‘Clemence,’ he managed after a long minute, probably at a loss for anything nice to say.
‘I know, I look an idiot, I was just thinking you look like a water god and you ought to have a nymph and I was trying to appear more nymph-like because I thought that would amuse you, but obviously I don’t and you aren’t…’ She was babbling. Slowly her voice trailed away, the heat of her blushes burning her cheeks.
Nathan simply slid into the water and took two long over-arm strokes to reach her. He put one hand either side of her waist, Clemence lifted her hands to his shoulders and they hung together in the green water, a foot apart, staring into each other’s eyes.
‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘That’s what you are, a water spirit with your big green eyes and those fey looks and your long, graceful limbs made for slipping through clear water.’
‘Me?’ The word came out on a gasp. He was so close she could feel his body heat through the water. She could see down below the surface, down to the dark hair on his chest, narrowing to where she dared not let her gaze follow. Under her palms she could feel the bunch and flex of muscles as he trod water, supporting her, and the ripples their floating bodies made washed against her skin like the touch of a thousand caressing fingers.
‘Yes, you,’ Nathan said. He did not seem to have the same inhibitions about looking down through the water as she had. ‘And I can’t recall who you said likened your figure to a kipper, but all I can say is, they have been eating some very odd fish.’
‘I’m flat…’
‘You shouldn’t listen to other people.’
‘Just to you?’
‘Yes, I know what I’m talking about. You have curves in all the right places, Clemence.’ His hands slid down to her hips and then back to her waist.
‘But—’ She stared down at her chest, biting her lip. Their bodies glimmered pale as ivory through the greenish water as though seen through thick old glass. Oddly, there did seem to be rather more bosom than she had possessed when she’d fled Raven’s Hold.
‘And you have the loveliest breasts. Perfect.’ Before she could flutter her feet and propel herself away, his right hand came up, cupped, just below her left breast. He did not touch her, yet the upward pressure on the water seemed to support the flesh, caress it. The nipple stiffened betrayingly. ‘Perfect,’ Nathan repeated. Then he was swimming away from her to the bank.
Confused, delighted, aroused and painfully shy, Clemence turned, thankful for the cool water against her hot cheeks as she heard Nathan splashing as he got out of the pool behind her.
There were the sounds of him moving away, then she sensed she was alone. Perfect? He thought her body was perfect? It must be a long time indeed since he had lain with a woman if that was what he thought, Clemence told herself. On the other hand, men did seem to be able to get physically excited by anything female, which was very odd of them.
Take Cousin Lewis, for example, she mused, as she climbed out of the water and reached for the towel. He had made it very clear he thought her unattractive and yet he was also supremely confident that he could have sex with her and leave her with child, even though he had a beautiful and passionate mistress under the same roof.
She towelled herself, then wrapped the linen strips tight around her breasts again. She was beginning to hate the hot restrictive feeling, so much worse than the carefully structured support of light stays. But Nathan was right; for some reason, perhaps the food and fresh air and exercise, her small curves were coming back and she could not risk discovery for the sake of comfort.
‘Are you decent?’ He sounded as detached as if they had just been for a country walk with a chaperon, not swimming naked in a tropical pool.
‘Perfectly,’ Clemence assured him, managing to sound equally genteel. ‘I wish I’d brought a comb, though.’
‘Here.’ Nathan produced a battered bone comb from the depths of a waistcoat pocket, eyeing her critically as she raked it through her hair.
Clemence shook her head to produce a tousled look and squinted at him through her damp fringe. ‘My hair was my only beauty; I used to be able to comb it out almost down to my waist. Cutting it off hurt, but at the time I’d have shaved my head if it got me out of there.’
‘Is that what they told you? That your hair was your only beauty?’ Nathan shook his head. ‘Obviously big green eyes like forest pools are two a penny on Jamaica. Come on, nymph, or the captain will have us holystoning the decks as punishment for being late back.’
Clemence found she was grinning foolishly as she followed Nathan’s wide shoulders down the path. He thought her eyes were beautiful, he thought her figure was beautiful, he thought…She let herself slip into a daydream where her hair had miraculously grown again and Nathan was no navy renegade turned pirate, but instead appeared in elegant full-dress naval uniform to claim her hand, rescued her from the Naismiths, swept her off to his bedchamber…
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Um?’
He was looking back over his shoulder at her. ‘You sighed.’
‘Oh. I suppose I’m tired, a little. Don’t take any notice.’
Because I certainly cannot! Miracles do not happen, dreams do not come true and reality is just that. Real.
As she thought it, they came out of the trees and there, before them, was the hidden harbour, the Sea Scorpion in its lair at the centre. Quiet, malevolent and deadly. Clemence stared, all her sensua
l daydreams shrivelling like a love letter thrown on to hot coals. Here was her reality.
Chapter Nine