There was a flicker of movement behind her and she dipped quickly back under the water, clasping her arms over her breasts as she spun around.
Then she saw him. He’d finished swimming and was already half-dressed, walking barefoot in just a pair of hose along the top of the waterfall, his broad shoulders tapering into a well-defined waist, still streaming with water. The muscles of his toned chest rippled as he walked, so solid that they seemed to be sculpted from wood.
She stared, speechless. She’d seen men without shirts before, villagers working in the fields, but none who had looked like this. She doubted that one man in a thousand could look so effortlessly intimidating, so powerful, and yet in such complete control of his body.
He hadn’t seen her. He seemed to be examining the structure of the dam. If she didn’t move he would pass her by completely.
If she didn’t move.
She swept her arms wide, letting the ripples spiral outwards, drawing his gaze towards her like a siren.
Could she tell him the truth? Would he forgive her? Would he help her?
Either way, and no matter what he might think of her afterwards, she owed him the truth.
His gaze locked with hers and her whole body clenched. What was he thinking? He wasn’t walking away, but he wasn’t moving either. Instead his expression seemed to be at war with itself—hungry eyes vying with a stubborn-set jaw. Had she shocked him? The temptation to do so again was overwhelming.
She lay back, kicking her legs up as she dived in a loop, emerging just below him like a mermaid tempting him into the water. Then she stood up, slowly and deliberately, keeping her arms at her sides until she stood naked, waist-deep in the pool, the water lapping just below her belly.
It wasn’t too late. If he came to her now then she’d tell him everything. And he’d help her—she was sure of it. He would find a way to protect Cille if anyone could. Maybe he could think of a better plan too—one that didn’t involve deceiving FitzOsbern. Maybe they could go back to Etton and work it out together.
She held her breath. If he came to her now she’d hand herself over to a Norman.
* * *
Svend stood on the side of the dam, keeping every part of himself immobile through sheer force of will.
What the hell had he been thinking, bringing her here? Had he lost his mind? They should be at Redbourn by now. He should be leaving her with her new husband—not thinking about jumping into the water beside her. It was a matter of honour. He was honour-bound to deliver her safely to FitzOsbern, and he wasn’t in the habit of seducing other men’s brides. No matter how badly he wanted to. No matter that she’d kissed him first...
What had she said? ‘No one will see.’
When she’d left, he’d torn off his clothes and hurled himself into the water, letting the cold restore his sense of clarity, his temperature still soaring from the memory of her touch on his skin. When she’d pressed her lips to his scar he’d wanted to throw her to the ground and take her right then. Strange how sometimes she seemed more like an innocent maid than a grieving widow. Surely a woman who’d been married five years would know the effect her touch might have on a man? But she’d seemed genuinely shocked by his arousal.
He’d still been grappling with the contradiction when he’d seen her just now. Now he kept his gaze fixed firmly on hers, trying to concentrate on what his mind was telling him and not other parts of his body.
Damn it all—how much self-control was a man supposed to have?
The thunder of hooves took them both by surprise.
Svend spun around instantly, searching for his sword on the lakeside, mentally calculating the time it would take him to reach it. Too long.
He muttered a volley of colourful oaths. Normally he prided himself on never being caught unprepared or off guard—but then he’d never normally have brought his men here, never let his warrior instincts become sluggish and distracted.
There was nothing normal about the effect she had on him. He was still burning with desire for her, and he didn’t know whether he felt more frustrated by that fact or the timing of this attack.
He crouched down, muscles coiling. If he could reach the trees without being seen he would be able to grab his sword and come up behind them—whoever they were. They might have the advantage, but he wouldn’t make the fight easy.
Just as soon as he knew she was safe.
‘What’s happening?’
Her voice was close to his ear and he started, surprised to find her peering over the top of the dam beside him. Somehow she’d found a foothold and clambered up. Instinctively, he glanced downwards, but her long tresses were shielding her body from view.
‘Do you know the way to Redbourn from here?’
‘Yes, but...’