Page 21 of Marquess of Stone

“I am perfectly capable —” she began, but his hands were already at her waist, the warmth of them seeping through her riding habit.

“Of course, you are,” he agreed, his voice low and amused as he set her on her feet. “But capability and acceptance of assistance aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.”

Marian stepped back, trying to ignore how her skin seemed to remember the pressure of his hands. “What exactly are we doing here?” she asked, her mind reeling with too many possibilities to make any real conclusion.

Instead of answering, he began removing his boots with decisive movements. His coat followed, draped carefully over a nearby branch. “Swimming,” he announced simply, as if it were the most natural suggestion in the world.

“Swimming?” Marian’s voice rose an octave. “Have you lost your senses entirely?”

“Quite possibly,” he agreed cheerfully, rolling up his shirt’s sleeves to reveal robust forearms tanned beautifully by the sun. “Though I would argue that rigidly adhering to society’s arbitrary rules is a far more concerning form of madness, do you not think?”

Before she could utter a suitably scathing response, he had waded into the water, the lake accepting him as if they were old friends sharing a secret. “Come now, Marian,” he called over his shoulder. “Surely your supposed headache isn’t so severe as to prevent you from partaking in a little adventure?”

Marian stood at the water’s edge, propriety and desire waging war within her chest. The water did look stunning — cool and inviting, a perfect antidote to the growing warmth of the day. And yet…

“I cannot swim,” she admitted finally, the words falling from her lips like pebbles into still water.

“You… you wish to swim in a lake or ocean, but you cannot swim?” The surprise in his tone was genuine but tender.

“A wish and an action are not the same.” She blushed a little. “I am scared.”

“And yet, here you are,” he said softly. “You have already come this far. What sense will it make to stop now? You are ready to defy the depths of the lake, as well as those of your confines.”

“Is that admiration I detect?”

“When it comes to what I have seen of your courage, yes,” he said honestly. “Though, perhaps with a touch of concern as well.”

“Concern? From the infamous Marquess of Stone? I shall have to alert the scandal sheets at once!” she laughed softly.

“Save your wit for dry land, My Lady,” he jested. “The water demands a different kind of bravery.” He extended his hand. “Let me teach you.” Marian eyed the water droplets dripping from his outstretched arm. “I promise to keep you safe.”

Something in his voice, in the gentle certainty of his words, made her breath catch. This was not the drawling aristocrat who delighted in teasing her, or shocking society, nor the mischievous troublemaker who had orchestrated their morning escape. This was something else entirely — something that made her heart flutter like a trapped bird.

With trembling fingers, she removed her own shoes and stockings, laying them carefully aside. The grass felt cool beneath her toes as she approached the water’s edge, each step a small rebellion against everything she had been taught was proper and right.

The first touch of water against her ankles sent a shiver up her spine. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “It is cold!”

“Does it not make you feel alive?” Nicholas asked, moving closer to her. “Trust me, Marian,”

She should have retreated to the safety of the shore, but instead, the look in his eyes drew her forward like a lodestone finding true north. She waded deeper, the water rising past her knees then her thighs, her skirts floating around her.

The next step forward sent her deeper, the water reaching her waist with alarming speed, and panic fluttered within her chest. “Nicholas! I cannot —”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his hands finding her waist once more, steady and sure. “Lean back, let the water carry you.”

The world tilted as Marian surrendered to his guidance, her body tensing just before the water embraced her. Nicholas’ hands remained steady, one at the small of her back, the other barely brushing her shoulder, each point of contact sending ripples of awareness through her that had nothing to do with the coldness of the lake water.

“There,” he murmured, his voice carrying the same gentleness as the water that now cradled her. “Not so terrifying after all, is it?”

Marian’s laugh bubbled up, unexpected and free. “I suppose not.” She let her eyes close, marveling at the sensation of weightlessness. “Though, I have to say, behavior like this is utterly shocking for a marquess.”

“Ah, but that is a marquess’ prerogative, did you not know?” Nicholas jested, and Marian smiled softly. “We are expected to be either paragons of virtue or utterly scandalous,” Nicholas continued. “I simply choose the more entertaining option.”

The water lapped at her ears, creating a curious symphony of muffled sounds and crystal-clear voices. She was acutely aware of Nicholas’ proximity, of how his hands had before her entire world of safety and danger — all at once.

“And which one am I then?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could catch them. “A paragon or a scandal?”

His thumb traced an absent pattern against her back, so light she might even have imagined it. “Neither,” he said quietly. “You are far too interesting for such simple categories, Marian.”

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