Clive turned to his mystery lady. “Let me give you my waistcoat, miss.”
Her teeth chattered and she had trouble saying, “Non…non, monsieur.It is not necessary.”
“But it is.” He already had the thing off and around her. The act covered the fact that he saw her, once more silhouetted against the sunlight, as God had made her. She was wet, perfectly formed, a naked nymph.
She clutched the edges of his waistcoat and closed her eyes, her cheeks coloring in embarrassment even as she shuddered in her sopping-wet clothes.
“Come, allow me to escort you. Where do you live?”
“I have rooms at the Old Ship Hotel. But you should go home, monsieur. Your daughter needs attention.”
“Annabelle and I are at the Old Ship, too.” Relief swamped his senses. “Let’s go up.”
“They will wonder at our condition.” French, was she? Her accent gave levity to the positive result of their encounter with the elements.
“Indeed!” He laughed at their success and offered his free arm to her to help her navigate the stones and sand. “But I think if we go in together, fewer will decide we are quite mad to have gone for a swim.”
She gave a laugh and looped her arm around his. “I agree. Let’s hurry.”
Chapter Two
Giselle Laurant tookhis arm and strolled beside her rescuer, rejoicing at his quick humor, transfixed by his readiness to save his daughter but also to saveherlife. Up close, he was so devastating. So handsome. His hair was unusual, a light brown with platinum streaks of sunlight. His coloring against the bronze of his skin summoned an appreciation for his undaunted strength and his generosity. Had she seen him before? Where and when could that have been?
She let him lead her up the wooden stairs to the street. Focusing on her relief that the child and she were safe, she smiled that he was so pleased his daughter was unharmed. She knew men who did not bother with the welfare of their daughters…or of their wives, for that matter.
She inhaled, pleased at his graciousness to offer the assurance of his arm, as well as the modesty of his waistcoat. Her newest gown was ruined, but then, she’d have another made. What was a bit of muslin to the value of a child’s life?Or even, yes, my own.
That caused her to smile more broadly at this man. He had not only rushed to save her life, but made haste to preserve her propriety. So then, a lady’s good name was important to him. Another rare but vital quality of any true gentlemen.
And did her other man observe them? She scanned the beach, her heart quickening for just a few beats. She spied no one else, thankgoodness. Her guard did not arise this early in the morning. When she did detect him at his duty, that was usually after noon, when more filled the streets, when he could come upon her easily in a crowd—and stick more closely to her.If only I did not need him at all…
She rubbed her arm. The need for this man was accidental—and she appreciated his protection.
Still, being alone, out in the wide world, protected in her work, was a welcome treat she had so rarely tasted. She could feel normal. And at the moment, she had this unique opportunity to appear like any other woman who walked along the street beside a handsome man. Well, yes, she was soaked with seawater, wrapped in his waistcoat, but allowing herself the pleasure of his escort. How often had she enjoyed the opportunity to admire an attractive man and to murmur her thanks for his rescue and his generosity?
“Mademoiselle? You grin but you shiver. Shall we walk faster?” He stepped closer, his smile warm with satisfaction that matched her own.
“Let’s try!” She nodded, then hurried beside him, frozen and shivering, her gown clinging to her like a second skin.
But the sun seared her gown and heated her body. Beside his towering from, holding on to his muscular bicep, she could not take her eyes from him. She felt no fear. Thought of no trauma. Nor of her work. Only this rare, marvelous creature. Dapper, broad shouldered, with lean hips, he strode with an easy swagger. His coloring gave him a carefree air. His light-brown hair streaked with the rays of the sun made her think of carousels and games of bowls. His pale eyes that shone brightly from his handsome, tanned face seemed more silver than gray. A vision, tall, sleek, easy on the eyes, he took the world as if he owned it all.
He certainly had captured her imagination. She drew in a huge breath and shook away her fascination. He was no one to her and should remain so. She’d fished his young daughter from the sudden fury of the Channel. He would be grateful. That was normal.Furthermore, she was no one to him—and must remain so. She had work to do, and now would return to it. Dallying with a man like a flirtatious chit would only preoccupy her. She had no time for that.
“Are you here in Brighton on holiday?” He led her up the second flight of wooden steps from the beach to the Grand Parade. In his embrace, his daughter nestled beneath his chin. She was calm, smiling, recovered from the near disaster she seemed to have never comprehended.
“Ah,oui. Yes.” He would hear her French accent, if he had not already. She did not try to hide it. That took so much effort. She failed at any disguise, having tried it in France, and had had to flee here to survive. “A few weeks. The sea air draws me.”
“Annabelle and I as well.” They took the steps gingerly. “Tough to climb, eh?” he said as both of them had trouble navigating in sopping-wet clothes.
At the top, they sidestepped carriages and pedestrians, then headed straight across the wide road to the entrance to the hotel. Her time with him ran short. She should rejoice, but once he was gone, she’d feel his lack. He was a man to be treasured. A man one would miss. A man who should be valued. She had known no men like him.
For that reason alone, she had to be free of him.
Inside the reception hall, she stopped to thank him for his kindness to her and began to shrug from his waistcoat. “I’m afraid it is quite ruined.”
“No matter.” He jostled his little girl in his arms and put up a palm. “You need the warmth. Please. Do wear it to your room.”
His warning had her blinking. Then she looked down. She was quite indecent, her body defined by the revealing muslin. “I see.Merci beaucoup,” she murmured as she wrapped the waistcoat more firmly around her torso.
