Page 67 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
They went into the boathouse together.
He shivered. The space was exactly as he recalled it—the roof was high overhead and the place smelled of damp creosoted wood. He breathed in and looked around.
“It doesn’t seem that tumbledown,” Emmeline stated.
“No, it doesn’t,” Andrew agreed. He frowned, wondering if the notion that it was unsafe had been Uncle’s doing, started to prevent other people from coming in to find what he knew was hidden there. “The map showed a mark in the centre,” he added with a frown.
“Then, let’s go to the centre,” Emmeline declared.
“Where?” They would need to measure the building and calculate where the centre was, and they did not have much time before it went dark.
“It should be there,” Emmeline answered briefly, pointing to a space about four paces from them.
“How do you know?”
“It’s under the central beam,” Emmeline said, “and opposite the door.”
Andrew blinked in surprise. “Clever.”
Emmeline blushed. “I should hope so,” she said primly.
They both laughed. Andrew walked with her to the centre of the room.
“You know,” he said as they reached it. “I won’t be sorry if we haven’t found the treasure. I’ve found my treasure already.” He gazed at her, his heart swelling with love. This love was a treasure, more precious than gold ever could be.
“Oh, Andrew,” she murmured. “You are my treasure.”
“You are mine.”
He stepped over and wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he hugged her tight against him. The ache of desire that struck him when he embraced her earlier was replaced with deep, heart-melting tenderness, an indescribable need to keep her safe. He breathed in the scent of her hair and kissed her cheek.
Emmeline moved closer, nestling against him and his heart filled with so much care and warmth that it seemed as though it would surely burst. He held her close and for a moment he forgot about everything. There seemed no reason to look for treasure when all he wanted was right there in the span of his arms.
A sound in the corner, a rustling noise, made him step back. “A rat,” he said after a second.
Emmeline shuddered. “I hope it isn’t coming to find us.”
Andrew laughed. “They don’t find you,” he said, grinning at her frightened face. “But let’s hurry. We might find the rat.”
Emmeline laughed. “Let’s hurry.”
He had brought a shovel with him from the garden shed and he reached for it and started to dig. When he was perhaps a foot down, his wrists jarred as the shovel grated on something solid. He gaped at Emmeline.
“There’s something in there,” he said. He stared at her in amazement and disbelief. He had not truly expected to find anything. “Perhaps it’s just a piece of wood,” he added, laughing at himself. There was no treasure buried on the estate at Rilendale Manor. It was impossible.
“Let’s have a proper look,” Emmeline declared.
Andrew shrugged. “Very well.”
He started to scrape the damp earth off the object he had found. It was indeed something wooden, but if it was just a plank or some part of the boathouse, he would have expected that it would be a bit longer. The object he was uncovering was little more than a foot long.
“It’s a box,” Emmeline declared. “It really is.” Her eyes were wide.
Andrew smiled. “You seem sure there really is a treasure here at Rilendale.”
“There really are such things as buried treasure,” she retorted. “So why not here?”
He laughed. “You’re right.”
