“Well? Are you ready?”
Kit blinked and turned to Jack. “Ready?” The sight of his smile, a melding of excitement, laughter and pure devilry, set her nerves atingle. She followed his gaze to the other side of the bay. “You’re joking.” She made the words a statement.
“Why? You’re already soaked to the skin—what’s a little more water?”
He was right, of course; she couldn’t get any wetter. There was, however, one problem. “I can’t swim.”
It was Jack’s turn to stare, memories of their night of near disaster on the yacht vivid in his mind. In a few pithy phrases, he disabused her mind of any claim to sanity, adding his opinion of witless women who went on boats when they couldn’t swim. Kit listened calmly, well acquainted with the argument—it was Spencer’s standard answer to her desire to sail. “Yes, but what are we going to do now?” she asked, when Jack ground to a halt.
Jack scowled, narrowed eyes fixed on the far shore. Then he nudged Champion closer to Delia. Kit felt his hands close about her waist.
“Come here.”
She didn’t have much choice. Jack lifted her across and perched her on Champion’s saddle in front of him. It was a tight fit; Kit felt the butt of Jack’s saddle pistol press into one thigh. He took Delia’s reins and tied them to a ring on the back of Champion’s saddle, then his belt was in his hands. “Hold still.” Peering at her waist, he threaded his belt through hers.
“What are you doing?” Kit twisted about, trying to see.
“Dammit, woman! Hold still. You can wriggle your hips all you like later but not now!”
The muttered words reduced Kit to frozen obedience. Later. With all the excitement, she’d forgotten his fixation about later. She swallowed. The moment hardly seemed ripe to start a discussion on that subject. He’d been half-aroused before she’d wriggled; now…
“I’m just making a loop so I can catch hold of you if you slip off.”
The observation did nothing for Kit’s confidence. “If I slip off?”
Jack straightened before she could think of any other route of escape. “Hold tight to the pommel. I’ll swim alongside once we’re in the water.” With that, he set his heels to Champion’s sides.
Both horses took to the water as if swimming across bays in the dead of night was a part of their daily routine. Kit envied them their dull brains. Hers was frantic. She clung to the pommel, both hands frozen and fused to the smooth outcrop. As the first wave lapped her legs, she felt Jack’s comforting bulk, warm and solid behind her, evaporate. Swallowing her protest, she turned her head and found him bobbing in the water alongside her.
“Lean forward as if you were riding hard.”
Kit obeyed, relieved to feel the weight of his hand in the small of her back.
A moment later, a wave crashed over her, drenching her with icy water. She shrieked and came up sputtering. Instantly, Jack was beside her, his face alongside hers, his arm over her back, one large hand spread over her ribs, and her breast. “Sssh. It’s all right. I won’t let you go.”
The reassurance in his tone washed through her. Kit relaxed enough to register the position of his hand but was in no mood to protest. If she could have got any closer to him she would have, regardless of any retribution later.
The tide rushed through the narrow neck and into the bay. It carried them forward like flotsam and, in a short time, disgorged them on the sands of the mainland. As soon as Champion’s hooves scraped the bottom, Jack swung up behind Kit. She heaved a sigh of relief and decided not to take exception to the muscular arm that wound about her waist, pulling her back tightly, tucking her into safety against him.
Jack countered the stallion’s surge up the beach, holding him back until the mare’s shorter legs reached the sand. As soon as they left the surf, he pushed Champion into a canter, heading for the closest path off the sand and the relative safety of the trees.
Kit held her peace and waited for Jack to come to a halt and set her down. But he didn’t. Instead he steered Champion straight through the trees bordering the cliff and struck south through the teeming rain. Disoriented, Kit took a few minutes to work out where he was headed. Then her eyes flew wide. He was taking her straight to the cottage!
“Jack! Stop! Er…” Kit struggled to think of a pressing reason for a sudden departure, but her mind froze.
Champion’s stride didn’t falter. “You’ve got to get out of those clothes as soon as possible,” Jack said.
Paralysis set in. Why as soon as possible? Wouldn’t some other time do? For the life of her, Kit couldn’t think of any words to counter his firm assertion. She decided to ignore it. “I can ride perfectly well. Just stop and let me get on Delia.”
The only answer he gave was to turn Champion onto the road to Holme. A few minutes later, they reached the path that led south to the cottage. Fear loosened Kit’s tongue. “Jack—”
“Dammit, woman! You’re soaked. You can’t ride all the way to Cranmer like that. And in case you hadn’t noticed, the storm’s about to break.”
Kit hadn’t noticed. A quick glance around his shoulder showed thunderheads lowering through the gloom. Even as she watched, a bolt of lightning streaked earthward. Kit stopped arguing and snuggled back into the warmth of Jack’s chest. She hated thunderstorms; more importantly, so did Delia. Yet the mare seemed unperturbed, pacing steadily beside Champion. Perhaps she should ask Jack to ride home with her. No—they might have to stop under a tree.
There was no denying she could not afford a chill she couldn’t explain. But what on earth was she to do when she got to the cottage? The thought focused her mind on what had hitherto proved the most reliable reflection of Jack’s state of mind. To her surprise, she couldn’t feel anything—there was none of the firm pressure she’d come to recognize, despite the fact that she was wedged more tightly against him than ever before. What was wrong?
Then the import of his words registered. He’d only meant she had to get out of her wet clothes, not that…Kit blushed. To her shame, she realized she felt no relief at her discovery, only the most intense disappointment. The truth hit her, impossible to deny. Her blush deepened.