Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

R ingwood, Hampshire, England

“Well, at least I picked a warm night for this.” Celia shuddered, cursing the brisk wind of the summer night as she slowly slipped the robe down her shoulders. She hesitated, glancing back at the house a little distance behind her.

She had come for a two-week stay at Lady Caroline Arundel’s house in Hampshire. As one of many in the party, she had finally seen an opportunity to complete her dare.

Now her sister and her friends had all completed their dares, and somehow fortunately married well because of them, Celia knew she couldn’t delay the inevitable for much longer.

Her eyes darted between the windows as she chewed on her lip; it was so late at night that everyone had already gone to bed. They had arrived that afternoon, shared dinner, and then retired for the night. The only window still lit with a candle was in her chamber.

As a giggle of stolen delight escaped her, Celia turned back to face the water. She slipped the dressing gown all the way down her arms and dropped it to the ground. Wearing only her chemise now, she edged toward the water. She dipped her toes, and she hissed, startled by the iciness of the water, despite the hot weather.

I should have chosen to do this somewhere on the Continent—somewhere warmer.

Inhaling deeply, she looked around again at the lake. All was dark. The only light was from a sliver of the crescent moon peeking out from behind a cloud. The silvery light revealed a bank of trees along one side of the lake, then the rocky shore on the other. Off to the left was a formal garden, the flower heads just visible like little drops of silver.

I’m alone .

The thought emboldened her. She reached for the edge of her chemise and lifted it over her head. When she got out of the water, she knew she would want something to towel off with. She laid the chemise down behind her and then stepped further into the water.

“Oh!” she gasped at the coolness and pushed on further.

Curse my adventurous ways. Those girls had better believe me when I say I did this. I don’t want to ever do this again!

She forced herself to wade more quickly into the water. Her legs brushed against reeds, and she edged deeper and deeper, then plunged her head underneath and swam into the depths.

The water was no longer so cold, but almost warm and inviting. She dove and then broke the surface of the water again, laughing as she looked up at the moon.

Imagine the scandal if anyone saw me now!

She giggled again, turning on the spot as she looked back at the house. There was something incredibly freeing about this night. She was breaking all the rules, and yet… no one knew.

“Should a lady be doing that?”

Celia almost squealed in fright. She spun in the water, searching for that incredibly deep voice. It was practically a baritone, a warm thrum that reached deep into her core.

Then she saw him.

There was a figure standing by the formal garden. Either he was absolutely towering, or her position in the water made him look even more ridiculously tall.

Please let this be a dream, please let this be a dream!

“Who’s there?”

“I asked my question first, lass.”

She jumped at that deep voice. A fascinating hint of an accent altered the words, though she could not be sure where it was from.

Darn it, I’m not dreaming.

“Oh, God’s blood.”

Without thinking or turning back to face the shadowy figure again, she spun around in the water and thrashed her arms, swimming back toward the shore as quickly as she possibly could.

“Ye all right, lass?”

There was that accent again.

She ignored him and just swam as fast as she could, but then the worst happened. Deep within the arch of her foot, a pain began. The cramp stretched all the way up her leg and into her calf, crippling her.

“Argh,” she muttered, coming to a halt in the water.

“I’ll consider that a no,” the deep voice continued.

“Leave me be. Whoever you are, go back into the house, for God’s sake.”

“Aye, because that sounds like a wise decision, doesn’t it? To leave a lady to drown in a lake at night.”

“I’m not drowning!” Celia protested, though she swallowed a mouthful of water as she spoke, bobbing unevenly in the water as the leg cramp seized her.

Oh, God’s wounds. Let me wake up from this nightmare.

She tried to kick out, but her cramping foot made it impossible. Under the water, she clutched at the arch of her foot.

When she realized the stranger hadn’t spoken again, she tried to crane her head to look at him, spitting the water back out. He was still there, only he was not as still as before.

His frock coat fluttered to the ground, and now he was reaching for his shirt. She could just about make out his silhouette against the formal gardens as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“What are you doing—” She broke off to cough.

“Don’t die before I can get to you, lass.”

“I’m not dying!” she protested again.

She tried her best to stretch her foot and her calf, but now her other foot had become trapped in the vines. Completely hampered, she started to sink into the water.

Then a splash sounded.

