“Will this do?” He asked.
She laughed.
“That will do nicely.”
And it would, she decided as she gazed at his long, tanned body lying full-length on the blanket. His muscles rippled down his back and across his shoulders to the waistband of his breeches, beneath which the mound of his behind appeared equally well-defined. His breechesleft little to the imagination.
She wished she could touch him there. He was so close. She also wished to run her fingers from the nape of his neck down the indentation of his spine to the dimples just above his waistband.
“Are you done yet?” His amused voice came from the folds of the blanket.
“Not yet. You stay where you are.”
Forever.
She reached down for the hem of her dress and, using both arms, pulled it swiftly up and over her head, dropping it down onto the blanket beside her. She was not wearing a corset, just a simple satin shift with drawers underneath, reaching to her knees. Leaving both in place, she moved towards the stream and sat down on the side of the bank to slide in. She had not swum, in any form, since the day Will had walked out of her parents’ house. Now, it felt heavenly.
“You can look now,” she said playfully, and Will lifted his head from the blanket.
* * *
She was submerged up to her neck in water. He watched as she leaned back and her long blonde locks spread out on the surface around her. He could see her undergarments' white reflection. It was all he could do not to roll into the water, but he had promised both her and himself that he would not. Instead, he remained flat on his stomach, resting his chin on his hands, elbows bent, watching her.
“Feel good?” he smiled.
“I can’t believe you haven’t jumped in,” she laughed.
“Me neither.” His smile widened.
“It is indeed glorious.” She raised her legs high, and her stockinged toes broke the surface of the water.
“You left your stockings on!” He laughed.
“Removing a woman’s attire is slightly more complicated than a man’s.”
“I have never found that to be the case, Your Grace.”
She raised her hand and flicked water at him.
“Be careful, Your Grace,” he warned.
The smile she gave him in return stirred him deep inside. But then, just watching her splashing and luxuriating in the cool water was doing all sorts of things to his insides. She lay her head back again and, this time, allowed her knees and her toes to break the surface of the water, so he could see the lace trim of her drawers. Lord, she looked like an offering to the gods, he thought. Or to him.
“I could come in, and we could have a race,” he offered. He felt right now that it would be a good thing if most of him were submerged in cold water.
“Or, you could stay right there and leave me to bathe in peace, as you promised.”
He chuckled, but he pulled himself closer to the stream so he could trail his fingers in the water. He didn’t dare roll over onto his back. Instead, he gently touched the surface of the water with his fingers like he was tracing the contours of her body, feeling his fingertips begin to tingle as he did so as if he really were touching her skin. He pushed the lower half of his body harder down into the grass.
He could not believe that fate had given him this joyous afternoon. His ploy of waiting for her to come to him, to reverse her negative decision, had obviously been an unmitigated disaster, just as John and Charlotte had warned him it would be. When the eve of the wedding arrived, he had known he had lost everything. Will did not believe in God, but he was certain he now believed in miracles.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Rose said across the stream.
“Make it a guinea, and I will think about it.”
He knew she was surprised by his new behavior. The notion pleased him. He would hate to ever be predictable.
Rose chose that moment to turn her body over in the water and swim towards him, her arms pushing wide to propel herself forward until she was right up close to where he was lying on the bank. Her eyes looked larger and bluer, than they had ever looked before and filled with an excitement and a pleasure he had not seen in a long time.