Callum watched her, wondering if she would trust him. They were alone, with no one to intrude. Stripping off his tunic, he waded into the water, never minding that his trews would get wet. He came before her, the water reaching just above his knees and held out his hand.
“I can’t go into the water,” she said. “My gown would be soaked.”
He didn’t pressure her but tilted his head in an invitation to join him. Wariness lined her face, as if she didn’t trust him.
“I’m not certain it would be a good idea. I really am a terrible coward.” She tried to smile, but beneath it, he saw a hint of fear. Possibly fear of the water, but it might be a fear of getting closer to him. Especially after the kiss he’d stolen.
He sent her a slow, sinful smile. Come to me, Marguerite. If you dare.
She gathered her skirts and stood up, eyeing him with wariness. Callum dipped his hand in the water and flicked a splash of water at her. Marguerite let out a light shriek, laughing as the cold droplets rolled down her throat beneath her gown. “Don’t. Really, I shouldn’t.”
He reached into the water and cupped both hands full. Eying her with wickedness, he led the threat hover between them.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
In answer, he sloshed the water toward her, angling it so that it just missed her gown.
She leaped back with her skirts still clutched in her hands. “Enough. I surrender.” But her eyes were laughing.
He emerged from the loch dripping wet, and came to stand before her. Her gaze moved over his bare skin, and there was interest in her eyes. She’d seen him unclothed before, and sensual memories invaded his mind, as he recalled how she'd bathed him.
He brought his wet hands to the jeweled girdle at her waist. She stared back at him, covering his hands with her own while he unfastened it.
Trust me.
Her face paled, but he dropped the girdle upon the grass, waiting for her to make the choice.
“If I were still a little girl, it wouldn’t matter, would it? I could try to swim if I wanted to.”
Callum nodded in reply, moving his hands to loosen the surcoat she wore.
“M-My father never allowed me to try swimming. He told me I wasn’t strong enough, that I might drown.” In her eyes, he saw the war of feelings, as if she were torn with indecision. He drew his hands up her nape, and she shivered before him. With his thumb, he brushed gently against her mouth, as if to tempt her.
“He will be gone for the next fortnight,” she continued, turning her back to him. “To bring back the man who will become my husband.”
Her confession fired up Callum’s jealousy, darkening his mood. He’d come here to fight for her, to show her another fate if she wanted it. He wasn’t about to stand aside and let her wed someone else. Not if he could convince her otherwise.
She drew her hair over one shoulder, baring her throat to him. “Will you help me take this gown off?”
His answer was to rest his hands upon her skin, letting her feel the warmth of him. Slowly he unlaced the saffron surcoat, and helped her lift it away. The gown beneath it was tightly fitted to her arms, and he rested his hands upon her shoulders, awaiting permission. Goose flesh rose upon her nape, and she murmured, “May I borrow your blade?”
Confused, he stepped back and handed it to her. Marguerite took the knife and used it to tear out the stitches that held her sleeves in place. “I didn’t bring scissors, as I sometimes do. But now we can remove it.”
When he hesitated, she raised her arms. “Go on,” she whispered. “But leave my chemise.”
He knelt at her feet, gathering the hem of the gown. As he raised it high, his hands grazed her waist, and over the curve of her breasts. The linen chemise was soft, barely covering her flesh, and he gritted his teeth against the urges rising within him. When she was free of the garment, he couldn’t stop the urge to touch her. While his hands encircled her waist, resting below her breasts, he brought his mouth to the silver chain resting upon her nape. His lips edged the chain, and he drew it out with his fingers, moving the pendant beneath the chemise to nestle against her bare breasts.
A sigh escaped Marguerite, and it was all he could do not to drag her to him, stripping away the last barrier between them. His mind tormented him with visions of claiming her, using his mouth and tongue to awaken her own passion.
She turned to face him, her body shielded by the linen. With her palms upon his chest, his heartbeat quickened. “Teach me to swim, Callum.”
She was playing a dangerous game. Marguerite saw the play of emotions across Callum’s face, and she worried that she’d gone too far. Though perhaps he’d brought her here to enjoy time together in a beautiful place, she had dared to reveal more of herself to him by shedding the outer gowns. Her bare arms attracted his notice, although her chemise covered her body.
He took her hand and led her into the water. It was cold but not unbearably so. With every step, the water grew deeper. Past her calves, to her thighs, and finally, her waist. Her chemise floated within the water, and though Callum continued to walk at her side, she could feel the strain in his demeanor.
He looked like a man who was fighting against himself, and the darkness in his eyes tempted her instead of making her fear him. Already he’d given her a glimpse of the physical heat that was hers for the asking. His kiss had been savage, unrelenting. And he tempted her in a way that no man ever had.
Her hands grew wet, but he didn’t let go. And once the water covered her breasts, she gasped at the sudden drop in temperature.
