by Gayle Callen
He kept rowing. “I don’t know how many you have on under there, but it will be easier to swim without them. And who’s going to see you?”
She blushed. “Very funny.”
She reached up beneath her skirt and fumbled at her waist with the ties to the first petticoat. Water was up well above her ankles now, and the boat moved slower and slower.
“Hurry, Louisa,” Simon said, as sweat poured down his face.
She lifted her bottom and pulled the petticoat down. “You should remove your coat.”
“Good idea.”
She took off two more petticoats, leaving her skirt looking strangely deflated. Her wet legs felt almost bare with only her drawers and skirt covering them.
The boat was now at a dead stop, and the water lapped at her seat, soaking her hips.
“Are you ready?” he asked. “You’ll have to navigate for the swim as well.”
“I’m ready. Let me swim alone first. Maybe I won’t hold you back.”
He said nothing, although he didn’t look convinced.
In silence, they sat still as the water rose higher, faster.
“Let’s jump,” he said. “I don’t want either of us getting caught on something and pulled under with the boat. I’m going in first so that I can help you swim. Then stand on the seat and jump toward me.”
Before she could even speak, he’d jumped in and come sputtering to the surface.
“Can you stand?” she asked.
“No. Hurry!”
She gathered her wet skirts in her hands and stepped up onto the seat. The boat still rocked though almost completely submerged. Then she leapt. The shock of cold water was followed almost immediately by Simon’s flailing hands. She caught one and let him pull her to the surface, where she gasped. He put an arm around her ribs, and she could feel him kicking his legs to remain above water.
“Are you all right?” he said near her ear.
She spat water. “Fine. We need to swim toward the shore behind you. You go first.”
“I’m not leaving you behind me.”
“It will be easier for me to guide from behind. Just go!”
When he let her go, she felt a moment’s panic at the feeling of the water pulling on her. Next to them, the boat disappeared silently. But she kicked her legs and started to swim. It wasn’t long before her legs and arms felt heavy, but she continued to swim alone to conserve Simon’s strength in case she needed him at the end.
“Veer to the right!” she called out, then coughed as she swallowed water. She couldn’t seem to get enough air.
“Louisa!”
“I’m all right!”
He suddenly cursed.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“I hit my shin on something,” he called over his shoulder. “We must be almost there, aren’t we?”
As she grew more tired, the shore seemed just as far away, but she couldn’t say that. “Almost!”
And then she couldn’t talk anymore because it required too much effort. She hadn’t realized how much her corset would restrict her breathing. She was beginning to feel light-headed.
“Louisa, I hit bottom!”
Thank God. She saw Simon’s head bobbing in the water, saw his hand reach back for her, and with a last flail, she grabbed it. He pulled her against him, and she clung to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her head pressed to the side of his, her legs bumping into his. She was breathing in gasps.
“You’re a strong, stubborn woman, Louisa Shelby,” he murmured against her hair.
“Simon, I can’t…get enough air.”
His head lifted. “It’s that damned corset. Hold on.” He took several long strides until his shoulders were out of the water. “Can you stand?”
She nodded, her lungs straining, aching as she held her chin above the water. He spun her around and went to work on the buttons of her dress.
“Damned wet material,” he mumbled.
She swayed, heaving, telling herself that panicking only made her breathe quicker. If she just calmed down, she’d be all right.
“I can feel the corset,” he said. “The strings are so tight, Louisa. Why does a small woman like you torture herself like this?”
“To fit in…the dress.”
He tugged and tugged, and then she felt his fingers moving up her back, loosening the laces, spreading the garment, and at last she was able to take a deep, satisfying breath. The shoulders of her gown drooped forward, and she held them up.
“Did I hear grateful breathing?” he asked.
She smiled at him over her shoulder. “You did.”
“I’ll help you walk.”
“I don’t need—” But she broke off as she stumbled. “Maybe we can help each other.”
He laughed. Arm in arm they pushed through the water, stumbling over rocks. In waist-deep water, they both fell over a submerged log and came up sputtering and laughing. When she tried to reach Simon to guide him to the shore again, she tripped over her skirts and sprawled on top of him. He went under beneath her, and as his face broke the water, he coughed. Slapping him on the back only submerged him again. They were crawling and laughing and less than ten yards from shore when suddenly the bed of the lake was gone again, and she went under. Her feet hit the bottom rather quickly and she bounced back to the surface.
Simon caught her and pulled her against him, treading water. “I should have warned you. You mentioned overhanging trees. This was where we used to swim. This hole was formed by uprooted trees long ago. It was deep enough for a boy to dive into and still be near shore.”
Louisa couldn’t answer. As they bobbed in the water, chest to chest, she was suddenly very aware of the fact that her corset had slid down around her waist. One shoulder was bare but for her chemise strap because the bodice of her gown had fallen forward. But the most startling sensation of all was how few clothes there were separating them, and how pleasant the ache was where her nipples were abraded.
Simon had finally stopped talking. He was breathing quickly, his mouth inches from hers. She stared at his lips, and hers felt parched for the taste of him. The movement of his legs keeping them afloat was distracting somehow, and it dawned on her that it was because there wasn’t much left to separate her from him. Their legs entwined with each movement, and when his thigh bumped high between hers, the shock of pleasure made her gasp.
They were breathing harder and harder, the air mingling between them.
“Where’s the shore?” he asked with a hoarse voice.
“Behind you.” She stared at his mouth, wanting to be kissed.
“Hold on.”
