“Nay,” he replied calmly. “That’s the worst of it.”
“The worst?”
“The cold. It willnae get any worse and ye have made the effort, so why waste it?”
Margaret narrowed her eyes.
“Give it a moment or two and yer body will adjust,” he said with that same softness he didn’t expect of himself.
Margaret watched him with open skepticism. “Ye promise?”
“I dae.”
She looked toward the deeper water, then back at him. Before he could say another word, she dove. The movement was sudden, the surface of the loch breaking around her with a sharp splash. Domhnall blinked. For half a second, she vanished entirely beneath the dark water, and then she surfaced again, right in front of him and far closer than he expected.
Margaret pushed her hair back from her face, drawing in a sharp breath as the cold seized her lungs.
“Saints in heaven!” Her voice broke into a laugh despite the shock. “That is even worse!”
Domhnall could not help smiling. “A moment,” he reminded her.
Margaret shivered violently, the water dripping from her hair and shoulders. Her lips had turned faintly blue from the cold. Domhnall found himself staring. The thin linen of her shift clung lightly where the water touched it, and the sunlight caught in the droplets along her skin.
She looked exhilarated, alive… and dangerously beautiful.
Margaret noticed his gaze. She moved a little closer through the water, then her hand lifted without thinking. Her fingers rested lightly against his shoulder.
The touch was simple, but Domhnall felt it like a spark against his skin. Every instinct in him sharpened instantly. She was so close now he could see the faint tremor in her breath, and the way the water hid the outlines of her breasts.
Take her. Pull her closer. Taste her.
Domhnall exhaled slowly and stepped back through the water. Margaret blinked in surprise as the distance between them widened. She tilted her head slightly.
“Are ye retreating?”
Domhnall forced his voice to remain calm. “I am exercising restraint.”
“Why?”
His gaze flicked briefly toward her hand still resting on his shoulder. Then back to her face.
“Dinnae ye think me beautiful?” she asked through a whisper.
For a moment Domhnall simply stared at her. The absurdity of the question struck him so sharply that he let out a short breath that might have been a laugh.
“Margaret, are ye serious?”
Her brow furrowed slightly. “I asked a question.”
“A ridiculous one,” he frowned.
“That daesnae answer it.”
Domhnall shook his head slowly, running a hand through his wet hair.
“Beautiful?” he repeated.
“Aye.”
