“What on Earth are you doing?” In other circumstances, Catherine would have been furious, but in that moment, she was far too mortified to even consider it.
Alaric was not just dripping wet; he was also practically naked. He was completely bare-chested, with water streaming down the muscles of his chest. The droplets ran down him in swift rivulets, drawing her eyes to his breeches.
Catherine turned around, her heart thundering in her chest.He must be mad. Clearly, the accident has addled his brain.She feltan urge to laugh even as some part of her was screaming at her to run.
“Swimming.” Alaric’s voice said from behind her. “Would you hand me that drying sheet?”
As though that explains it,Catherine realized she was turning to find the drying sheet, and stopped herself when she remembered Alaric’s half-naked state behind her.“I think you can get it yourself. We can discuss this... behavior later.”
Catherine tried to sound dignified and stately, but she suspected that the high pitch of her voice somewhat undermined it. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the Duke’s reflection—his bare chest.
Her stomach twisted and turned as though it were a rag being wrung out. She began to walk away, her cheeks so red she was sure they would be able to see it from the house. It was at that moment that she spotted Oliver and Annabelle. Thankfully they were moving away from the lake, towards the house and Catherine prayed they had not seen the Duke.
“Where are you going?” She could feel the pier vibrating beneath Alaric’s footsteps; she could hear the amusement and confusion in his voice. “Why not join me? The water is delightful.”
She sped up. “No, thank you. I would much rather go back to the house.”
“Why?” He was closer; she could practically feel him behind her. “If you cannot swim, I am sure I could teach you.”
“I can swim.” She wondered if she should run, but surely that would only draw attention to the situation.
“Then you should join me.” He must have been only a few paces behind her.
“I am not talking to you while you are in that state of undress,” she called back. “And I am definitely not swimming with you.”
“Why not?” The footsteps halted, and Catherine exhaled a breath she had not realized she was holding.
“Because it is not decent. You are practically... naked.” She gestured toward him without turning to look at him.
“So? Surely it is nothing you have not already seen. After all, we are married.” Alaric’s voice was the very picture of reasonableness and confusion.
Shame and anger rushed through her. He was the one running around half-naked, and he had the audacity to act like she was the one behaving like a madwoman? This man, who had abandoned her, abandoned his child, and then lost his memory? Was he going to act like he had the moral high ground?
She rounded on him, doing her best to look only in his eyes and nowhere else. Given his height, it was not an easy task, butshe was too furious to let it overwhelm her. “And what about everyone else? What about the child currently staying here? What about any passing stranger who happens to be walking by? We may be married, but as far as I know, I am your wife, and we live in a civilized world. One does not simply gallivant around naked!”
“I am wearing breeches.” Alaric gestured to his sodden breeches, and Catherine forced herself not to follow the gesture with her eyes. “Besides, who exactly do you think is going to see me? This is my land. This lake is mine; everything you can see is mine. It is private property; no one should be here except by my express invitation.”
“And you never have farmers or tradespeople come to the house? You do not have unexpected visitors?” Catherine folded her arms across her chest.
“To the house, not the lake.” Alaric shrugged.
“This behavior is reckless, undignified, and utterly immoral,” Catherine hissed.
How can he not see this? How does he not understand just how scandalous this is?
She knew he had lost his memory, but surely he need not be so utterly infuriating about it?
“Swimming in my own lake? Come now, Catherine, a man should enjoy what is his.” He took a step toward her, his eyes glittering mischievously in the sunlight.
She stepped back and shook her head. “You have responsibilities. You are not some schoolboy without a care in the world. You are a duke. You should behave like one.”
“I am not the one who came sprinting down here. I thought... I half expected you to join me.” Alaric canted his head toward her.
Catherine glared at him, appreciating how narrowing her eyes reduced how much she could see. “You mean you hoped.”
“Is hope not the same as expectation?”
“To a madman, perhaps.”
