Chapter 14

"Iwish I could say this is a new experience," Lenore said lightly, determined not to appear downcast at being stuck with a man who'd obviously changed his mind about her. "But I've been stuck on an island before. That one was quite a bit bigger than this one, of course. More tropical, too."

A shout from the lakeshore off to their right interrupted whatever Rhys had been about to say, and they both turned to see Carys and a now-dressed Tristan waving at them.

"Lost your oars?" Carys called, her laughing, throaty tones carrying across the water like a peal of bells. "Oh, bad luck!"

"Any chance you want to row out here and bring us some?" Rhys called.

Gryff cupped one hand behind his ear. "What's that? Can't hear you, old chap. Must have water in my ears."

His amused laugh echoed across the lake.

"Carys!" Rhys cajoled, changing tack. "Favorite sister!"

Carys grinned at his pleading tone. "I'm your only sister, you dolt. Of course I'm your favorite. Which means that I'm also, by default, your least favorite, too."

"Where's your Davies Loyalty?" Rhys bellowed, clearly abandoning his attempt to charm her.

"I'm afraid my loyalties are now equally split between Davies and Montgomery." Carys shrugged and glanced up at her husband. "And poor Gryff needs to get home and dry his hair. I'd hate for him to catch a cold."

"Sweet wife," Gryff grinned, bending to press a kiss to her lips before he turned back toward Rhys and Lenore. "Have fun!" With a final wave he took Carys's hand and tugged her back into the trees.

Rhys let out a long, frustrated sigh and Lenore watched with flagging spirits as Morgan and Harriet reached the boat dock and made a big show of putting both sets of oars safely back into the shed. With a wave, they too, disappeared from view.

She took a deep breath. "So. What's the plan? Find a couple of branches and use them to row back to shore? Swim?"

Rhys sat down on the strip of thick grass that bordered the shingle beach and stared out across the water. "Are you any good at swimming? Most ladies don't know how."

Lenore sank down next to him. "Of course. Father made sure we knew how before we set sail on our very first expedition. We had lessons in the river, right here at Newstead."

She sent him a sideways glance, unable to resist teasing him. "Of course, if we're going to swim, we'll need to take off most of our clothes."

She heard him suck in a breath, and continued breezily, "These skirts and petticoats would just hamper my legs and drag me down when they get wet. And my stays would have to go, too. Very restricting, trying to swim in stays."

A muscle ticked in Rhys's jaw, and she stifled a laugh, certain she was getting to him with her mental undressing.

"In fact, I'd probably have to strip right down to my shift and my stockings." She paused for dramatic effect. "It would be quite scandalous, actually. I bet my shift would turn completely transparent."

Rhys stood abruptly and turned away. "You're not swimming anywhere."

"You mean you're going to strip off and go?"

Oh, she was wicked. Half of her wanted him to do just that, purely so she could see him as gloriously undressed as Gryff had been, but if he did choose to swim, she'd be left here alone, and their adventure would be over. She didn't want that. She wanted to steal as much time with him as she could,

"I don't think you should go," she said decisively. "The water must be very cold."

"Gryff managed it," Rhys growled, still with his back to her.

One of the inside seams of his breeches had split during his brawl with Morgan; she could see the most tantalizing sliver of bare, tanned skin on the inside of his left thigh, just above his knee. Her fingers itched to touch it.

"Why don't we just wait a while and see if someone else comes along?" she suggested.

He didn't reply, which Lenore took to be reluctant assent, so she bent and picked a daisy and started to pull off the petals one by one.

He loves me. He loves me not.

Which would it be?

"You should see the color of the sea on the islands near Madagascar," she said, determined to avoid an awkward silence. She always chattered when she was nervous. It was one of her worst traits. Women were always thought more alluring if they stayed silent and mysterious. But she was past using such wiles with Rhys. If he'd changed his mind about wanting her, then she might as well talk as much as she liked.

"It's an incredible turquoise color, and the sand is almost white. The water's so clear you can see the bottom even when it's very deep, and the fish come in every color of the rainbow. Spotted and striped, all shapes and sizes. They make our British fish look very dull in comparison."

Rhys rolled his shoulders. "The coast of Portugal was like that. Not that I saw it for more than five minutes before we all marched inland."

She cast around for something positive to say about their predicament. "At least there are no snakes here. Or insects that might kill you. The jungle's full of snakes and spiders that are deadly. The fer de lance, for example, can kill a person with just one bite."

Rhys seemed to have recovered his previous good humor. He turned around and sat back down next to her. "That's true. We only have a few adders over here in Wales. I've never seen one."

She nodded. "And no water snakes either. I wrestled one once, you know. In Brazil."

"Why am I not surprised?" Rhys's tone was dry and slightly mocking, but she took it as a compliment, not an insult.

"I didn't mean to," she protested. "But it seized one of the village dogs and I couldn't just let it just squeeze the poor thing to death right in front of me, could I?"

"Course not," Rhys said. "Totally reasonable reaction. Anyone else would have run screaming into the jungle, but not you. Not a Mad Montgomery. You decide to wrestle the thing. With your bare hands, no doubt. Or did you employ the same method you used with the panther, and use your shoe?"

Lenore looked out over the lake, not quite sure if he was mocking her or not. He sounded more amused than censorious.

"Well, first I hit it with a stick, and when that didn't work, I put a rope around its throat and tugged until it let go of the dog and slithered off into the jungle." She shrugged. "It was quite a small anaconda. A male, probably. The females can get to be enormous."

Rhys gave a theatrical shiver. "I have never been more glad to be back on Britain's boring, rainy shores."

Lenore chuckled. "The only snakes you find here are the ones slithering around the ballrooms of Mayfair, trying to snare a rich wife."

She sighed and picked another daisy. The last one had finished on he loves me not, which was . . . unacceptable.

She'd try best of three.

"I'm sure we won't be here for long," she said bracingly. "Someone will come and rescue us. It's not as if they're going to make us stay here all night."

"You're probably right."

"I had to wait weeks to be rescued near Madagascar, but it wasn't that bad. There were plenty of people talk to, and enough food. Only Caro had the misfortune to be separated from the rest of us. She and Max were swept onto a different island, just the two of them."

"And now he's her husband," Gryff growled.

Lenore shrugged. "Being stranded is obviously a good way for people to bond."

"Or to convince them that murder isn't such a terrible idea after all," he said dryly.

"Oh, hush. This isn't so bad. It's a pleasant way to pass the evening."

To prove her point she leaned back on the springy grass and put her hands behind her head. The late afternoon sunlight dappled her face through the fluttering leaves and sparkled off the rippled surface of the water.

Rhys gave a deep sigh of resignation. "You're right. It could be a lot worse."

Lenore wasn't sure how to take that comment.