One Week As Lovers by Victoria Dahl

Author:Victoria Dahl [Dahl, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2009-07-28T04:00:00+00:00

The sun had disappeared behind rain clouds in the first hour of their search. They should have returned then, but Cynthia had insisted on continuing. Not that Lancaster could blame her. This old path offered a whole new landscape, one riddled with holes and caves.

Cynthia was giddy. She was giddy even now, soaking wet from an hour spent hunting for treasure in the rain. Now she formed her own puddle on the carriage seat as they slowly rolled back toward Cantry Manor.

Lancaster watched a shiver work its way up her body as she pulled the carriage robe closer around her and beamed at him.

“It’s got to be there, Nick.”

He smiled at the reckless hope in her voice. “Never count your chickens before they’ve hatched.”

“It’s there. All those caves…You’re so very, very clever.”

“Really? You’re the only one who’s ever recognized that.”

“I’m exceptionally perceptive then.”

“Obviously.”

Cynthia giggled, reminding him of how sweet and feminine she’d looked the night before. Then he remembered that stricken look when he’d rejected her, and Nicholas turned to watch the gray damp through the window.

“What will you do with your half?” she asked.

He threw her a questioning look.

“Your half of the gold.”

“We’d better see how much it is first.”

Cynthia shrugged her wet shoulders. “You are all doom and gloom today.”

“Yes, it’s strange to be the serious one. I’m not sure I like it.”

“I’m certain I’ll be in a foul mood again soon enough. Enjoy the novelty.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and Lancaster wanted to draw closer. To be part of her joy. Thankfully the carriage lurched to a halt before he could do anything stupid.

“Your cloak,” he murmured, as he shoved open the door before Jackson could descend.

Cynthia pulled her sodden hood back over her head and tugged it low to cover her face.

“Take the blanket too.” He handed her down and watched her scurry toward the kitchen door, her identity safely concealed. His coachman was under the impression that he’d been carrying Mrs. Pell around, and he’d been helped along by a very generous gift of whisky from his employer.

The man dropped heavily to the ground and closed the carriage door.

“Thank you for waiting so patiently in the rain, Jackson. I’ll be heading to the village after lunch. You are free until then.”

“Thank ye, milord.” Jackson touched his hat and glanced toward the door. “Mrs. Pell, eh?”

“I’m sorry?”

The coachman listed slightly to the left before overcorrecting himself right into the side of the carriage. “A bit long in the tooth,” Jackson explained. “But a man likes a bit of soft flesh in his hands, don’t ’e? Nothing wrong with that.”

“Er…” Lancaster didn’t want to impugn Mrs. Pell’s reputation, but what other explanation could he offer for a few secluded hours on the beach with his housekeeper?

“Nothing wrong with that at all,” Jackson boomed, punctuating his statement with a firm pat on his master’s back. After providing the lubricant to loosen him up, Lancaster really couldn’t fault the man for his insubordination.

“See to the horses, Jackson. Better ask Adam to help.

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