“Are you tired, dear?” Letty fretted. “You’ve overtaxed yourself on my behalf?—”
“I was referring to Mrs. Pearce.”
“Oh.” Letty’s lips quivered. “She has taken a rather keen interest in you.”
“If she invites me one more time to her ‘Ladies of Quality’ meeting—which, I’m told, spends its time discussing all those who don’t belong to the group—I shall throw myself over a bridge,” Gigi vowed.
Letty laughed. “If you plan on getting soaked, I have a better suggestion. Would you like to be the first to try the bath? You still have a half-hour before your sister-in-law comes to fetch you.”
She gestured at the pool, which the village stonemason had restored to its former glory. The limestone basin had been scrubbed clean and leaks in the lining patched and filled. The pipes had been opened, and water filled the long rectangular pool, steam drifting lazily toward the skylights above. The spectacular scene was completed by the pristine columns and relief.
“I was hoping you would offer,” Gigi said gleefully. “I brought a bathing suit with me.”
“Enjoy yourself, dear. You’ve earned it.” Letty patted her cheek. “None of this would be possible without you.”
While Letty went to conquer her to-do list, Gigi changed into her bathing suit. The ensemble consisted of two pieces: a navy, knee-length flannel tunic with long sleeves and a pair of pantalettes that extended to her ankle. The top and bottom were decorated with jaunty yellow ribbon rosettes and ruffles at the cuffs and hem. Returning to the pool, Gigi eagerly descended the wide steps that led into the water. She made a sound of delight as warm, silky water engulfed her.
Unfortunately, when she tried to swim, her heavy costume bogged her down, and she had to satisfy herself with prancing along the length of the pool. After a while, she grew tired of the restriction and yearned to move more freely. She was an excellent swimmer. As a girl, she’d snuck off to swim in the stream on her family’s estate, wearing just her chemise. Of course, there’d been no one to see her…but who was here to see her now? The spa was closed, and Letty wouldn’t care if she removed her pantalettes.
Getting out of the pool, Gigi peered around furtively before untying the flannel pants and stepping out of them. They made a rude sound like passing wind as they fell to the ground, and she snickered. Feeling a hundred pounds lighter, she went to the deepest side of the pool and dove in. She cut cleanly into the water, hardly making a splash. Although the tunic was restrictive, she could at least move her legs, propelling herself through the water. She did a few laps, exhilarated by her newfound freedom. When she got tired, she turned over onto her back and floated. Gazing up at the rising columns and flickering wall sconces, she lost herself in a daydream.
She was a Byzantine princess, enjoying a bath. Unbeknownst to her, one of the Varangian guards—Viking warriors who served as mercenaries for the king—was spying on her bathing. She experienced a frisson of excitement at being secretly admired. One day, he would step out from behind a column and say in his deep, gravelly voice, “I have been waiting to declare myself to you, princess…”
Her pulse thrummed as the star-crossed lovers’ romance unfolded in her head. Every day, they would meet at the bath. Then, one day, they would share a kiss…
Suddenly, a face came into her view.
She blinked…but the Viking was still there.
His wild-as-the-sea eyes glinted down at her as he flashed a wicked smile.
“Well, if it isn’t the water nymph,” he said.
Conrad’s annoyance faded the instant he saw the young woman in the pool. He recognized her immediately: she swam like he imagined a naiad would. Even hampered by a bathing suit, she moved gracefully through the water…although, oh ho, it appeared her legs were unencumbered. As he stalked her through the columns, he caught the flash of her long, slender limbs.
By Jove, she has a fine pair of legs.
What an unexpected treat this was. He’d been looking for a stubborn spinster and instead found a nubile, half-clothed nymph. Was the girl a servant here? Sneaking in a swim while her employer was away?
Then and there, Conrad reversed his prior decision to avoid her. Bedding her was clearly a superior strategy. Once he had her, his interest would wear off, the way it had with other lovers. This woman was like any other, one who might prove a pleasant diversion during his hopefully short visit to this godforsaken village. He would invite her to supper and back to his room at the inn. When she flipped over, floating gracefully on her back, he made his move and went to the edge of the pool.
“Well, if it isn’t the water nymph,” he said.
Her eyes, the same vivid violet as they’d been in his filthiest fantasies, widened. The next instant, her exquisite legs vanished from view with a splash. She stood, staring up at him.
“What in heavens are you doing here?” she asked.
Oh ho, again. His nymph did speak. Her voice was as beautiful as the rest of her…and, he registered with a frown, cultured. Her accent was undeniably the product of generations of breeding, the kind that elocution lessons could not buy. He knew this because, to please his papa, his mama had tried desperately to polish up her accent. She’d succeeded to some degree, but certain vowels always betrayed her. His stepbrothers had mocked her, saying she sounded like a shopgirl.
“I said, what is your purpose here?”
If this young lady’s accent hadn’t betrayed her origins, then her expression would have. Even though she was standing in a pool dressed in a wet tunic, her damp tresses tumbling down her back, she carried herself like a duchess.
“You talk,” he murmured.
“And you, sir, apparently do not answer questions,” she retorted.
Yes, a duchess through and through.