The silhouetted figure had gone. For one mad second, she thought he had done as she had asked and walked away. All was cool and calm. The moonlight reflected on the water around her, but there was no sign that anyone else was out there with her. She only saw the moths dancing over her head.

Then her foot cramped harder. She kicked out, doing her best to keep her head above the water, but it was of little use. Her face slipped under the water, and she choked.

The moment suspended in the lake was awful. It seemed to stretch on, her eyes staring through the murky darkness. With the moonlight unable to penetrate through the reeds, she couldn’t even see her trapped leg.

Then she felt something. There was a firm arm around her waist.

I’m imagining it. It’s some crazy dream, that’s all ? —

Before she could even finish the thought, that arm dragged her upwards. Her head emerged from the water again, and she began coughing up the water she had just inhaled.

“Breathe, lass,” that deep baritone said from a startlingly close place. His lips were practically pressed against the back of her head. “In through yer nose, out through yer lips.”

She did as he said, not thinking it through. She was too busy thinking of an arm, made of muscle, that was now brushing against the underside of her bare breasts.

This cannot be happening…

“What happened?” he asked, his lips now moving.

No, he’s not…

His lips seemed to brush against her neck. Stunned, she held herself completely still—she had little choice in the matter, with one leg tangled in the reeds. She wasn’t entirely sure, though, that she would have chosen to move if she could.

She didn’t even know what this man looked like, but apparently, the depth of that voice was enough to make her think of things she had never allowed herself to consider before.

I am wearing nothing, and from the feel of him, he isn’t wearing much either.

He started to swim with her, his chest pressed against her bare back. She gasped at the feel of toned muscles, imagining them pressed against her in all sorts of other ways.

“Ye dead, lass?” he teased her.

“I’m not dead!”

“Then speak. What happened?”

“A cramp. And my other leg, it’s trapped…” She grunted as she tried to release her leg. “I do not need your help.” She did her best to wriggle out of his grasp. “I’m a perfectly capable swimmer.”

“Aye, aye, so ye are. Ye’re also trapped in reeds and drowning. Ye sound perfectly capable to me.”

“Arrogant sod,” she muttered and at last yanked her leg free.

She thought she had done it of her own accord, before she felt a thick hand close around her thin ankle. Shocked at the feel of his strong fingers on her, she held herself completely still.

“You can release me now,” she said after he kept holding on to her ankles for a few seconds.

“As ye wish.” He released her completely.

Her head plunged beneath the water.

“You bast?—”

The end of the word was drowned out by the water. She wasn’t even under for a second before his arm was back around her waist and pulling her up. She broke the surface of the water again, spluttering.

“Maybe this time I’ll just hold on to ye.” His lips were back by her ear.

She shuddered, though it had absolutely nothing to do with the coolness of the water.

He started to swim back with her, heading toward the shore.

All protests Celia now wished to make faded away as she realized the gravity of the situation. Had this stranger not been there, she would not have been able to get herself out of the water. What had started as a silly dare could have turned into a great tragedy.

As they reached the shallows where she could put her feet down, she winced the moment her foot touched the shingle.

“Don’t do that, lass.” His voice had softened. “Come here.”

“Come here? I’m not sure I could get much closer to you. This is hardly appropriate—what are you doing!?”

He moved too fast. In one swift movement, his thick arms had lifted her out of the water. With one under her legs and one around her back, he lifted her, bridal style, and walked forward.

Panicking, Celia turned her body, enough so that her breasts were hidden from him by her arm. Her most private area was also hidden as she crossed her legs. When she realized her attempt to hide from him merely meant she pressed her breasts against his skin, she started to shudder all the more.

“I could ask, what are ye doing?” he said with a deep chuckle.

“Do not look,” she warned.

“In the dark? Impossible to see much.”

She had to admit, he was right. Even this close to his face, she couldn’t really make out anything of him as he carried her out of the water. Was that dark hair, somewhat wild and bedraggled, curling around his ears? Or perhaps it was the dim light that made his hair seem dark.

One thing she could make out was his arms, mostly because she could feel them rather than see them. The strength of the arms around her back and under her legs was a shock.

She could only remember glimpsing a man with such strength once before. Her opera singer friend had taken her to see an illegal boxing bout in the depths of London one night. The fighter in that ring had had arms as thick as this man’s.

“There, lass. Ye’re safe.”

She tried not to shudder at those words. It was strange, for she did feel safe.

“Then put me down,” she pleaded.

