Page 2 of Wedded to the Scottish Duke

She ignored him and just swam as fast as she could, but then the worst happened. Deep within the arch of her foot, a pain began. The cramp stretched all the way up her leg and into her calf, crippling her.

“Argh,” she muttered, coming to a halt in the water.

“I’ll consider that a no,” the deep voice continued.

“Leave me be. Whoever you are, go back into the house, for God’s sake.”

“Aye, because that sounds like a wise decision, doesn’t it? To leave a lady to drown in a lake at night.”

“I’m not drowning!” Celia protested, though she swallowed a mouthful of water as she spoke, bobbing unevenly in the water as the leg cramp seized her.

Oh, God’s wounds. Let me wake up from this nightmare.

She tried to kick out, but her cramping foot made it impossible. Under the water, she clutched at the arch of her foot.

When she realized the stranger hadn’t spoken again, she tried to crane her head to look at him, spitting the water back out. He was still there, only he was not as still as before.

His frock coat fluttered to the ground, and now he was reaching for his shirt. She could just about make out his silhouette against the formal gardens as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“What are you doing—” She broke off to cough.

“Don’t die before I can get to you, lass.”

“I’m not dying!” she protested again.

She tried her best to stretch her foot and her calf, but now her other foot had become trapped in the vines. Completely hampered, she started to sink into the water.

Then a splash sounded.

The silhouetted figure had gone. For one mad second, she thought he had done as she had asked and walked away. All was cool and calm. The moonlight reflected on the water around her, but there was no sign that anyone else was out there with her. She only saw the moths dancing over her head.

Then her foot cramped harder. She kicked out, doing her best to keep her head above the water, but it was of little use. Her face slipped under the water, and she choked.

The moment suspended in the lake was awful. It seemed to stretch on, her eyes staring through the murky darkness. With the moonlight unable to penetrate through the reeds, she couldn’t even see her trapped leg.

Then she felt something. There was a firm arm around her waist.

I’m imagining it. It’s some crazy dream, that’s all?—

Before she could even finish the thought, that arm dragged her upwards. Her head emerged from the water again, and she began coughing up the water she had just inhaled.

“Breathe, lass,” that deep baritone said from a startlingly close place. His lips were practically pressed against the back of her head. “In through yer nose, out through yer lips.”

She did as he said, not thinking it through. She was too busy thinking of an arm, made of muscle, that was now brushing against the underside of her bare breasts.

This cannot be happening…

“What happened?” he asked, his lips now moving.

No, he’s not…

His lips seemed to brush against her neck. Stunned, she held herself completely still—she had little choice in the matter, with one leg tangled in the reeds. She wasn’t entirely sure, though, that she would have chosen to move if she could.

She didn’t even know what this man looked like, but apparently, the depth of that voice was enough to make her think of things she had never allowed herself to consider before.

I am wearing nothing, and from the feel of him, he isn’t wearing much either.

He started to swim with her, his chest pressed against her bare back. She gasped at the feel of toned muscles, imagining them pressed against her in all sorts of other ways.

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