Page 50 of Hearts of Locke Hill

His brow twitched.

She shook her head and looked away. “You’ve been handed a dear grandmama. Treat her with care, and she will brighten every time you return to her.”

“Would you like to see her?”

She quickly turned back to him. “Pimms?”

He chuckled. “No, my dear grandmama.”

She exhaled a laugh.

He sobered and looked down. “Truly, if you’d like to see Pimms, I’ll show her to you.” He lifted his gaze, searching.

Her chest tightened. “Perhaps. Someday.”

“Perhaps I’d even grant you permission to explore her anytime you wish.” His mouth curved in a smile. “You wouldn’t be trespassing then.”

She rolled her eyes. “Gads. I suppose I deserved that.”

“You did.”

“But did you mean it?”

His cool green eyes dared her to look away. “Perhaps.”

She smothered a smile and turned to the view before them. Narrowing her gaze, she pointed. “There, just there is Locke Tower.”

He stepped closer, his head leaning to follow her finger’s direction. “What am I looking for?”

“Golden stone parapets on that highest right-hand slope.” The scent of limes and something amber-like touched her senses as he drew nearer and oriented himself.

“I think I see it. Near those cypress trees.”

“Yes, you have it.” Her gaze was caught by the fine wool of his jacket, the starched cuffs of his white shirtsleeves, and the graze of dark hairs along the outside of his wristbone to the lower knuckle of his small finger. His hands were that of a man, not the boy she’d learned to waltz with. Same long bones and olive skin but broader somehow. And leaner, in a way she couldn’t define.

He dropped his hand to the iron railing. “That’s not far at all.”

She cleared her throat. “No. A six-mile run from here to there and back.”

His brow rose and he glanced at her. “A run?”

“Or walk,” she said quickly. “Or bicycle. Horse. Canoe. Any way you wish to go, still six miles.” She turned away from the rail and rubbed her forehead as he chuckled.

“That glasshouse there, is that a swimming pool?”

She turned again and nodded at the iron, glass, and stone structure that had caught his eye beyond the garden glasshouses. “Yes, an indoor pool. The water can be heated in the winter. Each girl will take swimming lessons. Even if she’s terrified, I’ll work with her until she learns. We’ve the lake as well. Some find that friendlier, depending on the season.” She knew his thoughts. Her fingers fiddled with the damselfly brooch on her bodice.

“You’re no longer afraid of the water,” he said, as if drawing a conclusion.

“No.” Her pulse picked up as his eyes steadied on hers. “I had an excellent teacher.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, though I’m sure I was an ungrateful student at the time.”

His brow crinkled and he stepped closer. “Ungrateful?”

She dropped her hand from the brooch. “Surly. I was a surly student.”