Chapter 3

Suddenly, Marina became keenly aware of her situation… and how damn awkward it was.

She was dressed in a simple white muslin gown, but it was soaked through and clung to her body so tightly that her curves and everything else could be seen clearly. Her dark brown hair, previously curled, was flat and stuck to her face, her neck, her chest, and everywhere else. Her make-up was likely running. She stood awkwardly, torn between climbing out of the fountain and wanting to drop back under the water and hide. And well… really, she must have looked a fright.

"I-I am fine!" she stammered as she tried, and failed, to cover herself. "Quite sane, I assure you."

"What on earth are you doing?" the man asked.

Marina refused to look at him, as if ignoring him might make him vanish.

"Oh, nothing worth dwelling on…" She pulled at her dress, forcing it off her body, only for it to snap back and cling to her again.

"Did you fall?"

She could see the man approaching the fountain out of the corner of her eye. Standing right at its edge now. Watching her…

"I… I…"

Her mind raced as she tried to come up with a reason for being in the fountain. A quick glance about confirmed the dog to be nowhere in sight, and she wondered if the handsome stranger would even believe her.

"Do you need some help?"

She caught sight of his hand reaching across the fountain, and knowing that she couldn't simply ignore it, Marina looked from the hand to its owner. And when she did… well, she really wished she hadn't.

Oh, he was so very handsome in every conceivable way. Tall, yes. Well built—his shoulders alone looked as if they could support the weight of a horse. But it was his eyes that had her staring, again, with her mouth hanging open. As blue as the water that she was half-submerged in, sparkling in the summer sun, looking upon her with a sense of concern that made her feel seen in a way she didn't think she had ever felt before.

Despite the cold wind that blew at her, Marina felt her body run hot suddenly. Flushed, was how she felt. A warmth spreading from her feet to her thighs to her stomach to her face, which she knew must have turned red. Her heart began to pound inside her chest as if trying to escape. Her mouth turned dry. Her mind emptied of all thoughts save for the obvious one: that this man was divine.

"I… there was… I did not fall in…" She could barely speak, such was the way that she was feeling.

It was a sensation that she had never felt before, so she had no idea how to explain it. Certainly, she had never felt this way around Lord Rutley.

"So, you went in of your own accord?" The handsome man frowned. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"I did not say that!"

"So, you did fall?" He wore a hint of a smirk, as if mocking her.

"No!" she gasped. "I did not fall. I?—"

"Went for a little dip then… in the middle of the day?" He raised an eyebrow at her, that sense that he was mocking her now on full display. "How strange of you."

"There was nothing strange about it!" she stammered, unable to keep her composure.

"Not from where I am standing. You see, where I am from, fountains are not built for swimming, but for admiring. From this side of the water."

Marina took a deep breath in an attempt to stop shaking with embarrassment. "I did not fall. And I certainly did not go for a dip, as you say. There was a dog! It jumped on me, and I fell."

"Oh, you saw Sir Charles?" The man pulled his hand back, and he looked about the grounds eagerly. "Did you see where he went?"

"Sir Charles?"

"My dog," he confirmed, still looking around.

"To be fair, it wasn't so much a dog as it was a bear," she joked. "So, if you have lost your bear, then yes, I believe I saw him."

He turned back to her and frowned again. No smile. No smirk. Not so much as an indication that he had found the joke funny or understood it at all.

His frown deepened as his eyes roved over her. From her thighs to her waist to her breasts, all exposed for the way the dress clung to her. He seemed to study her, to take her in, to enjoy what he was seeing because she noticed a glint in his eyes, a hint of desire noticeable in the way his cheeks flushed ever so slightly.

"So, you saw him?" He gave his head a shake, snapping himself back into the moment. "Did you see which way he went?"

"I am afraid I was a little distracted," she scoffed, a little annoyed now that he was more concerned about the dog than her. "Being pushed headfirst into a fountain will do that to you."

"Perhaps if you were not standing so close to the edge," he offered simply. "No doubt Sir Charles was just being friendly."

She narrowed her eyes at him, annoyed now that he was taking this situation so lightly. "No doubt he was." And then she added under her breath, "Perhaps his owner could learn a thing or two."

Whoever this man was, he hadn't heard, for he was looking around the grounds again. "He cannot have gone far. Likely, he has gone home."

"You live close by?"

He turned back to her. "I do. I am on the neighboring estate. And you?"

"I—" A sudden chill ran through her, and she lurched forward.

"My God, here." The handsome, if not slightly dispassionate, man reached his hand out again as he put one foot up on the edge of the fountain. "I think you've had enough of a swim for one day."

"I was not swimming," she mumbled awkwardly as she took his hand. "I told you, I was—wow!"

She yelped as he pulled her forward, and she very nearly fell face-first into the water again, only for his hands to grab her by the waist and lift her.

It was so effortless for him. Both hands gripping her waist, she flew into the air as if she weighed nothing and was then placed down on the ground before him with perfect care. And once on the ground, his hands stayed right where they were, holding her as he looked down at her, those blue eyes studying her intently.

