One of their favorite summer pastimes was to spend the afternoon at the lake with their books. Augustine rarely came along—he was afraid of eels in the water, he said, although Prudence couldn’t recall a time she’d seen an eel. Prudence could picture the four of them now, walking down to the lake in single file, Honor carrying the picnic basket her mother had insisted they take along, and Grace with their books wrapped in a strap and hung over her shoulder, like a schoolboy. At the lake’s edge, they would strip down to their chemises and swim, diving beneath the surface, floating on their backs. When they’d tired of that, the four of them would lie on the grassy banks to dry, eating the cheese and bread from the basket, reading aloud from their books.
Oh, but she missed those days. Before they were out in society, before they’d entered the restrictive haut ton, before their every move was scrutinized, their words repeated across Mayfair salons. Standing in this lake with its lily pads, Prudence felt as if she were back at Longmeadow. As if she’d somehow stepped back in time, free to be the girl she’d been then.
She could be the girl she was then, at least today. Prudence abruptly dipped down, spread her arms across the water and kicked. She was swimming. Swimming!
She tucked beneath the surface and exploded into light again, laughing and sputtering at the small little shock the cold had given her. She swam out into the middle of the lake, expecting Roan to call her back, to warn her as Augustine would warn them. Your chemise will drag you under the water, you fool!
Roan didn’t call her back. Roan let her swim.
Prudence rolled onto her back and floated a bit in the middle of the lake, blinking up at the clear blue sky above her head. Her hair fanned out around her like seaweed, and she idly moved her hands, coasting along, feeling the sun’s warmth on her face, slowly moving her feet.
She turned her head and saw Roan still standing where she’d left him. She flipped around and swam slowly toward the shore. “Can you guess how long it’s been since I’ve swum in a lake?”
He shook his head.
“Years,” she said, astounded by it. “I’d forgotten how much I like it.”
She dipped down again and swam toward him, until she could stand in waist-deep water. She gathered her hair over one shoulder and with both hands squeezed the water from it. “Come and join me!” she called up to him.
He shook his head.
Prudence laughed at him. “Do you fear me now?”
“I fear what you’re doing,” he said. “The risk is too great.”
“Oh?” She ran her hands over her head. “It’s my risk to take, isn’t it?”
“It’s also mine,” he reminded her.
Prudence smiled. She stepped closer to him. “Roan...we will be in Himple within the hour. I will be sent off, and you’ll go home, and...and won’t you swim with me, only once?”
He smiled in that charmingly lopsided way he had. “You make this impossible, Pru. I’m a weak man.” His eyes moved deliberately over her. It was a dangerous look that he wore, one that was clear in its desire, and it made Prudence’s heart beat quicker. But she didn’t move from where she stood. She brazenly let him look at her, standing still as his gaze lingered on her breasts, clearly visible through the wet cotton of her chemise. She couldn’t believe all that had happened to her in the past twenty-four hours, how astoundingly different she felt. Yesterday at this time she’d been dreading the journey to Himple. And now? Now she was looking at a stranger with as much desire as he looked at her. She could feel it beating steadily in her heart, in her limbs, between her legs. She was alive. She was so alive.
Look at him. Roan was magnificent. There was no other word for a man built as powerfully as him. She recalled his mouth on her sex, how he’d held her so carefully and tenderly after he’d catapulted her to such carnal delights, his hand idly caressing her arm. She could see the heat in his eyes, even from a distance. Prudence had seen that look in men’s eyes before, but she’d never really known what it was. And she’d never seen it so deeply rooted as it was in Roan.
She dived under the water, swimming below the surface, letting the water carry her a bit before coming up for air, and glanced back at Roan.
The last time she’d swum like this, she’d been so young and ignorant of the world and the way things went, of all the things that mattered, and would be expected, and would be frowned upon. But nothing like that mattered in this little pond with the lily pads. This adventure had whisked her away from all the trappings of her life.
Roan had moved to the very edge of the water, his gaze so intent it seemed to burn her everywhere it touched her. He wanted her, and she wanted him. Prudence wouldn’t deny it—she wasn’t going backward. She would never be a maiden debutante again.
He lifted one leg and pulled off his boot. Then the other, first removing his gun from it. Prudence watched him as he unbuttoned his trousers and removed every stitch of clothing from his magnificent body. Roan was starkly naked now, his member erect. He was all hard planes and rippling muscles, and he walked unabashedly into the pond, his legs churning the water as he trod toward her. He seemed heedless of the bruises on his body, heedless of the possibility of anyone discovering them. He seemed heedless of anything but her.
The Scoundrel and the Debutante (The Cabot Sisters #3)
Julia London's books
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