Chapter Eight
Two days later
Dom sat in the taproom of the village inn, awaiting the breakfast that the kindly innkeeper’s wife insisted on making for him. Thankfully, the coffee was dark enough to match his mood.
The one lady in all of Wiggenstow he actually wanted to see and speak to was avoiding him. Though, of no real interest to him, two of the ladies he’d met at the Walcotts’ had already sent invitations. One wished him to join her family for tea, and the other quite boldly asked him to squire her to the village’s spring fair, which was apparently imminent.
He’d set both invites aside, wishing he’d never agreed to attend the blasted dinner.
No, of course, that wasn’t true. Those few stolen moments with Tess that night had made all the smiling and boasting and forced magnetism worthwhile.
Dom drank down a swig of the hot brew to distract himself, but it was too late. He was already hard at the mere memory of the lush sweetness of her mouth. He wasn’t sure she’d even realized the sounds she’d made when he swept his tongue against the seam of her lips, or the way her body arched into his, but he’d noticed everything. Every breath. Every slide of her fingers against his skin. Every erotic little mewl she emitted as he tasted her.
His lust for Tess Hawthorne blazed far beyond what it should after only a few days’ acquaintance. Hell, it wasn’t appropriate at all, given their agreement to work together for Fenbridge.
What he hoped most is that she didn’t regret it.
He’d thought of calling at her family’s home when he’d heard nothing from her on Saturday, but as it was now Sunday, he didn’t wish to invite himself and intrude. But he had sought out her brother via a note delivered by a local lad.
Even as he awaited Tristan Hawthorne’s arrival, Dom had already decided that he would apologize, if that’s what it took to make amends with Tess. He didn’t regret a damn thing. Hell, it was all he could do on their carriage ride back from the Walcotts’ not to touch her. But she’d kept silent, seemingly lost in thought, and he didn’t want to give her more to fret about. So, he’d say he was sorry if it allayed whatever regrets she might have.
He’d vow not to touch her again, not unless she invited him to. He groaned, hating that idea, suspecting he’d be tempted to break the vow as soon as he was near her again. Yet he knew it was the proper and gentlemanly thing to do.
He shook his head and swigged more coffee. When the hell had he ever been concerned with being a proper gentleman?
That part of him that didn’t give a toss about propriety whispered possibilities in his mind. He wanted her, whatever the cost. Her kiss, the way she’d tucked herself against him, confirmed that Tess was attracted to him too, at the very least.
Would it be so bad if they gave in to a craving that was undeniably mutual?
“Good morning, Prince,” Tristan Hawthorne called in greeting. “I was surprised by your summons. Thought you’d be seeking out Tess rather than me.”
Dom stood to greet the man, taking his offered hand and giving it a firm shake. “Call me Dominic.”
“Tristan.”
“I’ll apprise Tess of everything I’m about to discuss with you, or you could. But I was hoping you’d agree to serve as foreman among the men we’ve hired for the dig.”
Tristan blinked as if surprised by the offer and then smiled. “I’d be happy to.”
“Good.” Dom pulled out a document he’d prepared for Tess’s brother. It was a copy, more or less, of the cross section Eve had drawn during their dig the previous fall. It also included estimated measurements for the trench they’d dig to begin this excavation.
“As you see, we’ll likely need to remove around five feet of soil before we begin to find anything of value.”
Tristan nodded. “Understood. We could start as early as today if you like.”
“Are you certain?”
The innkeeper’s wife approached with a mug of coffee for Tristan, and he thanked her with a roguish wink.
Dom waited while the man took a sip, seeming to savor it as much as he did.
“Most of the men we’ve engaged work other jobs during the week. They’re expecting to devote hours on weekends. I can’t promise all would be willing to start today, but I could likely gather a group of six or so.”
“Excellent.” Dom felt that familiar churn of anticipation in his gut. His fingers itched to touch the treasure they were going to find in Fenbridge’s field. “I’ve had new supplies sent from Norwich and delivered to Fenbridge’s groundskeeper. The man has cleared out some space in a shed at the estate.”
He handed over a pouch filled with coins. “We can pay the workers daily or weekly. You decide.”
“Daily will keep them happier and will draw more workers, no doubt.” Tristan took the pouch, jangling the coins inside. “We have tools at Foxdene too if they’re needed. Tess and I were keen to dig and have our own little collection from excavating the back garden. We just made do with whatever we could find.” He chuckled and then shook his head when he saw Dom’s brows shoot up. “We found nothing of value, I assure you. Some interesting rocks, a coin or two, a bit of dinnerware a former mistress of the cottage must have chucked out.”