"Are you sure you are all right?" he asked, his body so close now that she could feel his warm breath on her face.

"I…"

Something happened to Marina at that moment, something she had never felt before, something so strong and primal and instinctive that she forgot how to speak because suddenly it seemed that speaking was the least important of things that her lips might do.

"I… I…"

He was still holding her. Still looking down at her. Their bodies were pressed together. She could feel the heat radiating off him… His warm breath alone drifted down the few inches from his mouth to her lips and spread over them, making her moan involuntarily.

It was a sensation unlike any other. Marina felt herself leaning forward, her lips parted, driven by an urge to kiss him in ways she didn't even know existed.

"Miss?" the man asked, not moving back, but with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Oh!" Marina snapped herself out of it, suddenly realizing where she was and what she had very nearly done! "J-just a little chilly."

She tried for an innocent smile and shuddered as if feeling cold.

"Yes…" The man clicked his tongue. "Here—" He released her waist suddenly, and she nearly cried out. But then he took off his coat, and before she knew what he was doing, the coat was around her shoulders. "This should help."

The effect was instantaneous, and although Marina's body was running warm from the handsome stranger's mere presence, the coat blocked out the wind in a way that she desperately needed.

"Oh, thank you."

She wrapped the coat around herself and rubbed her arms. As she did, the man continued to study her, and she could feel those eyes looking right at her, through her, as if deciding something.

"So, you live next door?" she asked, more to break the tension than anything.

"I do. But I do not recognize you. Please tell me you did not trespass on this estate to take a dip in the fountain."

"What? No!"

Is he serious?

"So, you are a member of the staff then?" He tilted his head as he looked her over. "You are rather well dressed for a?—"

"I most certainly am not!" She stomped her foot.

"All right." He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

She balked. "I, ah… I am friends with Amelia—Lady Amelia Notley. My sister and I will be staying with her for the remainder of the Season."

"Oh." He took a step back. "You are friends with Lady Amelia."

The disdain in his voice was obvious, as was the curl in his upper lip.

"Is that a problem?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "I take it you are friends with her?"

"I am." The nervousness that had been crippling her since she first laid eyes on him was gone, replaced by self-righteous anger. She looked him in the eyes and raised an eyebrow. "I take it you are not?"

"She is… strange, do you not think?"

"Not at all."

He chuckled. "I suppose I should not be surprised. Someone who takes midday dips in fountains for fun would likely fit right in with her."

"And I told you…" She pursed her lips and scowled at him. "I did not take a dip. It was your dog who?—"

Suddenly, a cold shudder ran through her, as if someone had poured ice down her back. She lurched forward again, nearly headbutting the stranger.

"You are freezing." He took the edges of his coat and wrapped them tighter around her. "I suggest that you go inside and warm yourself."

A minute ago, Marina might have been upset to be parted from the handsome stranger so suddenly. More so, seeing as he was the one who suggested it. But despite his dashing good looks, she was beginning to understand that he was as arrogant as he was good-looking. Who was he to judge Amelia?

"Yes, I think I will." She took a purposeful step back.

"Well…" He smiled, but it wasn't warm. "It was lovely to meet you…?"

"Lady Marina Garvey," Marina said coldly.

He nodded in understanding. "I am sure I will be seeing you." And then, without another word or even offering his own name, he turned on his heel and walked away.

And Marina was left staring after him. She decided that she did not like the man. Not one little bit! He was rude and arrogant and as plain as a slice of bread. No, he was not someone she wished to see again.

And yet, deep down—or perhaps it was on the surface?—she watched him go with a strange sense of longing, her eyes straying to his buttocks, which looked a little too good in those white pants of his. Tight and firm and not at all unappealing. It made her stomach flutter and the warmth return to her body. A sensation she did not recognize, one she had never felt with Lord Rutley, and something that she knew would haunt her for some time to come.

If she was lucky, she would not see him again. And if she was even luckier… well, then she would see him again. She did, after all, still have his coat wrapped around her. And it would be rude not to return it to him, right?

"Amelia, if you try and tell me that we are eating people," Cecilia warned, clutching a knife in her hand and widening her eyes, "I will take this knife and drive it into your eye."

"Me? Never," Amelia gasped and touched her chest as if shocked. "Why would I do such a thing?"

"I can think of a few reasons."

"Eating people?" Lord Trowbridge frowned at his daughter, and then he groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Amelia, what stories have you been spinning this time?"

"I do not know what she is talking about, Father," Amelia replied innocently, batting her eyelashes at him. "It must be the long trip from today. Making her imagine things."

"Amelia…"

"She is right," Cecilia interjected, most surprisingly. "I do not know what got into me."

Amelia blinked, caught by surprise at Cecilia's comment. But then she caught her stare across the table and the grin she wore. "See? I have been nothing but a perfect host."

"Oh, no, she has been a horrendous host," Cecilia said simply. "But she is doing her best. So surely that counts for something?"

