“Well,” she lifted her chin, “is she?”
“By now, I thought you understood.” His eyes—more blue than gray in the afternoon light—glittered. “There’s no one for me,” his deep voice rumbled, “but you.”
Those baby thrushes in her stomach had, apparently, been quietly waiting for just the right moment to burst again into wild dancing.Och, she was in danger. Actually, she’d sprinted straight past danger and was hell-bound for a lit powder keg.
“Bromton—”
“Giles,” he corrected, “when we are alone.”
“Giles,” she said.
He groaned and closed his eyes, looking as if he’d just tasted sugared cream. “Say it again.”
She lifted a brow. “I don’t think I should.”
He lifted a brow. “Don’t make me come over there.”
Shocking images saturated her thoughts—images of her laughing and writhing as the marquess pinned her arms and sunk his weight between her thighs. The sound of water lapping hid her sigh.
“Giles,” she whispered.
One corner of his mouth turned up—wolfish.
Another screech and simultaneous bellow rent the air—this time followed by a loud splash. Katherine leapt to her feet, but before she could dive, strong arms caught her around the waist.
“Julia!” she yelled, straining against Bromton’s protective hold. “Markham!”
Both her siblings surfaced, laughing loudly. With great effort, Markham walked his way to the boat line. Slowly, Julia and Markham made their way toward the little dock, Markham pulling the dinghy in their wake while Julia’s skirts billowed around them like clouds. The maid Katherine shared with Julia emerged from the house, her arms laden with blankets.
“Get out of the water, you ninnies,” Katherine said.
Julia fished around in the water and then lifted out her shoes. “Look, Markham! You’ve ruined them.”
Markham’s lips puckered with distaste. “You should thank me. They are hideous.”
Julia shoved a wall of water in Markham’s direction. Markham dove beneath the waves and came up behind Julia, raining from his coat sleeves. Julia took a deep breath and then plunged beneath the surface, too. Markham stumbled, disappeared, and then they both came up laughing.
“Wait! Wait! Wait” Markham said, holding Julia arm’s length. “Truce.”
“Declare me victor!” Julia shot back, grabbing for the boat’s line.
“Allow me to take care of this.” Bromton winked again and then he let her go. Leaning over the water, he grabbed the rope and secured it to a post.
“Sorry, Jules,” Markham said, “but I think Brom just won.”
Julia emerged dripping and shivering. The maid handed Bromton a blanket for Markham and then wrapped Julia. The maid turned Julia’s shoulders and began marching her toward the house.
“I’ll expect new shoes,” Julia called over her shoulder.
Katherine turned, vacillating between the duty to go and the desire to stay. Then, something cold and wet touched her neck. She squealed and swiveled. Markham shoved what looked like a bundle of muddied weeds into her face. Bromton—a wall of muscle—stepped between them before she could shove Markham away.
“What are you doing?” Bromton asked.
Markham shook out the weeds, revealing the form of a painted wooden ship. “The first ship of my fleet has returned triumphant.”
“Eww, that is disgusting, Markham,” Katherine said over Bromton’s shoulder. “Throw it back.”
“Never!” Markham crowed.
