He had always excelled at swimming, and that Deirdre did, too, only heightened his esteem of her. One day, he felt certain they would enjoy many outings to swim together, aye, and then neither of them would wear any clothes at all?—
“Are you ready for the race, O’Toole?”
Conor had come up behind Liam to clap him on the shoulder. His broad smile telling Liam that he was reveling in his role of conducting this latest test since Ronan had remained at the stronghold to see Fergal and Roy off to their respective clans.
“Aye, ready to win and be done with this day’s events so I can claim my bride,” he said loud enough for Deirdre to hear, while his opponent’s stance stiffened.
Darragh turned around slowly to face him even as Conor stepped between them to stave off any trouble, though Liam was tempted to fell Darragh again to his knees at the contempt in his dark eyes.
“Cian was right, your arrogance sickens me as well, O’Toole.Deirdrewill decide who she marries, remember? You can call her your bride as often as you wish, but that doesn’t mean you will be the one to claim her.”
“Aye, so I will decide!” Deirdre interjected as she glanced at her brother. “Conor, let’s start this race and have done with it.”
She appeared flustered standing there with her feet already in water, and she was shivering, which told Liam the mountain-fed lough was cold.
He couldn’t help but notice that her nipples had hardened, too, beneath the flaxen-colored fabric of her shirt, Liam feeling the same tightening in his lower body that made him draw a deep, steadying breath.
Deirdre looked so fetching, he longed to pull her into his arms and kiss her again—and he wasn’t the only one staring at her.
Darragh’s gaze fixed upon her breasts made Liam clench his fists again and stride into the ankle-deep water to stand next to her, Darragh muttering a curse and joining them.
The wind had picked up and rippled across the lough, the early afternoon still sunny though heavy gray clouds wereforming to the west. Deirdre had tied her long hair back with a leather strip, and now that Liam stood so close to her, he saw smudges beneath her eyes that worried him.
She lacked the spirited energy she had displayed for much of the day, an air of resignation about her from the slight slump of her shoulders that made his heart go out to her.
Deirdre had made it quite clear she wasn’t happy about having to choose a husband this day, and Conor had said she knew nothing about the contest before that morning. Liam guessed Ronan must have had his reasons for wanting her to wed so quickly—ah God…
Liam’s gaze fell to her abdomen even as he felt some shock for not considering that her father’s haste was due to an indiscretion she had committed…and that she might be with child, no, no, surely not.
Conor had spoken of her suitors’ eagerness to make a marriage alliance with the O’Byrnes, which Ronan had stated as well in his invitation delivered by messenger to Imaal, so that must surely be the reason?—
“What are you staring at, O’Toole?”
Relieved in spite of his lingering suspicion to see the spark of indignation in Deirdre’s eyes, Liam ignored her query and glanced out over the lough.
“The wind will be against us?—”
“Does that make you worry I will best you?”
“Not at all, just an observation. The lough is narrower from here to…over there,” Liam said as he pointed to a distant spot while Darragh grunted next to him.
“So now you want a shorter course? I say we swim to those pines directly across.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Deirdre agreed with Darragh, who threw Liam a smug look. “Conor, will you just stand there or start the race?”
“Aye, go on with you!” Conor shouted with some exasperation, Deirdre lunging at once into deeper water and diving beneath the surface.
Darragh right behind her, though Liam waited to see her emerge and begin to swim with vigorous strokes before he, too, forged out to where the lough was deep enough and dove underwater.
The water even colder than he had imagined, Liam surfaced to drag in a deep breath and set out swimming in Darragh’s wake while Deirdre was already lengths ahead of both of them.
By God, the woman could swim! Liam found himself wishing he was still on shore where he could just watch her, she was so skillful as she cut through the water, her arms and legs in perfect rhythm—but then there would be no race.
Focusing instead on Darragh, it took Liam only a few moments and he had overtaken his opponent, who cursed at him and then sputtered from sucking in water, which made Liam laugh and then start to sputter, too.
That momentary lapse slowed his pace and allowed Darragh to forge ahead until Liam caught up with him again, the two of them jockeying for position with Deirdre still ahead—or was she?
Liam lifted his head to look around him as Darragh once again swam past, furiously kicking his legs that seemed no worse for his limp, but Liam couldn’t see Deirdre anywhere.
