Until she realized Una and Rodina had not yet joined her in the pool, nor could she hear them. Mared swam back into the middle of the pool to have a look.
Now she couldn’t even see them—it looked as if they’d left her. “Pity they canna enjoy a summer day,” she muttered to herself and dipped beneath the surface, swimming underwater toward the bank where she’d left them. When she resurfaced, she spied Cailean at the edge of the water, his tail wagging excitedly. Mared laughed, pushed wet strands of hair from her eyes, and looked again at Cailean—
And her heart stopped beating. It literally stopped beating, and for one long moment, she could neither draw a breath nor release one. Her shock was suffocating her, for there, standing just a few feet away from the dog, was Payton, and behind him, Murdoch, stripping foliage from a tree.
It looked as if he had ridden all day—his hair was windblown beneath his hat, and his boots spattered with mud. He was wearing buckskins and a lawn shirt, open to the chest, and she could see the sheen of perspiration glistening on the soft down there. He’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and his hands were on his waist, his weight on one hip, his head down, and his expression dark enough to fill her with alarm.
Diah, he’d come home early, then.
But worse than that, far far worse than that—she was naked. Thanks to her audacious swaggering for the benefit of Rodina and Una, she had made an enormous mistake. And now she was treading water in the pool, utterly and completely naked, and Payton was glaring at her as if he’d have her head.
Even at this distance, and in spite of being covered with water from the neck down, she covered herself as best she could with her hands while she continued to tread water.
“Miss Lockhart,” he said calmly, his voice cold, “I can only assume that if ye have time for swimming after completing yer daily household chores, then I have no’ given ye enough work to occupy yer time, aye?”
Oh, this was not the least bit good, was it? She pondered what to say, having been caught with her hand, as it were, in the plum pudding, and decided that honesty was the best and only course. “I beg yer pardon, sir, but I’ve no’ completed any chores as of yet. It seemed too hot for it.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Too hot?”
“Aye. Too hot. Very hot.”
That caused him to shake his head and look at the ground for a moment. “And do ye think it fair, Miss Lockhart, that the chambermaids in yer charge must toil in the heat while ye enjoy a bit of a swim?”
Well of course she didn’t, but she could hardly confess they’d been here, too, not in good conscience, really, since she’d practically forced them here against their will. “No,” she said at last.
“Then ye willna mind doing the rest of their chores today so they might seek respite from the heat, too, aye?”
How she hated to be cornered by logic! “No,” she muttered at last.
“Very good, then. I told them as much when I sent them back to the house,” he said, and damn him if a tiny hint of a smile didn’t suddenly appear on his lips. “Come out of there at once.”
“I, ah, I…I will. At once, I swear it. If ye’d just go on, I’ll be along momentarily.”
“Oh?” he said, lifting two thick brows. “What is it, Miss Lockhart? Were ye missing this?” he asked, and held out her chemise, which heretofore she had not noticed he was holding. Her purple chemise, to be exact, that had once been very white.
Her shame burned all the way to the roots of her hair. “All right then, ye’ve had a spot of fun,” she said. “Just leave it and please go now.”
Payton chuckled low. “I think no’,” he said, and tossed the chemise to her. “Put it on.”
“I canna put it on in the water!”
“The alternative is to put it on here, so I suggest ye try,” he said, and with his legs braced apart, his arms folded implacably, he stood watching her.
With a huff, Mared grabbed the undergarment before it sank. She turned her back to him and struggled to put it on. When she turned around again, he had not bothered to hide his pleasure at her embarrassment.
With an icy glare, Mared continued to tread water, her chemise billowing around her. The exertion of donning clothing in the water on top of having swum for so long was taking a toll on her—she was beginning to tire and really needed to come out. “Now will ye go?” she asked him, panting. “I canna swim any longer.”
“Then by all means, come out.”
“I canna come out with ye standing there!” she protested.
“Ye should have thought of that before ye went in.”
“All right, all right, ye’ve made yer point, sir,” she protested with a groan. “I’ve behaved badly and now I’ve been humiliated for it. So will ye please turn round? I’m no’ decent.”