Page 48 of His Runaway Duchess

Daphne placed her hands on her hips. “If I was going to run away, would I do it in a nightgown?”

“I don’t know,” he shot back defensively. “You’ve made plenty of poor choices lately. We both have.”

That was a fair point, and Daphne conceded it with a nod.

“I amnotrunning away,” she said firmly. “I’m going swimming.”

He blinked at her for a long moment. “Swimming?At this time of day?”

“It’s the perfect time to swim.”

“It’s dark!”

“Not quite.”

“You’ll drown.”

“I can swim.”

“You’ll freeze.”

“It isn’t that cold. Besides, I’ll only be in the water for fifteen or twenty minutes. It’s refreshing and calms the mind. You should try it sometime,” she snarked. “You look as though you’re about to die from an apoplexy half the time.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ifeelas though I’m about to die from an apoplexy. Sometimes I think it would be a mercy.”

“Don’t we all,” Daphne muttered.

She turned back towards the pool, her bare feet crunching against the shale. She’d intended to peel off her nightgown and swim naked—the most daring thing she could imagine—but she had no intention of doing that withhimthere. Goosebumps rose over her skin at the very thought.

She splashed deeper and deeper, the water like a silken caress, creeping up her calves, then over her knees, surging up her thighs until she was hip-deep. She turned then to face him and found that he was staring at her, his face unreadable.

“There, it’s not so bad,” she called. “You really should come in.”

“No, thank you.”

She arched an eyebrow, wading in deeper. “Are you going to stand there and gawp at me, then?”

He folded his arms tightly. “I am watching to make sure you don’t drown, woman, or else the papers will label me a murderer.”

She winced, plunging suddenly deeper, up to her chin. Itwascold, and her teeth chattered, but it was a thrilling, refreshing sort of cold.

“I won’t drown.”

“You’d better not,” he muttered.

There was a boulder overhanging the edge of the pool, and he clambered on top of it and settled down, his legs hanging over the water. Daphne began to swim, rolling onto her back and letting her hair fan out around her, like a mermaid’s. The nightgown was all but see-through now, plastered to her skin. She’d have to ask him to bring the coat right to the edge of the water, for modesty.

For some reason, that thought made desire tug at Daphne’s gut again, color rushing to her feet. There was an ache in the bottom of her stomach, pulsing almost between her legs. That felt like a shocking thing, so she held her breath and dropped entirely under the water, hoping to cool away the thoughts.

It worked, a little. When she resurfaced, Edward was watching the place where she’d disappeared, looking anxious. As soon as their eyes met, the anxiety on his face evaporated.

“I thought you’d been told when the wedding would take place,” he said, leaning back, “and you were running for your life.”

“I’ve made my peace with it,” Daphne responded, swimming a little closer to the side. The center of the pool was very deep, and she hadn’t swum in such a long time. Better safe than sorry. It was certainly not because she wanted to be close to Edward. Not at all.

Edward watched her for a moment. “I won’t be a cruel husband, you know. I really will leave you alone.”

“Perhaps I don’t want to be left alone,” she shot back. “Perhaps I want somebody I can be friends with. The thing about always asking to be left alone, Edward, is that sometimes you get what you ask for.”

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