When Beauty Tamed the Beast
Page 71

“Don’t you dare look at me like that!” she shouted. And then she realized where she was.
It was a lovely day. The sky was hot and blue, with just wisps of clouds, like ragged lace high above the wheeling seabirds.
“Oh,” she breathed. “You brought me to the pool.”
“Why don’t you take off your chemise before we swim?” he asked.
She seemed not to hear him, her eyes dreamy as she stared down at the blue water.
“Your chemise,” he repeated, pulling off his boots. “Take it off.”
She finally turned and frowned at him. “I will not.”
“Your choice,” he said. He tossed his shirt to the side.
Her eyes flicked away from his chest with indifference. He pushed down his breeches.
“You needn’t bother undressing,” she said. “I will not swim, and I am not interested in anything more intimate.” In fact, she seemed to be shuddering a little at the very thought.
That was annoying. In wordless reply, Piers reached out and gave her a shove between her shoulder blades.
She hit the water with a shriek, and came up spluttering. “You pull me out this second,” she shouted, hanging on to the side of the pool. “My skin prickles, and it’s freezing!”
“Better start swimming,” he said, pulling down his smalls. He had an erection again. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, jumping into an ocean pool with an erection, but there it was.
He saw Linnet look at that part of him, then he dove off the rock over her, and swam back to the edge where she was clinging. Of course her teeth were chattering now.
“The water’s not that cold today,” he said. “The sun’s been out for three days. You should get moving.” But he scooped her against his body, as he always had. He hadn’t held her close for days—and it was so . . . so . . . His heart clenched, like the beginning of a cardiac attack.
“We need to swim,” he said, pushing her off. “Go!”
“I’ve been ill.” But her voice lacked conviction.
“You’re well now. You’re just malingering.” He grinned at her furious expression, and then reached out and pinched her bottom.
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare touch me. Ever.”
“I shall whenever I want to,” he said. “You’re mine. You might want to start swimming or you’ll freeze.” Without another word he turned and started swimming slowly down the pool. It took a second, but she began swimming after him.
When he had his worst days, during which the pain in his leg was all he could think about, coming here to the pool set him free. It cleared his head, stopped him from thinking about laudanum and brandy. Stopped him from contemplating suicide.
So, he swam just in front of Linnet in case she needed help, hoping that the water would have the same soothing effect on her. At the other end, she caught hold of a rock and panted for a moment. He tried to pull her against him, but she said, “I’m fine,” pushed away, and started swimming.
This time he swam behind. She was doing fine without his help, and besides, it gave him a fine glimpse of her legs kicking up and down.
When she reached the flat rock, she was blown, puffing and wheezing; he popped her up on the side, and climbed out after her.
“Is that all the swimming you’re doing?” she said, running like a rabbit over to the towels.
“I have to make sure you’re not going to steal away.”
She kept her back to him. “Where would I go? I have no clothing.”
“That’s right, I forgot,” he said. “You’re too much of a coward to be seen in red.” Then he dove back in and started swimming, checking every so often to make sure she was still there. She had lain down on the rock, so bundled up in the sheet as well as towels that he could see nothing more than the tip of her ruddy nose.
By two lengths later, it seemed the peace and the sunshine had worn down her resistance. She had unwound the towels and sheet and even taken off her chemise. She was lying like a mermaid on the rock, soaking up the sun.
Five more lengths, and he decided her skin had probably had enough.
He hoisted himself out of the pool and walked over to her, shaking his head so that cold drops flew all over her and made her squawk with annoyance.
Just like that, he got his erection back. One glimpse at her, draped across the rock, and his body forgot about being cold and rather tired.
“Take a towel,” she said crossly. But her gaze wasn’t quite as dismissive as it had been. “How can you?” she burst out.
“How can I what? Do you suppose you could dry my legs? You know I can’t do it, with this cane.”
He tried to look pathetic, but her eyes narrowed. “The sun will dry you.”
He gave himself a slow caress, his eyes fixed on her. “You heat me faster than the sun.”
“How can you desire me when I look like this?” She swallowed hard, but Piers had already decided that the last thing she needed was pity. Besides, any inclination in that direction died when she added, “And that’s one of the most ill-phrased compliments I’ve ever heard.”
“Unlike you, I fell in love with more than beauty. Your sharp tongue, for example. I adore that.”
“I don’t love you for your looks,” she said crossly. “If I were that way inclined, I’d choose Sébastien.”
“Well, if I were that way inclined, I’d choose Nurse Matilda.”
She snorted.
“These days, she’s better looking than you are.”
Sure enough, she sat up, eyes blazing. “You are a hoggish lout to say such a thing to me!”
“Her creamy skin,” he said dreamily. “Like orchid petals.”
A puff of air escaped from her lips in a fashion that could never be described as lady-like. “Was that another snort?” he asked. “Dear me, what an annoying habit. I hope that darling Matilda doesn’t develop the habit before I ask for her hand. Oh wait, I think I already have a fiancée.”
She pulled the sheet over herself and flopped back down, eyes closed. “You’re ridiculous.”
He lay down too, next to her. For a time they merely lay there, silent. As if they were the only two people in the world, and no other creature in it but a curlew, singing rather tunelessly on a rock nearby.
When he finally sat up, Linnet’s eyes were open, and so full of pain that his throat tightened. She didn’t look away, didn’t say anything.
Before she could intuit what he had in mind, Piers grabbed the sheet and tossed it to the side.
He expected her to screech and try to cover herself, but instead she lay still, her face turned away from his, though not before he saw tears.
“I’m looking at you all over,” he said conversationally, doing just that.
“Look your fill,” she snapped. “You’re going to, no matter what I say.”
“You’re still red, but now you’re peeling too. God, you’re a mess.”
She snapped upright like a jointed wooden doll, looked down, and shrieked so loudly that the curlew flew away.
“Saltwater is healing,” he said, picking up the sheet and rubbing her skin very, very gently. “Look at that. You’re not quite boiled underneath. And no scars, on your stomach at least.”