Page 29 of Ruby & Onyx

“Do you plan to swim in your dress, which you look ravishing in, or do you prefer to sunbathe in the nude?” I don’t need to look at him to know that he wears a devilish smile.

“Pig!” I shout. But he does make me realize that this dress isn’t suited for swimming. The delicate fabric wraps around my ankles, leaving my legs constricted and sweaty. Getting it wet would make movement impossible. Regardless, I will not give him the satisfaction of indulging in his question, nor in undressing in front of him. The dress will have to do. “Are you capable of speaking to me without making some suggestive remark?”

“If you’d rather me avoid the suggestive remarks, I’m happy to be more explicit. I can tell you in exact detail every last thing I want to do to you. Starting with –”

I cut him off, “Not what I meant! Stop twisting my words!”

He throws his head back in a roaring laugh. “I’m sorry, darling. I will do my best to refrain from making any more suggestive or explicit remarks.” He winks at me, and I return the gesture with an exaggerated eye roll and a pointed middle finger. “It’s a great compliment, really. Most women don’t have this effect on me.”

“How flattering.”

I hop onto the sandy beach, which is about a two-foot drop from the bottom of the stairs.

The cove at the bottom is surrounded by cliffs and has only a sliver of shore, making it feel secluded and safe. Pops of colorful pebbles intermix with the ultra-white grains of sand. I reach down and grab one to inspect. It’s a vibrant shade of blue with specks of yellow bursting from the center. Hundreds of similar rocks lay strewn about the beach like discarded toys, each one painted with a different pattern. When I look at the side of the cliff, I notice colorful edges jutting out of its side, as well.

It would have been a perfect escape, had I not learned that Olly monitors the stairs like a gargoyle. I bite back a smile at the mental image of him perched on the balcony, scowling at the world.

Luckily, the hum of gently crashing waves lulls me into a state of peace that not even Olly can disturb. I let out a sigh before removing my sandals, lifting the hem of my skirt with one hand, and stepping carefully into the sea. I shuffle my feet until the water is gently lapping against my shins. The cold shoots like pinpricks from toes to calves, but the chill is a shock worth feeling.

Splash.

A trickle of water lands on top of me, wetting the braid that Viola so carefully weaved. My head jerks around to find Olly with a childlike playfulness gleaming in his eyes, begging for me to return the favor.

Fine, two can play this game. I plunge my free hand into the sea and send a wave of icy water in his direction. He dodges it with ease, evading every drop. But I can’t let him win that easily, so I shovel water in his direction over and over again until it finally hits the mark.

At this provocation, he removes his damp jacket. And then his shirt. And as he reaches for his trousers, I try to ignore the racing of my heart. He tosses it all onto the shore with a devious smirk. Standing far too close to me in nothing but his diaphanous underpants, he says, “I couldn’t have you soaking all of my clothing, could I?”

I fix my eyes to the sky to avoid staring at the lines of his chiseled torso. He sends another splash in my direction before diving into the sea, where he moves with the long, graceful strokes of somebody practiced in the art. When he breaches, he shakes his head, and I find myself mesmerized. Despite how annoying he is, I can’t help but notice his beauty. But even the scales of a snake’s skin can be alluring.

He notices my stare and moves closer with the confident gait of a man on the prowl. I try to avoid him, but some part of me can’t resist. My heartbeat must be visible through my dress as it pounds wildly in my chest. My legs, which are now numb from the knees down, threaten to buckle. He stops only inches away, looking down his nose at me, and lifts a hand to my cheek. I straighten my shoulders and drop my skirt, allowing it to float around my knees.

His palm presses flat against my cheek while his thumb drifts lazily back and forth. That touch ignites something in me, and an unfamiliar surge shoots from my core and ruffles my throat. When our eyes lock, my breath hitches.

Gods, I don’t want him to see me flustered.

I whip my head around and start shuffling to shore. But after only a few steps, one of my feet sinks into a soft spot in the sand. I lose my balance and, with arms flailing desperately above me, I tumble beneath the surface until the shallow water swallows me whole. My entire body seizes against the cold and the prickling pain replaces the heat that was stirring only a moment ago.

I spring to my feet, sloshing water in every direction, and try to smooth back the hairs that are stuck to my face like water-logged tendrils. Without another word, I stomp back to the shore with my dress getting tangled between my legs at every step.

Olly looks like he could burst into laughter at any moment as he chases after me and reaches out a hand to help, which I forcefully slap away.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” I command.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smirks. I consider saying that his statement classifies as saying a word, but I hold back. I just want to get out of here.

Determined not to repeat my mistake, I carefully step out of the water. But each step takes far too long and severely prolongs my embarrassment. When I finally regain my footing, I refuse to look back at Olly, though I can still feel that smug grin burning a hole in my back.

I don’t know what came over me. As he stood there, so close that I could see the beads of sweat and seawater rippling down his skin, I felt a kindling in my chest, a tantalizing manipulation. It tricked me and made me want him to move closer. Made me want things that my brain was telling me, screaming at me, to resist.

When he placed his hand on my cheek, something snapped. It was a bonfire of desire and longing, want and need. But I know better than to fall for it. I can’t be tricked into signing over the rights to my life.

We can be friends, but that’s all.

I shove those fleeting feelings into a mental box to be locked away and never reopened, gods will it.

Chapter 11

After I dry off and clean up, Gemma and Viola escort me to my first lesson. Thankfully, they refrained from asking why I returned to my chambers sopping wet. My cheeks burn red hot at the thought of Olly’s muscular body moving through the water and my failed attempt to flee. I long for a way to wipe that memory clean.

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