“Of course, I can swim, but I’m nae... we’re nae...” She gestured helplessly between them.
“Nae what?”
“Nae goin’ to be naked together!” The words burst out like a burst pipe.
His grin was wicked. “Who said anythin’ about bein’ naked? Ye can swim in yer shift.”
“I am nae swimmin’ in me shift!” Even the thought made her face burn. The thin linen would become transparent when wet, clinging to every curve.
“Then swim in yer dress.”
“And ruin it?”
“Then I suppose ye have a problem.” He was already pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a chest sculpted like a god that made her mouth go dry. Scars crisscrossed his skin. Some were thin white lines, others more recent and angry-looking, evidence of the battles that had made him legendary.
Daenae stare. Daenae stare at his chest.
But she stared anyway.
“This is what ye wanted?” she asked weakly.
“This is what I’m askin’ ye to do.” He sat on a fallen log to pull off his boots. “Honor the rules of our game, Iris, or admit ye’re nae a woman of yer word.”
The challenge sparked her temper. “I never said I wouldnae do it.”
“Then what are ye waitin’ for?”
Courage. Sanity. A miracle.
But she’d made a deal, and she’d honor it even if it killed her. Turning her back to him, she began unlacing her dress with shaking fingers.
“Need help?” His voice was closer than she’d expected.
“Nay!” She clutched the dress to her chest. “Just... turn away.”
“We’re married, lass. It’s nae like I havenae seen a woman’s body before.”
“Well, ye havenae seen mine!”
“Nae yet.”
The promise in those two words made heat pool low in her belly. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart. She stripped down to her shift and chemise, draping her dress carefully over a bush. When she turned around, Elijah was already waist-deep in the water, and the sight of him made Iris stop and stare.
Water droplets clung to his broad shoulders, each muscle of his sculpted chest clearly defined beneath sun-bronzed skin. Lush, dark hair slicked back from his face, revealing the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw. The water lapped at the ridged planes of his abdomen, and she could see the powerful muscles of his arms flexing as he moved through the current.
He looked like some ancient Celtic god. Powerful and dangerous and utterly masculine. Every line of his body spoke of strength earned through years of wielding sword and shield, of a man who’d carved his reputation with his own hands. The sight made her mouth go dry and her knees weak in equal measure.
“Come on then,” he called, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Water’s nae that cold.”
And may God help me.
She let out a loud sigh, walking in slowly. She gasped as the cool water hit her legs, her waist, and her chest. The current was gentle but persistent, tugging at her shift and making her acutely aware of how little she was wearing.
“See? Nae so bad.”
Iris flashed him a look in response, continuing to wade in. One moment she was walking carefully on the smooth stones, and the next, her foot slipped and she was falling backward. Strong arms caught her immediately, pulling her against a hard chest.
The hard planes of his chest pressed her closer, and the muscled strength of his thighs bracketed hers, solid and warm even in the cool river water. She could feel the rigid line of his arousal against her hip, proof that he was as affected by their closeness as she was.
