Chapter Twelve

July 25, 1815

As Benedict stripped down to his breeches at the side of Hummingbird Lake, he tossed a grin to Traverston. "Coming in with me? I intend to teach Mrs. Stowe how to swim." The day was quite warm for Lake District standards, which was all the more reason to spend part of the afternoon in the water.

"That depends," the earl drawled from the blanket on the grass where he lay on his back. "Is the delightful widow going to swim nude?"

"She is not." He threw an amused glance down the way. Behind a stand of scrubby pines and shrubberies, Marjorie waited, and if all had gone according to plan, she was clad in a linen shift with a bodiced petticoat over that, which provided a modicum of modesty in the event the earl wished to peek but wouldn't impede her movements in the water.

"Then, no. Compared to you, I'm a rather pale fish, and I don't want her comparing me to you. I'll simply wait for you both here." He waved Benedict off. "The day is fair. Soon enough, autumn will be here to steal the warmth."

He nodded. Since the conversation at the swing yesterday, he'd felt especially close to the widow. They'd spent hours out here, watching the water and picking at the basket of food Cook had sent out. If either of them had felt inclined to talk, they did, but for the most part, they were merely together.

"Don't you have pressing business in the Highlands to attend? Why do you linger here?"

"Ah." Traverston grinned. "The Highlands can wait another week or so. I wish to see how your relationship with Mrs. Stowe goes. If you establish a solid foundation, then I shall perhaps leave knowing you will be anchored to this world once again and I needn't worry about you."

Benedict's chest tightened. "And if I'm not?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Then I will stay. I refuse to lose you again." The earl's gaze shifted to a hard look. "That woman over there is good for you, Syn, and yet the best you've managed to offer her is the position as your mistress? For shame, man. You need to marry that woman, make her your marchioness, and live again."

"And if I cannot? If I don't wish to risk giving my heart away?"

The other man snorted. "Even a blind man can see you are halfway besotted with her. You haven't kept yourself or your heart aloof. You are invested and have feelings for her." Traverston shrugged. "What happens in life happens. Our duty is to make the best of the time we have—pain or no pain, but isn't the joy worth that?"

"Perhaps." In recent days, the maudlin pit he'd fallen into didn't have that great a hold on him. Was it because of Marjorie's influence or was it due to him not thinking so heavily about the past and what he'd lost? It was difficult to ascertain. Then he shook himself from the contemplations. "She is an American."

"I know, but she has a great verve for life, is motivated and daring. The perfect match."

"She knows nothing of the English beau monde or even our society."

"Are you trying to talk yourself into marrying her or out of it?" The earl chuckled. "Going into it not knowing anything or having a bias is probably your best choice. She has no loyalties except to you."

Benedict shoved a hand through his hair, but his chest remained tight. "She is advanced in age with a slim chance of bearing an heir." Not that he cared. There was a cousin in the line who could inherit the titles and estates. That wasn't of uppermost importance in his mind. Or at least it hadn't been, for he'd planned to follow Phoebe into death just two weeks ago, but now?

Now, he might wish to live, and the knowledge was surprising.

"Ha!" Amusement danced in Traverston's eyes. His grin was wide and this side of cheeky. "You are finally realizing that everything you have ever wanted is nearly before you, and now you don't know what to do about it."

"Do shut up, William." But one corner of his mouth twitched. "I shall see you after the swimming has concluded."

Not wanting more conversation with his best friend that he couldn't make sense of, Benedict hastened to the curve of the lake where Marjorie waited behind the trees and bushes, and damn if he wasn't relieved and happy to see her.

"I apologize for the delay."

She waved a hand in dismissal. "Think nothing of it. I was enjoying the antics of two swans. They are quite adorable with their string of babies trailing behind."

"I agree. The cygnets are amusing." If they weren't about to swim and Traverston wasn't lurking close by, he would have Marjorie down on her back in a thrice, for the awareness that raced over his skin was undeniable. "However, we shall need to share the water with the birds. If you intend to stay on my properties for any length of time, I would like for you to learn how to swim."

The widow nodded. "I agree, but why do you seem so demanding about it?"

"Henry needed to learn." A muscle ticced in his cheek as he took her hand and led her to the pebbled shore. "I wished to teach him, but Phoebe wanted to delay that saying he was too young. She told me a child had inherent instincts about such things." It was one of the things they'd argued about shortly before the child's death, and it had always made him feel guilty.

"I don't know if my son has ever been in the water, but then, there aren't any lakes near my husband's plantation in Virginia. There is a creek, and a bit farther on a river."

