away their home—
A quiet splash broke off her thought.
Nicole jerked her gaze back to the pond but saw nothing—nothing but ripples spreading out beneath the landing. Someone was in the water.
In a flash, she grabbed her knife from its sheath and jumped to her feet. Dashing behind the tree, she gathered her full skirts tightly against her legs and tucked the excess material between her knees.
Had the Jenkins brothers found her?
She should have known better than to let her guard down. How stupid could she be? Nicole pounded the oak with her fist. She’d grown lax. Let herself feel safe just because Oakhaven sat ten miles from town and rarely entertained visitors. Fool! If Will and Fletcher walked up to the front door and asked for a woman named Nicole, Wellborn would no doubt direct them to the study. Or the pond. Or wherever she happened to be at the time. He had no reason not to.
Peeking around the tree, Nicole frowned. A line of bubbles drew a path across the pond, but no one surfaced. Had it been an animal instead of a man that dove into the pond? It seemed too long for a man to hold his breath. An alligator, maybe? While a gator would be preferable to a Jenkins, she’d rather not confront either one.
She stood behind the tree, debating the merits of hiding versus making a run for the house, when all at once the surface of the water shattered and a man shot up from the depths, his chest breaking the plane of the water as he gasped for breath.
He lingered only a moment in the shallows, lifting his face to the sun, eyes closed, dark blond hair slicked back over his head. Water poured off him in rivulets, plastering the white cotton of his shirt against his torso. A smile touched his mouth, serene and unfettered for a blissful heartbeat before his features tightened again in concentration, and he plunged back into the water.
That was no Jenkins.
Nicole braced her weight against the oak’s support, all ability to breathe having fled her body.
He swam on the surface this time, his powerful strokes driving him across the pond as if he had been fitted with one of the new screw propellers her father found so fascinating.
He reached the landing faster than she could have had she run along the path, and once there, he thrust himself out of the water in a long, graceful push onto the platform before stretching out flat on his back to absorb the heat of the sun-soaked wood after what must have been a frigid swim. It was only April, after all.
Nicole withdrew behind the tree, confident now that hiding was her best option. Only she couldn’t hide from the images bombarding her consciousness. Good heavens, she thought as she pressed her sagging spine into the tree at her back. Who would have guessed that an overly eccentric, obsessive, mechanical scientist could be such a riveting physical specimen?
And that smile. A sigh eased out of Nicole’s lungs. For an instant, a single moment, Darius Thornton had released his fierce drive to conquer the world’s boiler problems and allowed peace to rest upon his soul. Yes, it had been only a moment.
But in that moment, he’d been glorious.
Chapter 10
D arius’s chest heaved as he sprawled on the landing, eyes closed while he tried to borrow heat from the sun. A spring breeze brushed over him, sending shivers across his body, but it was a small price to pay. He’d needed that swim to clear his head. Water relaxed him. Nourished him. It reset his internal compass, helped him focus on what was important. Like his next experiment.
Boiler plates. He’d fashioned two miniature boilers with the boiler plates he’d taken from his collection. Both in relatively good condition. No noticeable corrosion or fractures. Yet the first stood at one-quarter-inch thickness while the second expanded to three-eighths. He’d constructed the experimental boilers with the same number of rivets, the same soldering. Plate thickness should be the only variable. Should be. Yet since yesterday,
A quiet splash broke off her thought.
Nicole jerked her gaze back to the pond but saw nothing—nothing but ripples spreading out beneath the landing. Someone was in the water.
In a flash, she grabbed her knife from its sheath and jumped to her feet. Dashing behind the tree, she gathered her full skirts tightly against her legs and tucked the excess material between her knees.
Had the Jenkins brothers found her?
She should have known better than to let her guard down. How stupid could she be? Nicole pounded the oak with her fist. She’d grown lax. Let herself feel safe just because Oakhaven sat ten miles from town and rarely entertained visitors. Fool! If Will and Fletcher walked up to the front door and asked for a woman named Nicole, Wellborn would no doubt direct them to the study. Or the pond. Or wherever she happened to be at the time. He had no reason not to.
Peeking around the tree, Nicole frowned. A line of bubbles drew a path across the pond, but no one surfaced. Had it been an animal instead of a man that dove into the pond? It seemed too long for a man to hold his breath. An alligator, maybe? While a gator would be preferable to a Jenkins, she’d rather not confront either one.
She stood behind the tree, debating the merits of hiding versus making a run for the house, when all at once the surface of the water shattered and a man shot up from the depths, his chest breaking the plane of the water as he gasped for breath.
He lingered only a moment in the shallows, lifting his face to the sun, eyes closed, dark blond hair slicked back over his head. Water poured off him in rivulets, plastering the white cotton of his shirt against his torso. A smile touched his mouth, serene and unfettered for a blissful heartbeat before his features tightened again in concentration, and he plunged back into the water.
That was no Jenkins.
Nicole braced her weight against the oak’s support, all ability to breathe having fled her body.
He swam on the surface this time, his powerful strokes driving him across the pond as if he had been fitted with one of the new screw propellers her father found so fascinating.
He reached the landing faster than she could have had she run along the path, and once there, he thrust himself out of the water in a long, graceful push onto the platform before stretching out flat on his back to absorb the heat of the sun-soaked wood after what must have been a frigid swim. It was only April, after all.
Nicole withdrew behind the tree, confident now that hiding was her best option. Only she couldn’t hide from the images bombarding her consciousness. Good heavens, she thought as she pressed her sagging spine into the tree at her back. Who would have guessed that an overly eccentric, obsessive, mechanical scientist could be such a riveting physical specimen?
And that smile. A sigh eased out of Nicole’s lungs. For an instant, a single moment, Darius Thornton had released his fierce drive to conquer the world’s boiler problems and allowed peace to rest upon his soul. Yes, it had been only a moment.
But in that moment, he’d been glorious.
Chapter 10
D arius’s chest heaved as he sprawled on the landing, eyes closed while he tried to borrow heat from the sun. A spring breeze brushed over him, sending shivers across his body, but it was a small price to pay. He’d needed that swim to clear his head. Water relaxed him. Nourished him. It reset his internal compass, helped him focus on what was important. Like his next experiment.
Boiler plates. He’d fashioned two miniature boilers with the boiler plates he’d taken from his collection. Both in relatively good condition. No noticeable corrosion or fractures. Yet the first stood at one-quarter-inch thickness while the second expanded to three-eighths. He’d constructed the experimental boilers with the same number of rivets, the same soldering. Plate thickness should be the only variable. Should be. Yet since yesterday,
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