Page 72 of Hearts of Locke Hill

“What did you mean, tickling me like that?” she whisper-yelled at him. “We could’ve been seen together!”

He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. “I needed you to hurry. A person needs air.”

“I thought you practiced holding your breath forself-controlandendurance.”

“Yes, well somebody wasstandingon my self-control and endurance.”

She stepped to him and poked him in the chest, forgetting that he wore no shirt. Distracted for the slightest moment, she blinked and refocused. “Do you know what would’ve happened if she’d realized I was hiding you under the water?”

“She would’ve rung for the constable, and you would be charged with attempted murder.”

She scowled. “This is not funny.”

He stepped even closer, his gaze solemn. Then he lifted his hand and pushed her shoulder.

She gasped as she lost her balance. Then she squared herself and shoved both his shoulders. His bronzed, lean, muscular shoulders. He teetered back, a smile at the corner of his mouth.

He crouched andsurged. Violet leaned back and kicked and splashed to evade him, laughing uselessly, but his arms came around her, pinning her limbs, then they were both pushing up through the air and coming down sideways onto the water with a great splash.

They resurfaced, chuckling, sputtering, and then stilling. Cyril still held Violet, but her hands were on his chest, and their noses nearly touched. They stayed like that for what seemed like ages, catching their breath, not meeting each other’s gaze but certainly focused.

For Violet, the room seemed to sway, tilting her toward him.

“You should leave first,” he said. Then he cleared his throat and let her go.

Violet felt as if she were a jellyfish just released into the water. Her limbs didn’t seem to want any direction after being held by Cyril Burke.

“Who knows you’re here?” he asked.

She blinked and gave her head a little shake. “Um.” She swallowed. “Mrs. Cole. And Mrs. Penhurst. And a maid, it would seem.”

He shook his head. “No one knows I’m here. You leave first. It makes more sense that I would come on my own for a late swim if I’m spied leaving later.”

She leaned into the water toward the pool’s steps. “Later? How long will you stay?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Long enough to avoid any speculation.”

She nodded and turned, taking a step out of the water. Then she paused, glancing behind her. He had turned so as not to watch her exit. “May I use one of your towels?” It seemed a personal thing to ask.

“Yes, of course. And, Violet?”

She turned back, her heart jumping at his use of her name. “Yes?”

“You’ve become an excellent swimmer.”

She smiled, though he couldn’t see it. “You noticed?”

He chuckled. She continued to her things and quickly toweled off with shaky hands. She donned her robe and slippers and tiptoed to the door.

“Violet.”

She paused.

He was watching her, arms folded on the edge of the pool, his dark lashes in gorgeous wet clumps.

She swallowed. “C-Cyril?” Dash it, her voice was too trembly. Likely because she hadn’t spoken his name aloud in a decade.

“That was fun,” he said, his voice deep.