"It doesn't matter. If one is near water of any kind, one should learn how to survive if there is a problem." Not letting his grip slack, Benedict pulled her into the water that was still a bit brisk, even for late July. She must have thought so too, for she uttered a bit-back squeal. "The water is dangerous to those who cannot swim."

She sucked in a breath as the surface slapped against her chest just beneath her breasts. "Anything is dangerous if one doesn't respect it."

"True." At least she was matter of fact about it. "The one thing you need to remember is to always keep your legs and arms moving. It might become a matter of life and death." As he talked, he edged further from the shore until his feet no longer touched the bottom. "Cup the water with your hands and move your feet in a paddling motion, much as a dog might. This will keep you buoyant and your head above the water line." For a few moments, Benedict demonstrated how to move so she could see. "Once you master that, we shall move onto the next lesson."

With her being a good half a foot shorter than he, she was soon without mooring, and in a panic, Marjorie dipped beneath the water. When he fished her out, she clung to his arm with rivulets of water running down her face and her glorious blonde hair plastered to her head.

"Easy. You must remain calm. That is the second rule of any sort of disaster or danger. Panic will only exacerbate the situation and cloud your judgment and prevent you from getting to safety."

"What if I drown?" She threw an arm about his shoulders, her eyes wide with unease, clearly not enjoying the lesson thus far.

"I won't let that happen." It was a constant battle between living in the present and fighting with the past, knowing that Phoebe had chosen to walk directly into a lake and let the water overtake her. "In fact, I refuse to lose you to that. You have my word."

"All right." She gave him a curt nod. "Should I try again?"

"Absolutely. We are not leaving this lake until I'm assured you can stay above the water and can paddle yourself to the side."

For the next hour, he taught her the basics of swimming, of how to move her body in order to save herself, how to work with the currents and waves in order to reach the shore in a safe and efficient manner. He taught her it was crucial that she keep her eyes open in the water to puzzle out where she was going. When she screamed with surprise when a fish touched her leg, he grinned like a loon but continued the lessons. Soon enough, she was paddling about like the most energetic of dogs, and even though she more often than not went about in an awkward circle, it was progress.

When he was confident she could keep her head above the water, he set out to show her stronger strokes that would actually propel her faster to safety or get her from one place to another if she found herself in deeper water. Swimming was the sort of exercise he loved, and he often indulged in it.

"We will continue our lessons daily if you wish."

Majorie nodded while paddling for all she was worth. "I would like that. Also, it is something we can do together."

"Indeed, it is." And oddly enough, he looked forward to that. "Now, hang on to me and do some kicking. As soon as you feel comfortable, we will add the arm movements."

In essence, she was the ideal student, and for her living all her adult life on a tobacco plantation in Virginia, she seemed to take to the water quite well. Her swimming wasn't perfect by any means, but she dipped beneath the surface less and less as her confidence grew and the lessons went on.

When she paddled back to him once more, Benedict was so proud that he caught her in his arms and kissed her. "By Jove, I believe you are getting on quite well."

"It must be the excellent teacher." She let her lips glance along the side of his neck. "Does that relieve your unspoken worry that water will not steal me away?"

The words had shock slamming into his chest, for he had, indeed, worried about that. "Slightly, but the risk will always be there."

"There is risk in everything, Syn, but you can't allow fear to keep you from living your life or finding enjoyment therein."

"There is, and there is an effort to remember that each day." She was so damned logical that he couldn't refute her statements. "Have you had enough of the water today?" As he spoke, he drew them both toward the edge of the lake, and once he was able to touch the bottom, he halted and simply held her.

"Mmm, not quite." She kissed him while drawing a hand down his chest, but she didn't stop there. As soon as her feet apparently touched the bottom and she was stable, Marjorie continued to slide her hand between their bodies. "I want to play for a bit before we return to the earl's location."

A chuckle left his throat. "I don't know how successful you'll be since the water is a bit cold, which doesn't work well for encouraging an erection." But he was game to try.

"Do you not find me attractive, Syn? That I can't arouse you regardless of where we are?" Humor rang in her tones, yet when she pressed her lips to his left pectoral, Benedict's throat went dry.

"Of course not. As of yet, I haven't found anything I take exception to about you." Which gave him pause. Had she hidden her real self from him? After all, it had only been twenty days since they'd first met. "I'm merely telling you how a man's body works when—" A strangled cry left him the second she took one of his nipples between her lips.

"Let us try a bit of an experiment then." Again, she bedeviled that nipple until it hardened then she flicked the nub with the tip of her tongue.

