She laughed at that, a sound of pure exasperation, and waded into the water. Her sharp intake of breath told him she’d felt the shock.
“It’s freezin'!”
“Ye’ll adjust. Come deeper.”
She did, moving with small, cautious steps until the water reached her waist. Then she pushed off and swam toward him with strong, confident strokes. Not the delicate paddling he’d expected from a lady, but smooth strokes. The kind learned from hours spent in the water.
“Ye swim well,” he observed as she reached him.
“Me faither taught me.” Leona floated in the water, her face flushed from exertion. “When I was very small. He said every Highlander should ken how to swim, regardless of what’s between their legs.”
“A wise man.”
“He was.” Something soft and sad flickered across her face. “He used to tell the most ridiculous stories while we practiced. Made up tales about water horses and selkies and ancient kings who could breathe underwater.”
“Tell me one.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“A story. From yer faither.” Murdock moved closer, close enough to see the water droplets clinging to her lashes. “Ye said he was wise. I’d like to hear his wisdom.”
For a moment, he thought she’d refuse. Then a smile tugged at her lips, transforming her face from merely beautiful to radiant.
“All right. But ye have to promise nae to laugh.”
“I make nay promises.”
She splashed him for that, and Murdock found himself grinning as he splashed her back.
Then she was telling him a story about a selkie princess who fell in love with a shepherd, her voice animated, her hands gesturing even as she tried to stay afloat. She acted out different characters, making her voice deep for the shepherd and high and melodic for the selkie.
It was absurd. Charming and completely unexpected.
Murdock floated on his back, letting the water support him as he listened. The tension that had been coiled in his shoulders since the gathering last night slowly eased. Here, in the water, with Leona’s voice washing over him, the world beyond the loch seemed distant and unimportant.
She finished the story with a dramatic flourish, then laughed at her own theatrics. “Told ye it was ridiculous.”
“It’s perfect.” He rolled upright again, facing her. “Yer faither sounds like he was a good man.”
“The best.” Her smile turned wistful. “He loved me maither more than anything in the world. Used to say she was the only person whose advice he trusted above his own instincts.”
They’d drifted closer as they talked. Near enough now that if Murdock reached out, he could touch her. Could trail his fingers along the column of her throat, could cup her face and draw her to him.
He didn’t. Not yet.
“Me faither was the opposite,” he said instead. “Never listened to anyone. Certainly nae to me maither. His word was law, and anyone who challenged it paid the price.”
He shouldn’t have said even that much. The words had slipped out, revealing more than he had intended.
He waited for Leona to press, to ask questions he wasn’t ready to answer. But she just nodded, her expression thoughtful.
“It must have been hard, growin' up in his shadow.”
“It was what it was.” He changed the subject before she could dig deeper
“Ye ken, sometimes the bravest thing ye can do is be gentle when the world expects ye to be hard.”
The words hit closer than she had probably intended.
