Page 70 of Hearts of Locke Hill

Violet cringed and refocused on her even strokes. The plan was to use any tendre Cyril might be carrying for her—although, after the marble fiasco, she wasn’t sure he was doing any such thing—to tease him out of the position of headmaster. Yet one stray moment in close proximity, and she’d all but declared an enduring longing for his presence.

Granted, she’d been belittled by Father, then attacked by a fountain pen, throwing her into damsel-in-distress levels of appalling magnitude. And he’d been right there, wiping her face and holding her chin, and she couldn’t help but wonder …

She gave her head a shake and drew in breath. She needed to kick harder, lengthen her arms—

On Violet’s next stroke, a long, dark shadow moved in the water directly beneath her, stealing her breath in surprise and terror. She pulled up, thrashing, kicking away, trying to gain distance from whatever creature had invaded her pool. A shark. A crocodile. Her foot hit flesh and bone.

The shadow shifted, then burst from the water.

Violet screamed.

Water sluiced off the muscular form of a man. A man withwide, green eyes and nearly black, sopping hair, far too much facial hair, and far too little clothing.

She screamed again, raising her arm and slicing it into the water before her, sending an arc of water over Cyril Burke to rival Hokusai’sGreat Wave.

Cyril shook his head like a dog as the water settled, wiping his fingers over his eyes. “Blast it, woman. You kicked me in the ribs.”

“How dare you!” Violet cried, now treading water, her heart still quaking. “How dare you sneak up on me like that.”

His rather toned arms sifted back and forth through the water, as they were both in the deeper end of the pool. “Sneak up on you? I was only swimming, minding my own business, when your foot collided with my rib cage.”

“I thought you were a crocodile.”

“Acrocodile? Have you lost your mind? I’d no idea you were in here.”

“Oh ho, are you telling me that I entered this pool house, readied myself for a swim, and began taking my laps, and you had no idea I was in here?”

He pushed himself closer, and she pulled away. “I was underwater, swimming along the bottom.”

“Whatever for?” she asked, still upended and struggling to grasp the reality of Cyril Burke treading water before her in this pool, at this school, in this Year of Our Lord 1906. “Who skulks along the bottom of a pool like a … like a gudgeon?”

“Who jumps into a swimming pool without looking to see whether or not it’s occupied?”

“I didn’tjumpin. I entered rather gracefully. And I can’tbelieve you were underwater the whole time I did so. You meant to scare me, and I can think of a hundred reasons why.”

“And you would be a hundred times wrong. I was practicing holding my breath. It’s an exercise I’ve done since I was a boy, as a means of self-control and endurance. It is easier to do along the bottom of the pool, as I am not so easily tempted to come up for air.” He continued to inch toward her, and she continued to inch backward. “And as for scaring you, Miss Whittemore—” Her back bumped against the wall of the pool, and he drew close enough that she could count the water droplets hanging onto the tendrils of his hair. “Of all the people you know in this world, know this: I would be the last one to purposely cause you any sort of distress near, on, orinthewater.”

He held her gaze; the whole while she kept breathing in and out, her hands pressing to the side of the pool along with the soles of her feet.

So. Now she was alone with Cyril Burke in the school swimming pool, having accused him of frightening her on purpose, when in actuality, it made more sense that she’d been startled by his sudden appearance and her imagination had made him out to be, of all things, a giant reptile. In a swimming pool. In Surrey, England. And he was absolutely correct. He would never cause her distress in the water. Not on purpose.

Which was horrible, because that made her absolutely wrong. “What are you doing in here? This is m—” She shut her mouth.Myschool.Myswimming pool. Those were no longer certainties. Had they ever been? She swallowed and lifted her chin. “This ismostirritating.”

“Agreed.”

“A woman should be able to swim whenever she pleases.”

“Agreed.”

“Without wondering if she’ll be met with censure or turned away because of probable scandal.”

“Agreed again.”

“Would you stop agreeing with everything?”

“No.”

She scowled, and he grinned. She froze as he moved toward her, then he shifted to her side, one hand gripping the ledge of the pool wall.