Page 51 of Hearts of Locke Hill

He waited, watching her.

She inhaled and exhaled quickly. “And a bit … splashy.”

His gaze warmed, his mouth twitched, and she bit her lip trying to hide her amusement.

“Splashy,” he said, in his slow voice. “NowthatI recall.”

Warmth spread to her cheeks, and he seemed to enjoy watching what was surely a vibrant color change. “Must you watch me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re Edison and I’m an incandescent light bulb.”

His brow rose. “Have you ever stared at one of those? You get red spots in your vision. It’s like looking at the sun. Trust me when I say, Miss Whittemore, that when I look at you, a cantankerous American inventor is the last thing on my mind.”

Her eyes were drawn to his lips, sturdy and a shade warmer than his skin. “What is the first thing on your mind?” She met his gaze once more. “When you look at me?”

His chest moved with a deepened breath.

The abrupt sound of voices entering the classroom behind them shook her, and she stepped away. She gently cleared her throat. “Should we continue with the tour?”

He raised a hand toward the glass doors and the classroom beyond. “By all means.”

Y

10 and 14

“Could you make any more noise?” Cyril ground out behind her.

“We will not be caught.”

“We will if you keep tramping through the brush like an elephant. I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

She whirled on him and grabbed his forearm. “Don’t back out. Please.” Her breaths came heavily, as though her lungs were bound. Her throat burned with emotion. “You promised.”

His brow furrowed and his lips pursed the way they did when he was working math calculations. He breathed a slow breath out his nose. “I did promise. But you mustn’t tramp. Think more like a fox.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. The heat of the summer day beat down on them both.

She nodded. “I will. But we won’t be caught. Father and Mama are in London, and Nanny is ill with a headache. I’ve promised her that I would behave.”

“And she believed you?”

Violet placed her hands at her hips, frowning. “I’ve every reason to be solemn and subdued, haven’t I?” Her eyes burned with the truth. But she would not cry.

Compassion replaced whatever other emotion had crossed his features. “Yes.”

“And your mother knows you’ve taken me for an explore. To get me out of the house. She told us not to hurry.”

He nodded, glancing back at the direction they came from. She could no longer see Kinthwaite, but the home she knew by heart was swathed in black curtains at every window, making it look like it had died too. She hated the black curtains. And Mama’s black dress and her black hair ribbons and everything black. How could the sun shine so warmly when her world had turned so dim? She clutched at her chest, willing her lungs to take in air.

He reached and took the bag she’d slung over her shoulder and pulled the strap over his head. “Come on, then.”

She turned, leading their shortcut.

“Like a fox,” he reminded her, and her steps changed to a lighter, fleeter stride. Only then, with her back to him, did she swipe tears from her eyes, knowing Cyril wouldn’t abandon her.

The lake soon appeared before them, and she was assaulted by memories too recent to be softened by time. The dock, the rowboat overturned on the shore. The soft lapping of tiny waves and the overbright sparkle of noonday sun on still water.

The sound of Daniel’s laughter echoed in her head, distant, like a dream, and then his shouts, his frantic splashes—