And yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself from wanting more of him either. This closeness that felt so right even as a far-off warning bell pealed inside her.
“We should go back.”
“Tess, if I said something amiss—”
“You didn’t.” Reaching up, she drew her fingers along the hard line of his jaw. “But let’s go home.”
On the short carriage ride back to Wiggenstow, Dom told himself that he had to tread more carefully with Tess’s feelings. She’d told him what this would be. She’d laid down the rules and boundary lines of what would be between them.
It had always been enough for him in the past, but now it wasn’t nearly enough. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment, didn’t know whether it had begun when she’d stormed into Lady Goddard’s library, but somehow, at some point, everything had changed.
Dom could no longer imagine a future day, week, or even a year of his life that didn’t include Tess.
He told himself to take what she offered as the gift it was. A few days or weeks with her was a bounty.
Yet no matter how much he told himself to keep to her parameters, to enjoy what she gave him, and focus the rest of his mind and energy on the reason he’d come to Norfolk in the first place, he couldn’t deny that something inside him had altered.
They made the journey in silence. She seemed pensive too.
Dom feared they’d part ways in Wiggenstow, and he wouldn’t see her again until the dig resumed the next morning, weather willing.
But as the road wound toward the village, she turned to him on the narrow cart’s seat.
“Will you come back to the cottage with me?”
“Of course.” Dom felt her gaze on him as she studied his profile before he tipped a grin her way. “I’d like that.”
Any opportunity to spend time with her, he’d take.
“I haven’t had time to take a proper look at Tristan’s notes from yesterday’s work at the site. I thought perhaps the three of us could make a plan for the coming week.”
“Tristan won’t be there,” he told her. “He mentioned a trip into King’s Lynn with a young lady.”
“I see.” Tess smiled and then shook her head. “Did he mention who?”
“A Miss Bromley, I believe.” Dom wasn’t entirely certain that Tristan would want his sister to know that detail, but he’d only asked Dom not to mention it to Bill Bromley.
By the time they arrived at Wiggenstow, their clothes were damp from a light drizzle that followed them back from Castle Rising.
“We’ll have to light the fire. Mrs. Wells is visiting her sister in Norwich.”
Dom took the initiative and had fresh fire flaming to life within a few minutes. When he turned back to Tess, brushing off his hands, he found her standing near the window, staring out with a fretful look.
“I don’t know why he doesn’t simply marry her,” she said quietly. “If he breaks her heart again, Bill will surely have his head.”
“Again?”
Tess turned back to him, her expression pinched with worry. “Two summers ago, they had a... romance. I’d never seen Tris so happy, and Justine is lovely and clever and kind. I expected him to offer for her.” She shook her head. “Instead, he crushed her by ending things abruptly.”
“Was there a falling-out?”
“No, Tristan says he’s not the marrying sort.” She turned back to the window after that declaration.
Dom suspected she thought the same of him. Hell, he’d told himself something akin to it for most of his life. Change was a fearful thing, especially when there was no promise that all would be well in the end.
“If he’s with her today, then perhaps he’s found the courage to be a different sort.”
Tess approached him, coming to stand with him near the fire. “I hope so,” she said with a wistful little tinge of longing in her tone. “I want to see him happy again.”
