One Week as Lovers by Victoria Dahl Page B

Trevington. Trapped in the schoolroom with her sister, Cynthia had missed his send-off on that sunny morning. But she’d reassured herself that he’d return soon enough and this horrid sorrow and separation would end.
    A few days later, his family had packed up suddenly and gone to join him. And then…nothing. Nothing. A month came and went. No one returned.
    For weeks afterward, Mrs. Pell had avoided Cynthia’s question until the truth had become unavoidable. The Cantrys’ possessions had gradually been sealed into crates and shipped off to London. The servants let go one by one until only Mrs. Pell remained. And Cynthia, of course. Cynthia had been left behind too.
    She’d written letters she’d never sent, confessing her love; woven excuses from the cobwebs that formed in the places they’d once played; shed tears for him every night.
    Despite all that, she’d healed. And now he was back.
    Cynthia kicked a shell out of her path and headed straight for the little four-foot cliff that put an abrupt end to the easy part of the trek.
    The wind shaped her skirt into a bell when she jumped, hiding her view of the sand, but she landed steady and paused to watch the waves roll toward her.
    “Cynthia!” His voice fell toward her just as Nick landed with a thump at her side. “Are you hurt?”
    “What?”
    He ducked down and reached for her skirts.
    “What are you doing?” she cried as his hands delved beneath her thread-worn petticoat and stroked from her knees to her boot tops.
    “Your ankles. You likely turned one with a fall like that.”
    “I jumped!”
    He tugged off his gloves and patted at her skin as if he might discover a shard of bone sticking out.
    “Stop that.”
    His warm hands continued roaming.
    “Nick.” His hand touched the back of her knee and she jumped clear of him. “Nick!” Legs burning with the memory of his pressing fingers, Cynthia stepped a safer distance away. “I didn’t fall, my ankles are fine, and we’ve another half-mile in this sand,” she said before whirling around to walk quickly away.
    Gentlemen did not touch ladies in that way. It wasn’t proper. Unless, of course, said gentlemen considered that lady a child.
    Unfortunately, regardless of what Nick might think of her maturity, her body was very clear on the matter. She was a woman, and Nick was a fine, handsome man with strong, warm hands that she’d dreamed of for years.
    James had been a mistake. But Nick…Nick could be something better. Nick had already set her limbs shaking with a few simple touches. It was more than James had done for her.
    She imagined kissing Nick, imagined him backing her up against a wall….
    A little dip in the sand buckled her knee, and Nick’s hand closed around her elbow, startling her. She hadn’t known he was so close, but now her skin tingled at his nearness.
    “Where are we going?” Nick asked, his deep voice nearly swallowed by the surf.
    “Just past the cliffs I canvassed yesterday.”
    “You’ve only made it a half-mile up the shore?”
    “Yes.”
    “I see. And…what exactly does the diary say about the location of this treasure?”
    She glanced at him, then quickly away. The diary was her trump card, her only leverage in this struggle with Nick. If she told him the exact wording, he’d likely take over the search himself. And this was her search, damn it. Some small piece of her mess of a life that she could own.
    So she muttered, “It’s vague,” and picked up her pace. The sand sucked at her feet until her muscles burned.
    Nick seemed unimpeded. “Well, my God, Cyn. I’ve miles of coastline. This could take forever.”
    “Mm.”
    “There’s nothing more specific?”
    “Not really.” Much to her relief, a distraction appeared ahead in the form of a thirty-foot wall of rock in her path. Cynthia smiled.
    He cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should take a look at this diary and…What are you doing?”
    As she was very obviously tucking her skirts up into the