Page 68 of All For You

I strode through the forest for an hour, my face raised to the dwindling sun, missing Oodles bumping into my leg and feeling a bit sad he wasn’t there. Screams of crows overhead jolted me back into my writing. Right. Scenes of conflict filled with high stakes that could be set here, despite its present serenity.

A heroine racing to find a beloved lost friend, maybe. Angry with her parents’ arranged marriage, she gallops her horse through the forest, stopping for some mysterious man she’d run into many times, knowing their being seen together could compromise her reputation.

I emerged on the edge of the lake, sheltered from view from the house, and pictured Darcy rising from the water with his shirt off, then quickly shook my head. There was no point having fantasies about this confusing real-life man. The only thing in my life I could control was my writing, which was my future.

I pulled my notebook from my backpack and tried to sketch out this new novel of mine. Sigh. Nothing inspiring appeared on the page. I attempted to handwrite a few paragraphs in my notebook, then tried on my phone, which usually forced a few paragraphs.

Nope.

Set a timer. Empty pages. I sat under the thick trees and flopped back onto the bed of crinkling leaves and imagined Darcy hovering over me, resting on his forearms, his hips pressed against mine. “Let’s make these leaves crackle, shall we?” he said with a growl.

Dammit.

Despite all my best intentions about planning that elusive plot of mine, Darcy kept intruding into my thoughts. Who washe, really? Something about this place was so deeply beautiful, with such a peaceful, harmonious atmosphere, it seemed impossible someone so negative owned it. He’d earned high praise from his staff. It didn’t erase what he’d done, but now that I’d seen another side to him, I couldn’t dismiss it. I’d had him pegged as the angry and destructive loner prowling around his castle, but he was much more complex.

I was still lying on the leaf-strewn ground, enjoying the sun on my face, a rustle and crunch signaling my every move.

A loud splash sounded from the lake.

I jolted upright.

Another louder splash sounded, possibly from a large creature. A deer?

I dropped flat, hidden from view, and squinted, trying to see better. No, it wasn’t a deer. Someonewas swimming. A broad rippling back, strong legs, a flash of wet black hair. Then the profile I’d seen carved into marble flicked my way.

I gasped. It was Darcy.

CHAPTER 30

Lizzy

He dived under, and a taut arse clad in black boxer briefs filled my view.

Thank God, he’d kept his underwear on. Now he was swimming up and down the lake at speed. His ripped shoulders, glistening with water, the sureness of his stroke as his hands pulled efficiently at the silken lake, sent similar smooth ripples through my body. He didn’t resist the water, didn’t work against it. He glided with the flow, the sleek liquid slipping off his back.

I realized I was holding my breath, my heart beating faster.

What is wrong with you, woman? He’s swimming.

I should announce myself. Or hurry away. So why didn’t I?

Mesmerizing glimpses of his muscled back reaching to do the strokes and bulging pecs made me into a drooling mess.

What was I doing, lolling around watching this man swim? This was an invasion of his privacy. I had to use this opportunity to sneak out of here. There was no way he could find me here watching him. I was going to look like a stalker.

Should I run back to the house, call a taxi to the B&B, and hole up there for the next few days? Text Tabitha not to say a word? But I had to sprint across a large field and the wide driveway to the house. He might see me.

Or maybe I should walk straight back to the B&B. Yes, that was the only thing I could do. It was probably only a couple miles away.

He swam up and down the lake methodically. I should go now. But his strokes and kicks made me fall into a reverie. The clouds overhead, the birds flitting, the shadows of the trees were all so peaceful, it felt like everything in my life was going to be okay. Then he flipped and treaded water for a while.

Shit, he was watching the shore. I’d missed my chance to get out of here.

He took a few strokes toward the shore. Oh shoot. Now he was getting out. That chest, muscled and tight, stunned me into stillness. He stood there, completely comfortable, like swimming and sunning himself in his briefs was a regular occurrence. The house was not in view, and he was sheltered by the trees; none of his staff could see him. So he probably had.

I should call out right now and let him know I was here. I was sure he’d be horrified. Annoyed. Irritated, at least. Yes, it was time to go.

I crawled along the ground backward to find a way out without being caught. But maybe I was wriggling back onto the path he was going to take? He was pulling on his shorts and T-shirt now, which seemed damp. Maybe he’d run here or something. Maybe he’d gotten his driver to drop him off up the road and he’d run the rest of the way.