“Ah.” Duncan nodded solemnly. “Then perhaps I imagined it.”
Elaina’s eyes widened. “I didnaestare.”
“Studied, then.”
“I did nay such thing!”
Duncan chuckled softly, a sound that was low and sounded thoroughly pleased. The lass was properly flustered and for reasons he found very difficult not to enjoy. He pushed slightly higher in the water, resting both arms along the stone now. The movement sent another small cascade of water running down his chest.
“So, ye merely came tae the loch fer a walk, and instead, ye found me,” he reiterated.
They regarded one another for a moment.
“Aye,” she nodded.
Duncan tilted his head slightly. “And now?”
Elaina hesitated. Her composure had mostly returned, though the faint color remained on her cheeks. The breeze lifted a strand of her hair, carrying with it that familiar scent of rosemary that seemed to follow her wherever she went.
She folded her arms.
“Now,” she said, “I am waiting fer ye tae finish occupying the lake.”
She was standing on the bank with her arms folded and her chin lifted in stubborn patience, as though she truly intended to wait until he emerged from the loch like some obedient servant.
Duncan had no intention of being obedient.
“Ye ken,” he said after a moment, lazily stirring the water with one hand, “the loch is rather large. Plenty of space.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Fer what purpose are ye telling me this?”
Duncan’s grin appeared again, slow and dangerous.
“Well,” he said, “it occurred tae me that instead of standing there glaring at the water, ye might simply join me.”
Elaina stared at him. “I beg yer pardon?”
“Come swim.”
“With ye?”
“Aye.”
She blinked once, then twice, as though she were waiting for the absurdity of the suggestion to reveal itself.
When it did not, she said very calmly. “Nay.”
Duncan hummed thoughtfully.
“Nay?”
“Nay.”
“Nae even a little?”
“Nae even remotely.”
He tilted his head, studying her. “Pity.”
