Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she tried to ease back into her state of serenity.
There it was again. The prickles. It couldn’t simply be the cold water; someone was watching her, she was sure of it.
Sara jerked her head up to see a tall figure standing close to the shore where she had entered the pond. Clad in his signature black, his cane held in loose fingers, Nathan stood watching her. The surprise of seeing him—seeing anyone there, in truth—jerked her, and Sara submerged in the water, her body now too tense to float. Her head went under just as she was trying to take a breath, filling her mouth and lungs with water.
She flailed, her lungs protesting the foreign substance and her throat automatically constricting, causing a spurt of panic to consume her. One of her heels hit the bottom of the pond, and the small part of her mind still retaining a sense of logic propelled her to dig that heel in and have the other one do the same. Some stability established, the panic began to ease. She was in the process of lifting her head above the water to take a breath of precious air when strong hands grasped her elbows and pulled her up.
Gasping and coughing, Sara found herself being held against Nathan’s chest. His hands remained around her elbows, but his grip was firm and steady. She coughed again, expelling the water from her throat and lungs, and breathed in fresh air, her body shaking from the brief ordeal.
Calming, Sara wiped the water from her face and pushed the wet tangles of hair that had plastered themselves around her cheeks. One of his hands released her elbow and helped her, gently tucking the hair back.
Oh good heavens. Her eyes slid shut as his warm fingers brought sensory memories flooding back and her skin vibrated with his closeness. There was barely any space between them; it would only take a slight sway from either of them to make that space nonexistent. Sara became acutely aware of the man in front of her.
But she would not look at him. Could not. Not after what he had said to her, leaving her dignity in shreds around her feet. Had that been necessary? Where had all his courtesy that she had seen at Cloverfields gone? Before their assignation there had been times when he had been rough and harsh, but never deliberately hurtful.
His hand cupped her cheek, tilting her head back. She knew he wanted her to look at him, and part of her did not want to give him the satisfaction, but she could not resist. Opening her eyes, she found him studying her, a frown on his face. His jaw flexed as though he wanted to say something, but the silence remained broken only by the sound of the meager waterfall.
His thumb caressed her chin, moving up to trace her bottom lip. His eyes softened, not turning to the hot springs that accompanied his desire, but a warm glow that was unfamiliar to her. The foolish part of her whispered that it was a look of love, but she quickly dismissed that. Nathan Grant did not love anyone but himself. He had made that abundantly clear.
Yet his eyes were warm.
They lowered to her lips where his thumb was still tracing the bottom one. He took a deep breath and licked his lips. His fingers threaded into her tangled hair and he lowered his head, his intent obvious.
For a moment, Sara stood there and let it happen. She watched his head move closer to hers, his eyes closing and lips parting. She furrowed her brow, wondering at why everything was moving so slowly. She couldn’t understand why he wanted to kiss her, not when he had so bluntly rejected her just days before. Was it because of their assignation—did he now feel he had certain rights and could expect things from her? Or was it because she was in her shift, out of doors and wet, that he was submitting to his more base nature?
Yet his eyes had been warm. It was all so confusing.
Just as their lips were about to meet, she turned her head away and took a step back, moving away from his solid body and heat. His fingers tore from her hair at the movement and she saw his hand hover in the air. Surprise was revealed in his eyes when he looked at her, but Sara looked off to the side, swallowing, her unspoken statement unmistakable.
They stood as such for several long moments. His hand lowered to his side and he did not move. Sara could feel his eyes boring into her, but she did not return her gaze to his. The ants began to tickle her throat at the impending confrontation she knew was coming, but she refused to submit to this man who had taught her to be strong only to rip her strength away from her and destroy what little self-worth she had managed to attain.