Page 80 of The Moonstone Marquess
The little girl shook her head. “No.”
“All right. We’ll keep playing right here.”
Suddenly, Imogen scampered to her feet. “Uncle Cormac!” She ran toward the outcropping with her arms outstretched.
Cormac had been carrying his boots in his hand but tossed them aside to scoop the little one up. “Did you think I had forgotten you?”
She nodded.
He kissed her cheek. “I never would. You know that, duckling.”
Phoebe now reached him and cast him a hesitant smile. “Chloe and I thought to teach the girls to swim. But Imogen doesn’t want to go in the water.”
“Will you go in with me, duckling? You know I would never let you come to harm. Nor would Phoebe. You can trust her to always keep you safe.”
“I know. But she isn’t as big as you,” Imogen replied.
Cormac smiled. “She’s the perfect size for a Phoebe. And you are the perfect size for an Imogen. I’ll take you into the water, if you will let me. All right?”
Imogen nodded.
They walked in silence back to the castle they had built. It looked little more than a lump of sand piled high, but Cormac dutifully complimented his niece on its grand design and remarked kindly on the animal shapes around it.
“You are a master builder, Imogen,” he said, giving her a kiss on her dimpled cheek.
Phoebe had picked up his boots and now set them beside their bag containing the towels and robes.
Since he had merely tossed on a work shirt instead of donning one of his fancier Savile Row shirts of softest lawn—and nor had he bothered with cravat, jacket, or waistcoat—he now removed the shirt and handed it to her, along with Imogen’s hat. “Weigh them down with my boots or they’ll fly off in the breeze.”
She did as he asked, although there was hardly any breeze.
And hardly a ripple on the water. It was almost as smooth as glass. The waves were tiny and hardly foamed as they gently broke along the sand.
Phoebe watched him with his niece. Imogen had such trust in him—she did not show a trace of fear as he waded into the water. Nor did she show a trace of revulsion at his missing arm. This was her beloved uncle, and she was going to love him no matter what.
Tears stung Phoebe’s eyes as she watched them together. The joy they each felt being together was palpable and magnificent.
Cormac’s body was also magnificent, but she could not allow herself to be distracted by that. But heavens, those broad, tanned shoulders. That manly chest. The flat ripples of his stomach. All of him glistening and wet.
He spared her a glance. “Come join us, Phoebe.”
She wiped a stray tear from her eyes. “All right.”
He kept tight hold of Imogen as they both watched Phoebe swim. She did not go out very far, just a little beyond them before she turned and swam parallel to the shore. Chloe was also holding on to Ella who was studying her movements as she glided over the water. “I want to do that,” Ella cried.
“You will,” Chloe assured her, and returned to teaching Ella to float on her back. Soon, Chloe was teaching her how to tread water.
Imogen was still clinging to her uncle and watching wide-eyed.
Phoebe swam over to her. “See, Imogen? You’ll soon be able to do this.” Certainly Ella would, for she took to the water like a fish and did not even hesitate to dunk her head beneath the surface.
It would take a lot more to get Imogen comfortable enough to do that. But she made a little progress, even enough to trust Phoebe when her uncle handed her over so he could take a swim. She’d thought he would have difficulty now that he had only one useable arm, but that did not appear to be the case.
He still managed to cut through the water with ease, his body beautiful and powerful as he skimmed along the surface, swimming the length of their beach and back toward them. He swam the last stretch beneath the water and came up behind them with a playful roar.
Imogen squealed with delight.
Phoebe’s body melted as he shook the water off him and brushed back his hair by raking his fingers through his dark mane. His eyes were a stunning, crystalline blue, and his smile was simply breathtaking.
