congratulations, Tristan.”
He kept hold of Dom’s hand as he assessed him. “I like you, Dominic. Wouldn’t mind calling you brother.”
“You’re rushing ahead, man.” Dom’s eyes flared wider.
Tristan released his hand, then he lifted a slip of paper from the pocket of his trousers and offered it to Dom. He glanced at the mantel clock.
“It’s likely been long enough. Go and find my sister,” he told him. “If she’s where I think she is, it will be straight out
the garden gate and along the field to an old stone fence on Fenbridge land.”
Dom lifted the folded square of paper. “And what is this?”
“I found it affixed to the front door. A note from his lordship asking Tess to come to the hall and telling her to bring you
along when she does.”
“But it’s Sunday, and we didn’t dig yesterday. Why would he need a report this morning?” Dom had hoped to spend the morning
with Tess, alone and free to perhaps visit some other local historical landmark. Or take her back to bed.
Tristan shrugged and reached for his hat where he’d hung it on a hook inside the door. “What the owner of the land we’re digging
upon wants, he gets, I suppose.”
Dom watched as Tristan reached for the door handle.
“I thought you wanted to tell Tess your good news.”
“Oh, I do, but I promised Justine I’d accompany her to speak to her brothers.” The young man grimaced. “If you’re the praying
sort, a petition that I survive this meeting with Bill Bromley wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Shall I accompany you?” Dom asked him. “If I let her brother go to his death, I doubt Tess would ever forgive me.”
“No.” Tristan reached out and patted Dom’s shoulder. “Go and find my sister.”
As soon as Tristan left the cottage, Dom put on his boots and headed the way Tess’s brother had directed.
Sunlight lit the horizon and there were patches of blue sky above his head. It seemed the late spring rain had passed for now, and they’d be able to return to work. Dom told himself the eagerness fizzing inside him should be about what they might find today. And the next day.
Yet it was all for Tess. And when he saw her in the distance, striding toward him, her long blond hair loose and whipping
about her shoulders, he almost broke into a run.
He held back, tried for some of the control that had always been easy, at least where his heart was concerned. But he lengthened
his gait, as did she.
“I came to find you,” he called when the fact was blatantly obvious.
“And I was coming to find you,” she replied with a smile, just as she had at Fenbridge Hall.
That smile loosened something in his chest.
“I’m sorry for disappearing without a word,” she told him when they’d stopped and stood before each other.
“Your brother advised me to give you time to think when you need it.”
“Tristan?” A pink-peach blush rushed over her cheeks. “Did he come home in the night?”
“No, this morning.”
Both of her dark-gold brows winged high. “So, he knows.”
“I think he can conclude . . .”
“It’s all right.” She ducked her head and laughed. “Tristan won’t tell anyone.”
“What matters most is that you’re all right,” he said quietly, stepping close enough to reach for her. Yet when he did, she
cast a glance around as if to ensure no one from the village was wandering the same field.
“How could I not be?” she said a bit too lightly.
“Tess, last night—”
“Was wonderful,” she finished with an earnestness that put him at ease.
“But you needed time to think.” He didn’t blame her for that. God knew his own thoughts were a jumble. “Did it help?”
“A bit.”
Dom wanted to ask more, wanted to ask her for the same honesty she’d demanded of him, but something held him back. Something
in her eyes—a hesitation, uncertainty. The last thing he wanted was to force her into some confession she wasn’t ready to
give.
“Tristan found a note on the door from Fenbridge,” he told her instead.
“Oh?”
“It seems he wants his usual visit this morning, but he’s asked that I accompany you.”
She tilted her head as if confused. “That’s curious.” She took in his rumpled clothing, her gaze catching at the skin revealed
by the open buttons at his throat. Then she glanced down at her own clothes.
“I’ll go back to the inn and change and meet you back at the cottage.”
For a moment, she looked as if she’d keep him with her, lifting her hand as if to touch him. So much was going unsaid between
them, and yet they both seemed unable to articulate anything sufficient after the hours they’d spent together.
He was altered by it. That was his one certainty. “Will you come to the inn tonight?”
It was the plainest, simplest expression of how much he wanted the new closeness between them to continue.
“Yes.” She wore an inscrutable expression, but he was too pleased at the thought of more time with her to worry overmuch.
Dom bent to kiss her quickly. Too quickly. Too brief a taste, and then they parted ways. He crossed the field toward town, and she headed back toward Foxdene.
Tonight, he planned to tell her what he felt, even if he didn’t yet know how she’d react. She needed to know that, to him,
this wasn’t just some temporary, rule-bound liaison. At least he didn’t want it to be.
For the first time in his life, he wanted more, and yet he may be losing his damned cynical heart to a lady who wanted nothing
more from him than any other had.