Page 110 of Hearts of Locke Hill

“I have much to say, but what have you done to my father?”

He looked over to Hugh and his wife. Mrs. Whittemore was speaking gently to the man as she patted his arm. Hugh paused, dropping his head. As his wife continued forward, Hugh reached and took her by the hand, pulling her near him. He spoke earnestly, though his words were indiscernible from this distance. The couple gazed at one another. Tenderly.

“What, in the name of the Jolly Roger, did you do to myfather?”

Anne Whittemore glanced wide-eyed in their direction, having heard her daughter’s not-so-quiet question, and pulled a chuckling Hugh farther along the lake’s shore.

“Nothing,” Cyril said, turning back to Violet.

Violet pointed. “That is not nothing. They were … they were …flirting!”

“Oh, that. I can’t be sure. We spoke earlier, and—”

“When earlier?”

“As soon as I arrived from London.”

“But you came straight to find me.”

He smiled and took a step toward her. “I came straight to find youafterI spoke with your father.”

Indignation flashed in her eyes, and he took another step closer, reaching for her hand and drawing it into both of his. The action pulled her half a step closer, and she eyed him warily.

He didn’t yield, but he kept his words gentle. “I met with your father first because I wanted to be certain I could move forward with as little resistance as possible.”

“Because he doesn’t want me to be headmistress,” she said, her eyes becoming glassy. “And you’re going to give up the position.”

He paused.

She bent down and retrieved their marbles off the ground. Standing back up, she held out the taws. “They’re yours.” She flicked away a tear and braved a smile. “You won them, fair and square.”

Frowning, he reached for them, his fingers brushing over her palm, the shudder of sensation giving him courage. In a single move, he strengthened his grip around her hand, encasing the marbles in her slim fingers, and pulled her to him, his other hand coming to the back of her neck. Nearly nose-to-nose, he brushedhis thumb along the tendrils of her hair, over the silky skin of her nape. Her eyes closed, her quick exhale warm on his jaw.

“I don’t want the marbles,” he growled.

She opened her eyes. “You don’t?” She swallowed.

He shook his head slowly, brushing the tip of her nose with his once. Twice.

“What do you want?” she asked, her gaze lowering to his mouth.

He leaned toward her ear. “Not marbles,” he whispered. He kissed the tender spot behind her ear and her chin lifted. “Notelements.” He kissed her nose and then her other perfect ear, breathing in the scent of her. “Not thimbles or acorns.”

He heard her catch her breath, and he smiled at that. He kissed her temple. Then her cheek. He slid his thumb beneath her stubborn, regal, luminous jaw, and tipped her face up, meeting her dream-soaked gaze with his. “I want nothing less than this.”

He took her clever mouth with his.

“This,” he murmured against the sweetness of her, “for all of time.”

She softened beneath his touch, returning his kiss, and the part of him that was still able to think counted silently.One … two … three—

She pulled away from him with a gasp. “You spoke to my father.”

Slowly, he grinned. “I said that, yes.”

She became breathless. “And it wasn’t about the school.”

He shook his head.