He lifted a hand as if he wanted to touch her but then lowered it.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. This time his expression matched the warmth in his voice. He looked genuinely contrite, as if disappointing her truly troubled him.
Was it real? She’d asked him for honesty and then watched him put on the greatest performance of charm and colorful storytelling about his adventures for hours.
Still, regardless of her doubts, Tess found herself listing closer. “You’re forgiven.” The words emerged breathless, and it only got worse when he beamed at her in response.
“Thank you.” He stepped back a bit, creating a respectable foot of distance between them. He then gestured to apile of tools he, or perhaps Tristan or one of the other men, had assembled. “Want a shovel?”
“Yes.” Tess strode over and chose one.
“When we get down to the more careful work, you’re welcome to borrow my set.” He pointed to an assembly of hand tools tucked into a leather pouch that lay spread out on the grass. They included a brush, a small trowel, even a magnifying glass, and a tiny pickax.
“What will you use?” she asked him.
“I have Eve’s set with me too.”
Tess bent down and ran her fingers over the tools. She’d never had a proper set, but she’d always wanted one. That he was offering her his made her want to believe him—that he hadn’t meant to exclude her today. That the kiss had been real too.
No, no, she wasn’t going to think about kissing him. This work they were undertaking mattered more.
“We may not get to use any of those for days.” He spoke from behind her, and when Tess turned back, he swept a hand through his thick dark hair. “This is the part where patience is a virtue.” He grinned. “I’m always short of it, I’m afraid.”
Tess was too, but she was determined to take this opportunity to dig on Fenbridge’s land and do it right. Not for Van Arsdale’s money, though heaven knew they needed it. But more importantly, this was a chance she’d always wanted.
She stood and pointed to the pile of larger shovels and spades. “If we’re impatient, we should help dig. The faster we dig, the sooner we find it.”
He bent to retrieve a shovel. “You’re certain we’ll find treasure.”
“I’m certain,” she admitted. “The size of that mound means something. If it’s not already been looted, we’ll find a hoard.”
“Then let’s dig.” He lifted a shovel out to her.
She reached for it and their fingers brushed. That single touch was like a bit of flint striking that steely part of herself she’d built walls around, threatening to spark it into flame.
Tess had avoided this for years. Avoided gossip. Avoided temptation. But now she would be spending much of her day with this man who made her insides tremble.
Chapter Nine
On the third day of the dig, the weather took a turn. Dom had squinted up one moment into a cloud-filled blue sky, and within an hour, the breeze had grown in strength and storm clouds swept in across the horizon.
“We should begin preparing to cover the dig site,” he called to Tristan, who was on the far side of the trench they’d worked to carve out over the past days. They’d assembled a small but reliable group of men from the village who’d made excellent progress.
Tristan tipped his head up. “We’ll collect the tarpaulins,” he shouted back.
Dom approached to assist. The chandler in Norwich, who’d produced the enormous oilskin coverings, assured them that they’d keep out the rain. It would be the first test of the man’s vow.
As they rushed to stretch the first length of waxed cloth, Tess appeared at the trench’s edge, an enormous basket in her arms.
“I saw the clouds and brought some stakes from Fenbridge’s groundskeeper.”
Each morning, he looked forward to her return from visiting the grumpy nobleman. And each morning, his pulse kicked up like he was a besotted schoolboy the moment she appeared.
“Stakes?”
“To secure the edges of the tarp,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Of course.” Somehow his foresight had extended only to stretching the tarpaulins across the site, but the stakes would be crucial if the wind kicked up.
