Page 113 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

"It's a Highland loch in late autumn. What did ye expect? Warm bathwater?" David grinned. "But it's nae that bad once ye get used tae it."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Or—" David started unlacing his boots. "Ye could try it yerself."

"What are you doing?"

"Goin' fer a swim."

"Now? It's freezin’!"

"It's refreshin'." He pulled off his shirt, grinning at her scandalized expression. His ribs were healing well—the wound barely visible now. "Come on. When's the last time ye did somethin' just because ye wanted tae? Nae because it was expected or necessary or part of some plan?"

"I—" She stopped, really thinking about it. "Never. I've never done that."

"Then today's a good day tae start." He waded into the water, gasping as the cold hit his skin. "Christ, that's colder than I remembered."

"David MacDonald, you are insane."

"Aye. Probably." He dove under, the shock of cold water washing away every worry and tension he'd been carrying. When he surfaced, shaking water from his hair, he found Elinor still on the shore, watching him with a mix of amusement and concern. "Come on. The water's fine."

"You're a terrible liar."

"It gets better once ye're in. I promise."

She bit her lip, clearly debating with herself. Then, to his genuine surprise and delight, she started unlacing her gown.

"What are ye daein'?"

"If you can be insane, so can I." She stripped down to her shift, shivering in the cold air. "But if I die of cold, I'm haunting you."

"Fair enough."

She stepped into the water tentatively, gasping at the temperature. "This is madness. Absolute madness."

"Keep comin'. It gets easier."

She waded deeper, her teeth chattering audibly now. When the water reached her waist, David moved toward her, offering his hands.

"I don't know how to swim," she admitted, looking suddenly vulnerable.

"I'll teach ye." He pulled her closer, his hands on her waist. "First rule, dinnae panic. The water will hold ye if ye let it."

"That's not very reassuring when I can't feel me legs anymore."

"Trust me." He moved backward slowly, bringing her with him into slightly deeper water. "Just relax. Let yer body float."

She clutched at his shoulders, her body rigid with tension and cold. But gradually, as he supported her and talked her through it, she started to relax. Her breathing evened out. Her grip on his shoulders loosened slightly.

"There ye go," he murmured. "See? Ye're floatin'."

"You're holding me up."

"Barely. Ye're daein' most of it yerself." He adjusted his grip, supporting her less. "Feel that? That's the water holdin' ye. Nae me."

"It feels strange. But good."

He showed her how to move her arms, how to kick her legs to propel herself forward. She was clumsy at first, splashing more than swimming. But she was determined, and slowly she started to get it.