One Week As Lovers (Somerhart 3)

“What do you know about it?” she snapped. “Rumor has it that you’ll marry an heiress and your problems will be solved.”

“Ha.” The smile he offered wasn’t as cold as the one she’d seen last night. It was bitter and rueful. Another revelation. “True. I will marry. And she is an heiress. And we’ll live happily ever after in a castle made of gold, so I may as well help you find your own pleasant ending.”

Cynthia had thought it shocking to wake up and find Nicholas leaning over her as she slept. But that was nothing compared to this. “You’re engaged? You…You’ll marry soon? We hadn’t heard.”

“I’m due back for the wedding in a few weeks. So let’s make this quick, shall we? Up for a fine bit of treasure hunting this morning?” His attempt at humor fell flat. He didn’t sound truly amused and Cynthia couldn’t have laughed if someone had offered her a thousand pounds.

Nick would be a husband soon. And some other woman would be his wife.

Chapter 6

Cynthia’s foot looked narrow and delicate before she pulled a woolen sock over it and stuffed it into a thick-soled boot. Lancaster slid his gaze to her other foot, studying the feminine shape before she could hide it. She might be dressed in servants’ garb, but her toes looked pale and fine.

She wore no stockings today, as Mrs. Pell had whisked them away for mending.

“Are you listening to me?” Cynthia snapped.

“Yes…What?”

“I said you’d best find a sturdier pair of gloves.”

He glanced down at the gloves he held in his hands and shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure this is safe for a lady.”

She heaved a deep sigh and tugged the second boot on. “I’ve been climbing the cliffs for weeks now. I daresay it’s safer for me than it is for you.”

“Still, if you were to fall…No, I can’t allow it.”

Her eyes blazed fire and her lips thinned. Lancaster braced himself for a tirade.

“You…” she started.

He waited a few seconds. “Yes?”

“You…I can’t…Fine. I’ll split the treasure with you fifty-fifty. It’s only fair, I suppose. It’s your land.”

“Do you think that offering a share of the gold—which we likely will never find anyway—will induce me to risk your life?”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Whatever control she’d had over her temper vanished in an instant. “My life has been at risk for months and what have you ever known or cared about it? Mind your own business, Viscount.”

The truth stung, but he shook it off. “I don’t think it needs to be said that this has very much become my business.” He gestured in a wide circle to encompass both his room and his bed. “Every bit of land and property involved in this fantasy of yours belongs to me. So bother your outrage, Miss Merrithorpe.”

Her eyes narrowed even further. Frankly, he’d be surprised if she could still see. Lancaster shifted his weight to provide better balance in case she felt inclined to fly at him, fists at the ready, as she’d done often in childhood.

But perhaps Cynthia had matured. She merely cocked her head. “You said you would help me, and I will hold you to that. ‘Help’ implies assistance, not tyranny.”

My, she actually had grown up. She’d even managed not to raise her voice. Lancaster felt she deserved a reward for that. “Very well, we’ll do this together. But,” he added when her tense mouth slipped up toward a smile. “I may change my mind if it proves too dangerous.”

“We’ll see.” Clearly dismissing his concerns, Cynthia stood, shook out her salt-stained gray skirts, and smiled.

Just like the night before, the force of that smile traveled through him like a thump of sound. His chest tightened.

“What’s wrong?” Cynthia asked.

“Nothing. Are you ready?”

She glanced toward his riding boots and shrugged. “I’m ready. Are you?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”