She swallowed to dislodge the lump in her throat, but her voice still emerged as a croak. “Sir Gideon, what’s wrong?”
“I saw you heading down here.” He ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it into beguiling untidiness. “I wasn’t sure of the state of the cliff edge.”
It hardly hurt to smile now. Just a slight ache. A glimpse in her bedroom mirror before she’d come outside had revealed a face she finally recognized as hers. “So you rushed to my rescue again.” She tamped down a twinge of forbidden pleasure that he’d come seeking her.
He made a noncommittal noise in his throat. “You’re looking better.”
“
I’m feeling better.” She fiddled nervously with her mother’s pearl ring and tried to think of something clever to say. Nothing came to mind. Hard to recall she’d been the toast of Bath society. Sir Gideon made her act like a gauche schoolgirl.
“I’m glad.” That half smile appeared. Odd—disturbing—how familiar and dear it was.
A charged silence fell. She knew she devoured him with her eyes. What made no sense was that he seemed to devour her in return. Then it was as if he recalled his resolve to keep his distance.
“Well, my apologies for disturbing you.” He sounded stiff, awkward. “As you’re in no immediate danger…”
“I’ll be careful.”
She wished she could make him stay. Absurd when they were strangers, but she’d missed him in the last days. To her chagrin, Sarah found herself blushing, as though she spoke her foolish yearning aloud.
She waited in tense misery for him to forsake her to loneliness. But he took a step closer and gestured to the glorious view. The sea was blue and calm today. The waves played like soft music under their conversation. “It looks gentle, but don’t mistake its peril.”
“I can hardly resist exploring. I hope you don’t mind. Penrhyn has such fairy-tale charm.” Her instant affinity for this place had only strengthened. Each night, she went to sleep in her paneled corner bedroom listening to the sea. “Like La Belle au Bois Dormant.”
Again that half smile. Her poor, longing heart skipped a beat every time she saw it. “On my honor, there are no sleeping princesses here, Miss Watson.”
“Perhaps a prince?” she asked lightly, then regretted not keeping her mouth shut.
His expression closed, became remote. “No princes either.”
She waited for him to storm off as he had from the library the last time she’d attempted to share more than platitudes. But he remained where he was, frowning down at the ground.
Eventually, she broke the uncomfortable silence. “What are your plans for the property?”
His eyes were guarded as they focused on her, but to her surprise, he answered readily enough. “There’s potential for the estate to be profitable. It was once. The woods contain good timber and while the land isn’t much use for crops, it will support sheep. Most of the skilled men have gone, but we could set up a fishing fleet again. First I mean to reopen the tin mines.”
“Tin?” She leaned back on her arms. She still wasn’t used to having the full use of both arms. Her wrist gave the occasional twinge, but it was almost back to full working order.
“Yes.” He moved close enough to raise one booted foot onto the far end of her bench. He rested one arm on his thigh and bent toward her. Her skin prickled with awareness, and her breath became shallow and choppy. She prayed he didn’t notice. “The land is littered with worked-out diggings, but there’s still ore to be found. The sea and tin have always kept the Trevithicks.”
He spoke with an odd lack of involvement, but she wasn’t convinced he was as unemotional about his home as he wanted her to believe. She’d seen his face when he glimpsed it for the first time upon his return. “Will you restore the house?”
To her astonishment, a glint lit his dark eyes. “I’ll demolish it and build a modern villa.”
Shocked, she jumped to her feet. “That would be an act of unforgivable vandalism.”
He laughed softly. “Just teasing you, Miss Watson.” To her regret, he straightened and shifted out of reach. “I’ve remarked your predilection for Penrhyn.”
Her color rose, and she curled her hands at her sides. “I can’t believe you don’t care. The house needs to be loved.”
The more she saw of Penrhyn’s master, the more she believed that was true of him too. How she wished she could restore him to joy. But the last days had made it apparent that he regarded her as a duty and nothing more.
“It’s only bricks and mortar,” he said mildly.
“You’ll feel differently when you have children,” she said fiercely, even as she flinched to contemplate him marrying another woman.
The brief moment of levity evaporated. His voice was terse. “I have no plans to marry.”