“I’ve dreamt about this,” he breathed raggedly against her throat. “Every night. The way you feel. The sounds you make. The way you look at me after, like I’m—”
“Like you’re everything,” she panted. “Because you are to me.”
They came together on the old settee, a tangle of wet clothes and seeking hands and whispered promises. An hour later, as they lay wrapped in each other, Cecilia traced patterns on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath her palm.
“The orphans are going to be scandalized,” she murmured, “finding the library closed with no warning. I’ll have Andrews write to Pru to keep it open.”
“They’ll survive the scandal.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Though we should probably leave soon.”
“In a moment.”
“In a moment,” he whispered.
But they stayed there longer than a moment, neither ready to move. The rain had slowly softened to a gentle patter. The light that broke through the clouds had turned golden.
Eventually, Cecilia tilted her head back to look at him. “Tell me aboutCrete.”
So he did. He regaled her with stories of white buildings clinging to cliffsides, about water so blue it hurt to look at, about olive groves and ancient ruins and all the places he wanted to show her. His voice was excited, full of plans and promises.
She believed him.
And for the first time in two months, Cecilia felt like she could breathe again.
EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER
Crete
The boat rocked gently as Cassian guided it through crystalline waters, the oars cutting smooth lines in the blue. Cecilia trailed her fingers over the side, marveling at how clear it was, just as he’d told her countless times on their long journey here. She could see straight to the sandy bottom, could watch fish dart between rocks twenty feet below.
“It’s like glass,” she breathed in wonder.
“Wait until we reach the shallows near the island.” Cassian nodded toward the small landmass ahead, little more than a rocky outcrop crowned with scrub brush and twisted olive trees. “You can see every pebble.”
She smiled at the boyish enthusiasm in his voice. Two months in Crete had bronzed his skin and lightened his hair at the temples.He looked younger somehow, or perhaps simply happier. The tension that had lived in his shoulders in England on the fateful day he’d returned had melted away under the Mediterranean sun.
“How much farther?” she asked.
“Another thirty minutes, perhaps.” He pulled the oars in a steady rhythm, muscles flexing beneath his shirt. “There’s something I want to show you. I found it years ago, on my first voyage out of England.”
“A hidden treasure?”
“Something like that.”
She was about to respond when Cassian suddenly lurched to the side, the boat tipping sharply. Her stomach dropped as he tumbled over the edge with a tremendous splash.
“Cassian!” She lunged for the side, gripping the rail as the boat rocked wildly. The water where he’d fallen was disturbed, foaming white, but he didn’t surface. “Cassian! Where are you!”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. How long had it been? Ten seconds? Twenty? The water settled, then turned calm again, and still nothing.
“Cassian, this isn’t funny!” Her voice pitched higher. She leaned over as far as she dared, scanning the depths.Nothing. Justblue water and distant sand and her own reflection staring back, wide-eyed and pale.
Oh God. What if he’d hit his head? What if he’d caught his foot on something? What if—
He erupted from the water on the other side of the boat, gasping and grinning and very much alive.
Cecilia shrieked and fell backward onto the bench, one hand pressed to her racing heart. “You are truly an incorrigible scoundrel!”