Lord Trowbridge's frown deepened as he looked from his daughter to Cecilia, who were both giggling. He might have followed up on the comment, but clearly, he knew his daughter well enough not to bother. So, rather than waste his time on that, he cleared his throat and focused on Marina.

"Lady Marina, how has your day been? Settling in, I hope? Despite my daughter's antics."

Marina had decided not to tell Cecilia or Amelia about the stranger she had met earlier. She told herself it was because she did not wish to reveal her dip in the fountain, for she would never hear the end of it. But also mostly because she did not want to reveal who had pulled her from the fountain.

She still could not put him out of her mind, no matter how hard she tried. Even if she did not like him. Even if she might have hated him. Whenever she thought of those clear blue eyes and the way they looked at her wet body. Not to mention his coat, which was now in her room, thrown across her bed so that his scent might seep into her pillows…

She shook her head to stop herself from going down that path. "It was lovely, My Lord," she answered. "And again, thank you so much for allowing us to stay with you."

"Think nothing of it," Lord Trowbridge said with a smile. "We are honored to have you. After what happened…" He sighed. "But let us not talk about that. Ever again."

"Agreed," Amelia concurred. "Cecilia?"

"I have already forgotten what we are talking about." Cecilia winked.

It was nice to see the two women finally getting along. Clearly, Amelia's off-color sense of humor was starting to rub off on Cecilia. And just in time, too, for Marina had not looked forward to sitting through supper with the two if they were to bicker the entire time.

That was where they were at the moment, sharing their first supper at Trowbridge Estate. The Lord Marquess of Trowbridge had joined them, of course. Marina did not know a kinder man. He was older than her father, with gray hair and a receding hairline that ran halfway up his scalp, and with a pot belly. He was also tanned, his skin wrinkled like leather. But she had known him her entire life, and he had always treated her like family.

"That reminds me," he began as he took a sip of wine. "Tomorrow night, we have guests."

"Oh!" Amelia's eyes widened. "Who, Father?"

"The Duke and his younger brother, Lord Hugh Hayward. And possibly the Dowager Duchess of Templeton."

"Really?" Amelia's eyes flashed with excitement.

"It was Lord Hugh who suggested it, in fact," Lord Trowbridge continued. "When he heard who we had staying with us, he insisted."

"I bet he did." Amelia smirked.

Marina eyed her friend curiously, noting the way her cheeks flushed at the mention of Lord Hugh. She might not have been well versed in the ways of romance, but she knew that look as well as any other. And indeed, when she met her friend's eyes down the table, Amelia winked as if she could read Marina's mind.

"The Duke?" Cecilia asked excitedly. "The Duke of Templeton?"

"That's the one," Lord Trowbridge confirmed.

"Oh, I have heard of him," Cecilia said, wiggling in her seat as if struck with a bout of energy. "He is said to be very… refined."

"Refined?" Marina chuckled.

"And handsome," Amelia added. Her father groaned, and she scoffed. "What? He is."

"Everyone speaks highly of him," Cecilia continued. "Even Father has mentioned him before. Had nothing but good things to say about him."

"Oh, he is a gentleman," Lord Trowbridge agreed. "And although I cannot comment on his looks"—he eyed his daughter warningly—"he is a good man. I am sure you will both enjoy his company, as he will yours."

Marina caught her sister trying to catch her eye. Cecilia wore a delighted smirk, one that hinted perfectly well at what she was thinking.

Now, Marina knew that she should not have cared one way or the other about the Duke. She had just come out of a failed engagement, after all, and this was supposed to be her recovery period. The last thing she needed was another scandal, and she sensed that a failed pursuit of a duke would be just that.

Nonetheless, that did not mean she could not imagine it. She, too, had heard of the Duke —handsome, intelligent, insightful, successful in business, and with a pristine reputation. A more perfect man did not exist. And again, while she did not imagine a world where she might pursue him or he might pursue her, thinking about it went some way toward scrubbing the stranger she had met from her mind.

The following night, the three women found themselves gathered in the foyer as they waited for the arrival of the Duke and his brother. A storm was raging outside, one which battered the walls of the manor and blew through the windows. So loud was it that they barely heard the knocking on the door, and when they did hear it, it was like thunder trying to break into the house.

A footman answered the door, and the darkness of night shrouded the two men as they hurried inside from the rain. They wore cloaks with hoods covering their faces, dripping water all over the floor, drawing out the moment as if they knew the girls were watching them.

Cecilia held Marina by the hand, her body shaking with excitement. "That is him," she whispered, subtly nodding toward the taller, wider-set man in the dark cloak. "It must be!"

Marina said nothing. There was something about the man that rang familiar. Those broad shoulders, the way he walked. She eyed him curiously, her heart thundering in her chest, her mind racing as he reached up and pushed off the hood of his cloak.

Marina gasped when she saw him.

"Your Grace!" Lord Trowbridge greeted. "Welcome to my home!"

It was the stranger who pulled her from the fountain! The man whom Marina had decided she despised. The same whom she had spent all of yesterday hating. And the same whom she had been unable to stop thinking about because he looked as good tonight as he did in her mind as he did yesterday. In fact, he looked even better.