Page 38 of Hooked

I decided to ignore the fact that I could feel the breeze on my ankles since my dress was no substitute for a riding skirt. It was dark. No one would know.

“Ready to go adventuring?” he asked, his voice all too close to my ear.

“Yes,” I said, though my voice shook.

He chuckled as he set the horse into motion. “Nervous?”

“About stealing a princess’s horse and running off to go swimming in the dead of night? Yes, I am.” No need to admit that what made me most nervous was him, and his closeness and the feel of his solid chest against my back.

“What were you and Emeline discussing?” I asked in an attempt to divert the conversation.

“I wouldn’t say we were discussing anything. She’s as quiet as ever. I was just telling her about our ride, making the story more interesting than it was. Not as interesting as your stories, but I did what I could.”

“My stories?”

“The ones you make up for Ansel and Lindy.”

“Oh,” I said in surprise. “Yes, I suppose you did hear some of them.” My cheeks flamed, embarrassed by the reminder that he’d likely heard my tales of “Walstone.”

He just grinned and kicked the horse into an easy lope. I turned to face front again, our discussion suspended for the few minutes that it took for him to navigate the horse to the swimming hole. The speed of our arrival left me almost no time at all to anticipate the fact that I’d agreed to go swimming with this man.

So when he pulled the horse to a stop and immediately swung down, I found a large knot of anxiety in my chest, cutting off my ability to form words even as he reached up and pulled me down.

“Good thing it’s such a warm night,” he commented as he pulled off his coat.

Saints, what had I agreed to? “The water will still be plenty cold though, I would imagine.”

“There’s a hot spring that bubbles up just there.” He pointed to the top of the swimming hole. “That’s why this spot is so popular. Why it’s been broadened and deepened by generations of children coming here. Still, you’ll want the dry cloak afterward,” he continued as he sat down and tugged at his boots.

It took me a moment to wade through my own nervousness and realize that his rambling was not customary. I focused on him, and the way his eyes darted from his boots to me and then back again.

Was he nervous as well?

The idea somehow eased some of my own apprehension and I reached up to unlatch my cloak before pushing it from my shoulders and letting it drop behind me.

His eyes darted to me again, and this time his nerves were obvious. He pulled off his second boot and jumped to his feet, heading toward the water and wading in chest-deep before turning back to look at me. I rested a hand against the trunk of a tree to steady myself as I removed my shoes and stockings.

Falstone bobbed in the water, sending me glances. Perhaps he thought I wouldn’t go through with it, but after I’d discarded my stockings, I seriously considered removing my dress as well. Only swimming in my chemise and stays would have been much easier, but I wasn’t that much of a heathen. Instead I just took off my apron and my petticoat to decrease the number of layers inhibiting me, then I plucked up my courage and ran for the edge of the pond, wading in several strides before diving beneath the water. The cool water left me breathless for a moment.

I overshot his position on purpose, coming up behind him and several feet upstream where the source of the hot spring made the water warmer. He turned at the sound of my splashing, his eyes shadowed, the moon lighting his hair.

I kept my body submerged, letting just my shoulders and head stay above the water, hoping the dim light hid my blush as I admired the way Falstone’s wet clothing conformed to his physique. Saints, he had a fine physique.

My dress tangled around my legs and as I tried to move, the heaviness of the fabric was too restrictive to ignore. I turned my back to Falstone and fought to unlace the strings that crossed my chest over my underthings, then pulled the dress from my shoulders.

“You’ve decided that not drowning is a higher priority than modesty?” Falstone asked from behind me. I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Living tends to be my priority,” I said as I pushed the fabric down my torso and over my hips before freeing my legs.

“Here,” Falstone said and he appeared at my side, hand out.

I shoved my dress through the water in his direction. He took it and heaved it onto shore, where it landed with a lush plop.

He looked back at me and I was grateful for the minimal light and the inky blackness of the water that hid my undressed state. Apparently I was a heathen, swimming with a man in nothing but my chemise and stays—a man who was looking at my face like he was incapable of looking away.

The moment stretched, filled with night sounds and moonlight.

“You’re very quiet,” I said, though my sparse voice barely cut through the rustling leaves and chirping crickets.