It all felt familiar. Dom knew what to tell them, how to phrase it for maximum dramatic effect, and made sure to mention Tess as the one who’d found the buckle. To his shock, the lady sketch artist had already produced a drawing of it, having met with the Van Arsdales the day before.
He wasn’t aware they’d transported the find with them to London.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Prince,” the young mansaid after nearly an hour. “May I call on you again when you make more progress on the dig?”
“Certainly.” Dom took the man’s card and slid it into his pocket.
After the two had departed, Dom approached the wide stairwell to head up to his room and prepare for his departure back to Norfolk in the morning.
“Mr. Prince.” One of the young men who worked at the hotel’s front desk approached. “There’s a note for you from Mr. Harcourt. A messenger delivered it not an hour ago.”
Dom took the envelope from the young man. “Thank you.”
“And there is also the matter of the lady, Mr. Prince.”
“The lady?”
“I advised her to wait in the lounge until you concluded your meeting, but when I checked, she’d departed again.” The young man’s gaze flickered over Dom’s shoulder. “Oh, there she is now.”
Dom knew before he turned. He felt her like a sweet breeze across his skin, even though it made no sense. Then he turned toward The Metropole’s front doors, and she was there.
Tess looked wind-blown and magnificent. A few strands of hair tumbled to her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed as if she’d been walking in the sun.
Dom smiled so wide his cheeks ached.
He barely registered the hotel employee retreating. All his attention was focused on Tess, standing just inside the hotel’s grand entrance.
“Tess,” he breathed, closing the distance between them a few long strides. “How—”
“I came to find you.” She swallowed hard. “I took the train from Norwich.” She clutched her gloved hands togetherin way that told him she was nervous. “I had to see you. Tell you—”
“Let’s sit,” he said, offering her his arm.
She didn’t hesitate to loop her hand around his arm.
He led her toward a quiet corner of the lounge, past potted palms, velvet settees, and well-dressed guests sipping cocktails. Late afternoon light poured in from the tall windows, casting a buttery glow over the gilt moldings. None of it shone like the gleam of Tess’s sun-kissed hair.
They took seats facing each other. Dom leaned forward, forearms on his knees.
“Tell me,” he said softly.
She exhaled. “Priscilla Walcott came to see me.”
His brows lifted. It wasn’t at all what he’d expect her to travel a hundred miles to tell him.
“She... gave me some advice.” Her eyes lit with amusement and something he dared not name until she did. “Very wise advice.”
A hotel staff member approached, no doubt to offer them refreshment, but Dom kept the young man away with a slight shake of his head.
Tess took the moment to slip her gloves off, then clenched them tightly in her lap.
“She reminded me that fear keeps us from joy.” Tess nodded as if speaking the words aloud solidified something in her mind. Then she reached for him.
Dom stroked his thumb across her palm, savored her softness and how her touch always felt so right.
“I don’t want to let it keep me from what’s between us anymore.”
A warm pressure built in his chest—like a fire that burned bright.