A rush of sensation flooded his bloodstream. Why did he never remember that those were an erogenous zone? He hissed in a breath as she continued her work, and not knowing what to do, he slid a hand down her back to squeeze one of her buttocks through the fabric of her clothing. And what was more, his shaft twitched to life.

"Hmm, working, is it?" Teasing was clear in her voice. Slowly, she drew him toward the shoreline but then paused when the water lapped against her midway up her back, which hit him nearer to the waist. "Let's see what other trouble we can get up to." Watching him the whole time, Marjorie undid the buttons of his frontfalls. As his length tumbled out of the fabric, she once more wrapped her hand around his semi-erect member. "While I work, what are some of your dreams for the future?"

How could he concentrate on anything when the heat of her hand moving up and down on his shaft was the only thing rattling around in his brain? "I… ah…" The rhythm she set was both firm enough and determined enough to encourage his length to harden. Needing something to help distract him, Benedict cupped one of her breasts with his other hand and worried the nipple with the pad of his thumb. "I don't wish to be alone," he finally confessed in a strained voice.

A slight moan came from her, but Marjorie didn't pause in her quest to make him fully erect. "I can empathize with that. After the lonely stretch that my marriage had become before it finally ended, I don't want to be alone either." The emotions in her eyes were shadowed. What was she truly thinking? "Overall, I want to belong somewhere. I want to know love because I've never had that before. I want to find contentment and peace, to know that where I end up is where I've tried to go all along."

"To be somewhere that feels like you are home," he finished softly for her.

"Yes." She nodded and never broke eye contact. "To feel so incredibly grateful at the end of a day when my head hits the pillow that I can't imagine being anywhere else."

That was how he was beginning to feel in her company. Was that possible? In such a short time? Or was that him being desperate to stay away from the previous maudlin thoughts?

Not knowing what else to say, he took hold of her shoulders and brought his lips crashing down on hers, tried to tell her without words how he felt, how much he admired the hell out of her and was thankful that she'd landed in his life.

Never did she stop stroking him off, and that rhythm of her fingers and palm gliding along his shaft, the sensation of her squeezing his stones before returning to his member had that organ awakening and lengthening.

When she lightly bit his bottom lip, desire surged through his prick and she chuckled, but it was a smokey sound that only enhanced what she was already doing to him. Then her confidence must have surged, for she increased her strokes, and coupled with the water, it felt so much as if he were spearing into her body that he moved his hips in time to her passes.

Faster and faster she worked. Harder and harder he thrust into her hand. There was something wildly improper and raw about the act in this location, made real and honest by the fact that he held her gaze the entire time. The opportunity to watch her reaction and the emotions on her face while she pleasured him left him staggered. When she didn't guard herself or question the entirety of their relationship, the only thing left was respect, fondness, and even… love.

Then his sanity left him. The knowledge that she might care for him even with all his flaws and his reticence to share with her left him gasping. And that had him tumbling tip over tail before he was ready, before he'd had time to make peace with his past.

Seconds later, the release rolled through his body when he wasn't expecting it. Exquisite sensation raced through his blood and into every nerve ending. A shout left his throat. He shook from the force of the sudden end to the teasing. Over and over, his shaft pulsed and pumped in her hand.

Temporarily removed from the present, Benedict gathered her tightly against his chest and held onto her, lost in her and what they were building together despite the obstacles that would be thrown against them if he moved forward.

And then it didn't matter. Not in this moment. She was the light he'd been missing ever since Phoebe had left him, and though he was terrified about what would come next, he didn't care. It was time for a change. Marjorie had taken him at face value and made him better without wanting anything from him in return, but she'd been delighted in his attention, and that had taken him by surprise.

Which only had him wanting more. What did that mean? He had no idea, but he vowed to ponder it until everything made sense.

"That must have been amazing," she murmured into his shoulder, and he felt her smile against his skin.

"It was, and you can be sure I'll return the favor as soon as I'm able."

"If I continue to spend time with you out of doors, my skin will be as golden as yours. Surely that is not acceptable in women within your society."

"I thought you didn't care what society deemed correct?"

"I don't, but why tempt fate?" She giggled. "Mmm. If you can catch me, you may have carte blanche regarding my body. As long as we stay hidden from the earl." Then she wriggled from his grasp and pelted toward the side of the lake.

Well, bloody hell. There was no end to surprises from the widow. With a wide grin, Benedict tucked his semi-flaccid member back into his breeches and did up the buttons. "I'll wager I will catch you up quite soon, Mrs. Stowe."

What he would do with her beyond putting her through her paces, he didn't know, but he looked forward to thinking about it. Perhaps he would ask Traverston's counsel later tonight after dinner, because one thing was certain: there was no way he could survive if she walked out of his life.