One Week as Lovers by Victoria Dahl

fifty-fifty. It’s only fair, I suppose. It’s your land.”
    “Do you think that offering a share of the gold—which we likely will never find anyway—will induce me to risk your life?”
    “Oh, for God’s sake!” Whatever control she’d had over her temper vanished in an instant. “My life has been at risk for months and what have you ever known or cared about it? Mind your own business, Viscount.”
    The truth stung, but he shook it off. “I don’t think it needs to be said that this has very much become my business.” He gestured in a wide circle to encompass both his room and his bed. “Every bit of land and property involved in this fantasy of yours belongs to me. So bother your outrage, Miss Merrithorpe.”
    Her eyes narrowed even further. Frankly, he’d be surprised if she could still see. Lancaster shifted his weight to provide better balance in case she felt inclined to fly at him, fists at the ready, as she’d done often in childhood.
    But perhaps Cynthia had matured. She merely cocked her head. “You said you would help me, and I will hold you to that. ‘Help’ implies assistance, not tyranny.”
    My, she actually had grown up. She’d even managed not to raise her voice. Lancaster felt she deserved a reward for that. “Very well, we’ll do this together. But ,” he added when her tense mouth slipped up toward a smile. “I may change my mind if it proves too dangerous.”
    “We’ll see.” Clearly dismissing his concerns, Cynthia stood, shook out her salt-stained gray skirts, and smiled.
    Just like the night before, the force of that smile traveled through him like a thump of sound. His chest tightened.
    “What’s wrong?” Cynthia asked.
    “Nothing. Are you ready?”
    She glanced toward his riding boots and shrugged. “I’m ready. Are you?”
    “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
    Despite the puzzled look she gave him, Cynthia headed for the door. He followed.
    She drew her hood over her head as they descended the stairs and led the way to the door. Mrs. Pell had sent her last set of helping hands out to work in the stables for the morning. The boy, Adam, had been thrilled with the opportunity to spend some time with Lancaster’s honest-to-goodness London driver. Still, Lancaster’s stomach tightened as Cynthia slipped out the wide front door and hurried down the steps. But whatever his nervousness was, Cyn clearly didn’t share it. She didn’t even look over her shoulder as she turned east toward the shore.
    The wind gusted beneath his coat as he hurried to catch up. “Aren’t you nervous you’ll be seen?”
    She shrugged. “If you look furtive, people notice.”
    Ah, yes. He understood that. The key to blending in was looking as if you belonged. But…“How can you know that? Did you escape from Newgate earlier this year?”
    The naughty look she sent him called to mind all the mischief she’d caused as a young girl. “I wasn’t actually supposed to spend every day of my childhood at Cantry Manor, you know. The more time I spent here, the more restrictions my stepfather set down. I learned that if I tried to sneak out, one of the maids would notice and inform my mother. But if I simply walked out as if it were expected…” She winked, startling Lancaster into a smile.
    By God…Cynthia was pretty. How could he have thought her not pretty?
    Her head tilted, and she watched him through her lashes as she stepped onto a well-worn path that sloped gently down. Was she flirting with him? His skin tingled when she licked her lips.
    “Lancaster…” she started.
    “Yes?”
    “Where did you get that scar?”
    The wind gusted, surely twisting her words. “Pardon me?”
    “That scar.” She stopped abruptly and turned toward him with an exasperated smile. “Around your neck,” she huffed. “I saw it last night.”
    When he started to shake his head, she reached up to trail a finger down the skin beneath his chin. Before her finger could reach the linen of his