Beatrice laughed and hesitantly dipped a toe into the water. ‘Hah!Thatis cold.’
‘There’s nothing for it but to wade in, then go for the dive, get it over with quick.’ Atholl was looking out at the water again. ‘But you’ll need to lose the towel.’
Glancing down her body, she wished with all her might she’d bought the tasteful – well, OK, boring – one piece she’d seen online as it would have covered her up a bit more. Atholl’s eyes were fixed firmly on the clear water dead ahead so she quickly removed the towel and threw it onto the rock.
‘Do it together?’ she said, feeling the warm air on her belly and thighs and a sense of surprise that she wasn’t as mortified as she’d thought she would be a moment ago. Atholl’s hand slipping around hers stilled her breath and she stumbled taking her first steps into the shallow water.
‘You all right?’ Atholl asked, his eyes briefly flitting to Beatrice’s.
‘This coral’s so sharp, it really hurts your feet.’
‘I know. You get used to that too. I swam here a lot as a bairn and I don’t remember it bothering me.’
Beatrice tried to admire the beautiful bay she’d dreamt of swimming in since she saw it from the top of Rother Path on the first day of her trip but her nerves were screaming from the pain on the soles of her feet, the cool water – now up to her knees – and the warm reassurance of Atholl’s hand still enclosing hers, squeezing her fingers gently and steadying her in response to every stumbling step she took.
‘It’s not really coral, you know?’ he said.
This sharpened her mind. ‘It’s not?’
‘No, it’s bashed up ancient algae.’
‘Oh.’
‘No’ as romantic as coral, is it?’
Beatrice shook her head and laughed. ‘It’s still pretty,’ she said, but the words were taken by an involuntary squeal as the water reached her belly. ‘Sheez! It’s cold, s’cold, s’cold!’
Her free hand flapped in the air as though she could lift herself above the water and she gritted her teeth. Atholl laughed heartily, grimacing too, as the water wrapped around his waist.
‘It’ll pass, just hold on,’ he said, turning to face her, letting go of her hand and instead clasping her forearms in his palms. ‘You all right?’ he asked, still baring his teeth with every gentle wave that lapped around his taut stomach. ‘It really is freezin’. Yur mad tae want tae swim.’
‘Why did you say yes, then?’ she said, shivering but forgetting her shyness and grinning, and all the time aware of the broad expanse of Atholl’s pale chest just a touch away should she dare let her hands do what they wanted. Keep your eyes on his, she told herself.
‘Because you wanted to swim, of course. And you’re on holiday and it’s a beautiful day so youshouldswim,’ he said with a shrug, his hands still wrapped gently around her arms. ‘We should just go for it,’ he said, feet rooted to the spot. ‘Dive under the water, I mean,’ he added quickly with another laugh, but neither of them showed any intention of breaking their connection to plunge beneath the cool, clear water.
Beatrice glanced down at where he touched her skin. ‘I’ve got goosebumps,’ she said, and in an instant Atholl responded, running his hands up and down the length of her arms to warm her and letting his eyes, at last, fall across her neck and linger over her body. She definitely wasn’t imagining it this time.
Saying nothing, she let him look.
Knowing they’d have to speak eventually, Beatrice found herself weakly mumbling something about never having bathed in British waters before but Atholl spoke over her.
‘No, you go,’ she urged.
‘I was saying how bonny you look today.’
‘Oh.’
‘Which you do. Very.’
Warmth, nothing but warmth, flooded her chest. Things like this didn’t happen to her. Handsome, strapping Scotsmen with Highland accents like flowing water over rocks didn’t whisk her away to swim in secluded summer bays, or gaze into her eyes like they were drowning in them, and they certainly didn’t compliment her on her looks.
‘You’re allowed to just say thank you,’ he laughed.
She released the breath she’d been unwittingly holding and laughed too in spite of herself. ‘OK, thank you.’
‘Can’t have you squirmin’ and turnin’ blue over every compliment you’re given.’
‘I’m not really used to compliments.’
