Page 22 of Marquess of Stone

Her eyes flew open to find him watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch. The morning sun had caught in his hair, creating a halo that seemed deliciously at odds with the wickedness of his smile.

“You do not know me well enough to make such statements,” she protested though her voice lacked conviction.

“Do I not?” His eyebrow arched in challenge. “Let’s take stock, shall we?” He cleared his throat, his voice tinged with drama as he spoke, “I know you have a remarkable talent for fabricating convenient headaches. I know you ride as if you were born in the saddle, yet you have never learned to swim — a curious combination that speaks of carefully controlled rebellion. And, I know,” his voice dropped lower, “that beneath all your proper manners and your wit, and your sharp tongue, beats the heart of a true adventurer, a true romantic.”

The truth of his words struck her deeply — as beautiful and terrifying as summer lightning. She moved to stand, suddenly needing the security of solid ground beneath her feet, but her skirts tangled around her legs, betraying her balance.

Nicholas caught her against him, one arm sliding around her waist as naturally as breathing. “Careful now,” he muttered, and she could not tell if he meant her near-fall or if he was talking to himself.

They stood there, suspended in the water, propriety and desire warring in the scant space between them. She noticed the tiny droplets that clung to his long, black lashes, and she suddenly had the crazy urge to reach up and brush them away.

“This is… highly improper,” she whispered as her chest heaved though she made no move to increase the distance between them.

“Is it?” His free hand came up to brush a strand of wet hair from her cheek, the gesture achingly gentle. “Or is it simply honest? There are no masks here, Marian. No rules but those we choose to follow.”

His words held both safety and danger, and it sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the cool breeze lapping at her wet clothes. “And what of consequences, Nicholas?” she asked. “Those do not simply disappear simply because we wish it to be so.”

“No, they do not,” he agreed, his hand reaching up to let his thumb trace the edge of her jaw. “But I have found some consequences are worth the risk.”

The word ‘risk’ hung between them like a challenge, and Marian found herself swaying closer, drawn to him by something more powerful than propriety or reason. For one, single, breathless moment, she thought he might kiss her, right then and there — and she thought if he did, she would let him.

“You are trembling,” he observed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“The water is rather cold,” she managed though they both knew it for the lie it was.

“Is it? I have not noticed. Perhaps we should… do something else, to warm you up.”

“Such as?” Marian asked though her throat had gone treacherously dry.

“Such as learn proper swimming techniques.” He shot a teasing smile in her direction. “Or, whatever it is that the lady’s heart desires.”

“That seems rather… unspecific.”

“That is the intention. Though, I should warn you, Marian,” he said, his eyes burning into hers with a quiet intensity, “some wishes, once granted, cannot be undone.”

They stood there for a moment, the air electric between them. Marian suddenly became intently aware of the coolness of the water, the dampness of her clothes sticking to her skin, and the polarizing heat radiating from Nicholas’ sturdy frame as he stood in front of her.

Then a distant church bell tolled, shattering the intimate spell into a thousand pieces. Reality crashed back with the force of an ocean wave, and Marian took a step backwards, her heart still thundering loudly against her ribs.

“We should return,” she said, hating how breathless she sounded. “They will be back from the village soon.”

Nicholas’s expression was unreadable as he helped her to shallower water. “Of course,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. “We would not want to cause a scandal.”

But as they rode back to the estate, Marian could not shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted between them as they had stood in the cool lake water. It was not just the memory of his hands against her waist, or the way he had looked at her — though, God forbid, the look in his eyes had been enough to make her forget her name, and everything else entirely.

It was the dangerous knowledge that she was indeed exactly what he had named her — an adventurer at heart with romantic tendencies, trapped in a cage of societal expectations and duty that suddenly seemed far too small now that she had begun to taste freedom.

What she did not know — what sent a thrill of equal parts excitement and terror through her — was whether she was strong enough to break free of that cage or brave enough to face what awaited her outside it’s confines.

And as Nicholas handed her down from her horse at the stable entrance, his touch lingering just a moment too long, she caught a glimpse of something in his eyes that suggested he might be the key, the missing piece to answering both those questions.

“Was it worth it?” he asked. “The risk of scandal, the cold water, all of it?”

“I have not reached my conclusion yet,” she countered though a blush crept up on her cheeks.

“Have not you?”

“Perhaps, though, some conclusions are better left unspoken.”

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