He put her down at once, and she tried to dance away, but not before she felt something being pushed into her hands. It was his shirt. She hastily pulled it over her head, knowing her chemise and robe were too far away. In the time it took to find them, he might be able to glimpse all of her.

She pulled it over her body, before turning back to face him, searching for something bold to say.

For the first time in her life though, she was completely tongue-tied and flustered. The sight of his figure so tall and strong left her speechless.

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly. He inclined his head slightly, in acknowledgment of her gratitude. “But… there really was no need for you to interfere.”

She turned on her heel and marched around the lake, trying to reach her robe and chemise as quickly as she could.

“No need?” She could hear the smile in his voice as he followed her. “Ye could have drowned.”

“I meant your shirt.” She looked for excuses, waving the hem of his shirt at him as she marched away, all too aware that though it was much longer on her than it was on him, her legs were still very much on show. His shirt was now also sticking to her curves, as she was wet. “If we were seen… oh my Lord, I could have been ruined.”

Celia covered her mouth with her hands in horror as she slipped repeatedly on the shingle, trying her best to get to her clothes.

What whispers there were about her had never been confirmed. Her reputation was still mostly intact, for there had been no outright scandal, but if anyone heard about this, she would be done for.

Ma would never forgive this.

She could just imagine Marianne’s disappointed face and the tears in her eyes.

“Wait, ye’d be ruined just because I didn’t let ye drown? Aye, that makes sense.” His voice was still following her.

“I wouldn’t have drowned. I’m a skilled swimmer, and I would have gotten myself out.”

She found her robe and picked it up from the ground, wrapping it around her shirt-clad body as quickly as she could.

“So ye say.” He didn’t sound remotely convinced. “Ye’re shaking. Go back inside before ye catch yer death.”

“Are you giving me orders?” she huffed, unwilling to show that her shivering had much more to do with the fact that she had just been pressed, naked , against a shirtless man with arms that strong.

“Were ye planning on taking another dip before ye retired for the night?” he asked, the wryness in his voice obvious, though he didn’t laugh.

She huffed and turned on her heel, ready to leave and forget this night had ever happened, but then she hesitated.

He can’t say anything to anyone. If he does…

“Are you sure you didn’t see?—”

“I didn’t see anything,” he said, somewhat harshly. “I was rather preoccupied with saving yer life.”

She felt guilty for her sharp tone, but she couldn’t apologize for it. Part of her was still furious that she felt any attraction at all to a half-naked man she couldn’t even see properly.

“Fine.” She sighed with relief, tying up her dressing gown. “I… I will find a way to return your shirt to you, Sir,” she said quickly, turning away and intending to walk away from him again.

“It’s ‘Yer Grace’ to ye.”

She hesitated, her foot slipping on the shingle.

He cannot be a duke.

She hadn’t been introduced to a duke she did not know that evening when she had arrived. There had been no new face.

Is he lying?

“Of course, you are a duke.” She actually laughed as she tried to step away.

“Wait.” His hand suddenly caught her arm.

Breathless, she stilled. That hand, it was domineering. She should be frightened of it, scared of that power—she knew that, and yet she wasn’t. She was more fascinated than anything else, trying to make out through the darkness the way his strong fingers rested on her arm.

“Ye owe me now, lass. Remember that.” He pressed the chemise she had forgotten into her other hand.

“Owe you?” She laughed and turned, freeing herself from his grip. “I said thank you, didn’t I?” she called back challengingly as she ran away.

She sprinted back up to the house, her bare feet covered in mud and grit from the gravel paths. When she reached the house, she halted, turning back to look out toward the lake.

At a distance, she could just about make out his silhouette against the lake. Even so far away, he still looked tall.

As she rested her hand on the door handle, ready to make her way back inside, she thought of what had just happened. As much as she tried to focus on just how outrageous the incident was, she could not.

Her mind thought of strong arms instead. She thought of the arm that had brushed against the underside of her breasts, and the way he had so easily lifted her out of the water to carry her. She thought of his deep baritone voice, unlike any other she had ever heard. The mere memory of his voice made her bite her lip.

“I am not some foolish girl falling for the first man she finds attractive,” she muttered to herself and turned to enter the house.

She’d flirted before, she knew how to play the game, but this was unlike anything she had ever known before.

As she hastened to her chamber, doing her best to avoid being seen by anyone, one question kept plaguing her mind.

Who was that man?