Page 26 of Taken By the Broken Duke
“It is manmade. A channel runs from the moat below ground to empty into this basin, and thus create the lake. Once, it was the cornerstone of the grounds. There is a boating house on the island over there.” He pointed west, toward the island, yet her eyes never wavered from his. “Long consumed by the trees. I spent many happy hours here as a child.”
He stopped abruptly. The confession had escaped him involuntarily. It had not been his intention to reveal a personal fact about himself. He did not know if he could trust this woman. At least, that is what his head told him. His heart was a different matter.
Noting his sudden silence, she spoke up instead, “It reminds me of a place I had when I was a little girl. At my home.”
“Your Uncle Gilbert’s house?” Horatio asked, curious, despite himself.
“No. That was never home.Torminster. My father’s house. It is not there any longer. There was a fire…”
She trailed off, looking down at the water somberly. Horatio felt the searing pain along his back as he always did when reminded of the terrible fire that had made those scars. The fire that had deprived him of lodging, and Hall of livelihood. Until the death of Horatio’s father, that is.
“There was a river that flowed by Torminster. Slow and shallow. Perfect for swimming. On a hot day, it was simply heaven,” Juliet continued.
“I was barred from swimming here after I arrived at luncheon dripping wet, having misjudged the time,” Horatio chuckled lightly, “I received a thrashing for that, but it did not deter me.”
“Nor I,” Juliet smiled.
Horatio looked across the mirrored water at her, squinting against the glare of the sun that was suddenly brightly reflected.
“You were beaten? A girl?”
“My Aunt Margaret did not believe that sex should be any bar to corporal punishment.”
“Hmph. It does not sit right with me. A boy is a wild creature, in need of discipline. A girl is different,” Horatio said, firmly.
He found the notion of anyone raising their hand to Juliet abhorrent. As an adult, she seemed fragile and delicate. It was simply criminal to strike at such vulnerable femininity. He remembered her swooning on the balcony of the Great Hall. Remembered her paleness, beyond the usual milky whiteness that was the characteristic of gentlewomen. Was she suffering from an ailment? If so, that meant the application of corporal punishment was even more monstrous. The very notion that shehad been struck swarmed in him an urge to toss that old Godwin out of his house, bodily if need be.
“I should dearly love to try the water. It looks idyllic,” Juliet said thoughtfully.
“Then do so,” Horatio waved at the lake. “You are wearing undergarments, yes?”
Juliet glanced up at him beneath long lashes, face scarlet, and he laughed. It was sudden and unplanned but heartfelt.
“I meant no disrespect. Of course you are. I did not appreciate how that question sounded until the words were out of my mouth,” he chuckled.
Juliet smiled demurely in return. Her eyes shone amid her scarlet cheeks. Horatio was struck by her innocent beauty. There was a purity to her that he had never encountered before. Even from Jane.
“Will you turn your back while I undress?” she asked.
Horatio was momentarily taken aback by her candor.
He had playfully suggested that she swim, but had not really expected her to do so. There was courage in her, a daring even. It was an attractive quality. Horatio had to remind himself that the Godwins were undoubtedly his enemies. Juliet may not bea Godwin but she had been raised in their house. That should make her an enemy too.
But, he could not embrace that thought when it came to her.
He realized that he did not want to follow the rational edicts of his head. To keep her at a distance was prudent. His heart wanted to know more about her. Felt a kinship with her. Perhaps born out of their mutually traumatic histories. Perhaps born out of her very tangible influence on the outcome of his youth.
He rose on the rock, turning his back, and then leaping from its highest point into the cool water. Within seconds, he was powerfully swimming for the island, reaching it in a dozen strokes and dragging his feet up the shingle shoreline. He did not turn around but stood, facing the trees, and waiting.
Presently, he heard a splash.
Turning, he saw the spreading circle of ripples. On the promontory, he could see something white, a discarded dress. He waited for her to resurface. She did not. He scanned the lake from the ripples to the rock on which he had stood. The surface of the water stilled. With the sun glossing over it, he could not see beneath the expanse.
“Juliet?” he called.Nothing. “Juliet!” he shouted louder this time, realizing now it was an exercise in futility.
Immediately, he sprinted and waded back into the water, trying to see beneath the glare, looking for any sign of Juliet. The lake was as still as a mill pond.
Finally, he dove into the water. Eyes wide, he surged forward, searching among the dark weeds for any sign of the woman. Perhaps the shock of the cold water had overwhelmed her. Or maybe she had dived too deep and become entangled. His lungs began to burn as he kicked forward and down, looking all around for her. Fear gripped him. She would not have entered the water had it not been for him.
