Page 22 of A Spinster's Guide to Landing a Lyon

A loud splash, followed by several water droplets yanked him out of his musings.

“Did you just come to stare at me, Benedict? Isn’t that a bit inappropriate?”

“I came to swim.”

“Isn’tthata bit inappropriate?” But even as she said the words, he saw something related to curiosity flash across her eyes. Perhaps it was just the reflection of the sun on the water, but he wasn’t really willing to accept that.

“Isn’t this whole ordeal inappropriate?” He retorted while peeling off his jacket and undoing his cravat.

“Benedict? What are you doing?”

“I told you, I came to swim.”

Holding her arms across her chest, he could see she was treading water with just her legs.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Oh, of course, she always had to be so proper.

“You only accept an act of societal defiance when it’s on your terms, is that how it is?”

The roll of her eyes and the backstrokes she took toward the far edge were practically an invitation into the water.

While her eyes were averted, he threw off the rest of his clothes until he was down to his smallclothes.

“I’m coming in,” he announced as he jumped into the refreshingly cold water, also known as trouble.

It was a terrible idea. Wildly inappropriate. He was supposed to be here for her sister, but that ship had sailed. Arabella wasn’t any more interested in him than he was in her.

But Amelia…now she had unwittingly captivated his attention from the start.

“You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine,” Amelia instructed loudly. “Don’t come past that boulder—”

“You mean like this?” he asked, swimming right on past it until he was within arm’s length of her.

Grumbling, she chastised him. “Really, Benedict. Where is the upstanding duke I was promised for marriage?”

Her blush spoke volumes.

“Marriage for my sister, of course.”

“He recently decided to cast away expectations and live his life how he wants to.”

“Well aren’t you of the privileged elite to choose that then.”

She turned on her belly to swim away, but he grabbed the fabric of her chemise.

Spluttering, she turned back to him. “What are you doing?”

But he couldn’t answer because he didn’t really know what he was doing. He just knew that he wanted to be near her. To talk to her. To understand her more. Because he was quickly coming to the conclusion that his first impression of her was all wrong.

She acted tough. Strong. Resilient. Like she didn’t need a husband. But time and time again he wanted her to need him. He kept stepping in to rescue her, whether she required it or not.

Her eyes held his gaze. Locked in. Piercing a way into his depths. That is, until the gaze dipped to his mouth, and she licked her bottom lip.

His heart stuttered. He could feel the desire from here. Could feel that she was a woman of passion. The knowledge startled him as much as it seemed to shock her.

“Race you to the other side,” she whispered.