She’d come back tomorrow, and every day afterward for the month they were to remain in Brighton. How silly Eloisa was! Despite her cousin’s dire warnings, no harm had been done this morning. Now Lucy had had her swim without all of Brighton erupting in a scandal, perhaps she could coax Eloisa to—
“Oh!” A shocked cry tore from Lucy’s lips. God in heaven, what was that? Something had brushed against her leg. Seaweed? No, it felt like…it felt like…
A creature of some sort had taken hold of her foot! For one terrified moment visions of enormous octopi swam through Lucy’s head, but no, it wasn’t an octopus. That was impossible, because this creature had wrapped its fingers around her ankle. Octopi didn’t have fingers, only tentacles.
It wasn’tsomethingthat had grabbed her foot.
It wassomeone.
A man, judging by the size of the hand. A man, and perhaps a murderer, because whoever he was…
He was trying to pull her under.
“Let go!” Lucy kicked out and her foot connected with something hard and spongy at the same time.
“Oof!” There was a pained grunt. He dropped her ankle and Lucy tried to kick away from him, but the next thing she knew he’d grabbed a handful of the wet linen at the neck of her bathing costume and flipped her over onto her back. He wrapped an arm under her neck, dragged her body on top of his, and…
Dear God, he was enormous! His arm, corded with muscle, was like a vice against her windpipe, and his hard chest was at least the twice the width of her back. She kicked out wildly, but just when she’d managed to squirm free he hauled her back against him and wrapped one long leg around her thighs. “Stop squirming!”
Lucy’s mouth fell open in shock. An enormous man had just appeared from the depths of the ocean and wrapped his arm around her neck. This wasnotthe time to stop squirming. “Let go! You’re choking me!”
The arm around her neck loosened at once, but instead of letting her go he anchored his palm under her chin and tilted it up, so her face was away from the water and her head tipped back against his shoulder. “You’re all right, lass.”
Lass?Was her murderer Scottish?
“Keep still, and we’ll be on the beach in no time.”
There was no mistaking that lilt—not when his deep, soothing voice was right next to her ear. That and the calm authority in his tone made Lucy pause just long enough for the worst of her panic to recede. She let her limbs go loose, and her body relax against his.
She felt more than heard an approving rumble come from his chest. “Aye, that’s better.” He unwrapped himself from her lower body and began to kick toward the shore, his long legs slicing through the water with ease. “You’ll drown us both if you thrash about.”
Drown?Oh, no. Surely, he didn’t think—
“There’s a good lass. I’ve got you.”
But of course, hedidthink it.
Dash it, why should he jump to such a conclusion? Just because a lady chose to have a swim…alone, that is, in the dark, before the sun had risen…
Very well, itwasa trifle unusual, perhaps. There wassomechance, just a tiny one, he’d mistaken her shout of joy as a cry for help. He must have seen her from the beach, or perhaps from the low rock wall. From there it might have looked as though the waves were dragging her down each time she dove under.
This poor gentleman had thought—not without reason, she had to admit—she was drowning, and he’d dived in to rescue her.
Lucy let out a low, despairing moan. Goodness, what a tangle.
“There, it’s all right now,” he murmured, clearly mistaking her moan of embarrassment for a terrified whimper. “We’ve made it to the beach.”
“Yes, yes, so we have. Oh, no! There’s no need to—”
He brushed her feeble protests aside and rose from the water with her in his arms. “Yes, there is. You’ve had a shock.”
She had, indeed, though not how he supposed. Still, there didn’t seem much point in objectingnow. He’d already executed a daring ocean rescue. Was she really going to begrudge him another few moments of heroism?
Lucy surrendered, and he carried her onto the beach. He lay her down in the sand and knelt down next to her to catch his breath. “Are you all right?”
She lay on her back with her arm over her eyes for a moment, then turned to him with a sigh. “You’re very good, sir. I assure you, I’m—oh, my goodness! You’re bleeding!”
Watery red streaks stained the front of his white shirt, and a fresh stream of blood poured from his nose. He pressed a hand to his face, and his palm came away covered with it. “Aye, so I am.” He tried to staunch it with his sleeve, but it was positively spouting, and the wet linen was no match for it.
