“If you mean Mr. Prince, that’s him.”
“Mercy, I can understand why they’re all buzzing like hungry bees. And Bill says he’s affable and kind and pays well too.” Sarah turned and eyed Tess thoughtfully. “What do you make of him?”
“I’m still assessing.” Though he was half a field away, Tess felt his gaze on her.
“Do let me know what you decide,” Sarah said cheekily, continuing to watch Dominic’s approach, and when he was almost within earshot, she whispered, “It certainly seems as if he’s decided on you, Tess.”
Indeed, as he stepped closer, his mouth tipped up in one of those grins of his. Though he flicked his gaze down a moment, still smiling, as if amused by how boldly they watched him.
“Good evening, ladies,” he said smoothly as he drew up in front of them.
“Mr. Prince, this is Sarah Bromley. Bill’s wife.”
He took her hand and gave a little bow over it like a nobleman at a ball. “Very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bromley. Your husband is an incredibly helpful man.”
Sarah chuckled. “That’s one way to describe him. He has nothing but approbation for you as well, Mr. Prince.”
“Then he’s very kind too.”
Sarah smiled, clearly charmed, and Tess knew her to be a woman who wasn’t easily taken in. “You must both excuse me. I was meant to get these strawberries to our stall by now, and heaven knows Benedict will have run Bill ragged.”
She turned so that Dominic could not see her and gave Tess a wink.
Tess resisted groaning at her friend’s clear glee at leaving her with a dangerously handsome man. Had Sarah forgotten everything?
“I found you.” He spoke the words quietly, his voice deep, and somehow they echoed in Tess’s chest.
“Yes.” She breathed the word and let something in herself loosen.
He stepped closer, and she didn’t retreat.
The tension had been building between them since the Walcott party. Not a day had passed when she hadn’t thought of kissing him. Not a night passed when she didn’t think of him lying alone in his bed at the inn.
She felt as if she was on the edge of a precipice. At her back was a past she wanted to be free of and regrets she wanted to release. Before her was the most tempting man she’d ever met. A man who could lead to even more regrets if she wasn’t careful.
Chapter Twelve
Half a dozen men assessed Dom as he proceeded down the row of stalls being assembled for the upcoming village fair. Some took his measure, others shot him jealous glances before more lingering longing ones turned Tess’s way.
He couldn’t blame a single one of them.
The simple act of escorting her as she pointed out various items of interest gave him an immense feeling of satisfaction. It was a strange sensation. Rarely did he seek feminine accompaniment for anything as simple as a walk.
Yet having Tess at his side, chatting and brushing against him now and then, was enthralling. He enjoyed her nearness. Her voice. Her clear care and appreciation for others in her village.
He felt a swell of pride at being the one beside her. Perhaps because she hadn’t sought him out or spoken to him for any other purpose than work in nearly a week. He’d been hungry for this—merely spending time with her.
As the sun set and dusk spread over Wiggenstow, he sensed the villagers’ eagerness for the coming bonfire. Everyone seemed to be abandoning the main thoroughfare and moving toward the fields at the far end of town. All except for one gent, who’d passed them twice as they walked and now approached with purposeful strides.
“Pardon me, Tess,” he called, stopping their progress.
“Hello, George. How’ve you been?”
“Very well.” He flicked a look Dom’s way, then immediately focused all of his interest on Tess. His very ardent interest.
“Looking forward to the bonfire?” she prompted when he said nothing more.
“Indeed, I am, but more so if you’d dance with me.”