He rolled onto his back and she clung to him, riding on his chest as he took several strokes toward shore. They slid beneath the low overhang of willow trees, and the light became muted. Even the air seemed quieter, as if they were cut off from the world. All she could hear was the gentle lap of water, and the frantic sound of her own breathing.
She could tell when Simon could touch ground again. He stood upright, then caught her legs and pulled them up around his waist. She could feel the long, hard ridge of him riding against her in the most intimate way. For but a moment she hung in his arms, her head back, her body pressed hard to his. He buried his face in her neck and with a groan, rubbed against her with a slow roll of his hips that made her shudder with a dark, wicked delight.
There were no words, no hesitation after that. Their open mouths came together as if they couldn’t taste enough of each other. She held him with her arms and legs wrapped around him, wishing she never had to let him go. As he kissed her he walked backward, then turned and pushed her up against the uneven slope of loose rock at the water’s edge. She was not quite standing, not quite lying back. But he was able to push hard against her, while she enjoyed the wet, warm weight of him as the water lapped beneath her breasts.
With his mouth he worked his way down her neck, sucking and nipping. With his hands he tugged at her bodice, baring her shoulders. When he tried to slide the
straps of her chemise down, they popped in his hands, and he was able to pull the wet garment down.
As her breasts were revealed to the light of day, and the air felt cool across them, she knew she should stop this madness—but she couldn’t. They were in their own world of water and low-hanging trees, and she wanted him. Even if she couldn’t have him for a lifetime, she wanted these precious moments.
With a soft, welcoming moan, she encouraged his exploration. He moved down her body with wet kisses, and she sighed with relief when he licked her nipple with a long, flat stroke. She held his head against her, wrapped her legs even tighter around him as if that would ease the restless ache that wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t get close enough, didn’t have what she needed.
While his mouth was busy worshipping her breasts, beneath the water his hands followed her legs around his waist and then dove beneath her hemline, sliding back up along her inner thighs that were clad only in thin silk drawers. Then he caught her knees and pushed her lower body away from him, holding her legs spread wide, her back riding against the embankment. With nothing to rub against, she felt rising frustration and desire and helplessness. She didn’t know what to do.
“Simon—” She broke off when his hand cupped between her legs, long fingers sliding down and back. She whimpered and writhed as he stroked her and found the slit of her drawers to move deeper. When his fingers slid inside her, she arched back, desperate, churning water around her. Still he kept her pinned to the embankment, his mouth at her breasts, his fingers circling and teasing, then sliding upward to make her burn with an even sharper pleasure. Every flick of his fingers against her stoked a painful desire.
“Please, please,” she whispered, her mouth against his wet hair.
He let go of her, and she groaned.
“Wait, wait,” he said.
She couldn’t see what his hands were doing beneath the water, but she wanted them on her. Just as she reached for him, he tried to pull her legs back up around his waist, but her skirt had floated and bunched between them. Swearing, he tossed them up to her waist. At last he slid back against her, his mouth coming up to kiss her, his body pushing between her thighs. And it wasn’t his fingers, which were still cupped against her bottom. Their bodies slid together intimately, naturally, bare flesh against bare flesh, and she felt him part her, ease inside her.
Against her mouth, he whispered, “I promise the hurt won’t last.”
And then he pulled hard on her hips, sheathing himself. The pain was a burn that faded as her need reawakened and surged higher, stronger, taking away her will with its demands. She held him and kissed him, letting him know with touch and taste that she wanted everything he could give her.
And then he began to move inside her, pressing her against the embankment with each deep stroke. The water splashed with their movements. They surged together and came apart as in battle, each desperate for the release only the other could give. He took her nipple into his mouth. Both hands played her body, his fingers sliding between to stroke her just above their joining.
Pleasure exploded within her, shocking her as it raced outward through her body. He continued to plunge inside her, drawing out the aftershocks until he suddenly groaned and shuddered in her arms. His movements slowed and eased, her legs floated at his waist.
When he lifted his head, she didn’t understand all his changing expressions, but regret and shame were mingled. She cupped his face in her hands and held him.
“Don’t pull away,” she whispered, holding him close for a kiss.
“I have to sometime.”
Kissing him, she clutched his hips with her thighs, desperate to remain a part of him. Because she knew once they were separate people, his regrets would begin.
But not hers. She had held him and showed him her love, and if it wasn’t enough for him, she would have to accept that. But she would continue to do everything in her power to be the only woman he wanted—that he loved. He had to love her—how could she be feeling this way, so tender, so full of wonder, if he didn’t love her?
Chapter 21
Simon could barely think, barely reason. He was buried in the heat and comfort of Louisa, while all around them peaceful water lapped. It was as if his body had assumed control of his mind and taken the pleasure so long denied. He was embarrassed and worried for her and wondering what she might be thinking.
But she held him so close, her thighs clutching his hips to keep him inside her. Her wet hands on his face were a comfort and forgiveness he didn’t deserve. He cupped her cheeks, and swept his thumbs across her lips before he leaned in and kissed her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I’m not.”
Two simple words, so heartfelt, but it was like a knife being plunged deeper.
“Your first time should be special,” he continued, “where you could be treated as you deserve.”
“I will cherish these moments with you for a lifetime. Whenever I am beneath willow trees, this is what I will remember.”
He felt her back arch, knew she was looking over their heads at their private bower, but in doing so, she brought him deeper inside her. A groan escaped him, and mindlessly, he pulled out, then sheathed himself once again.
And felt her flinch.
“I’ve hurt you,” he said in a low voice.
She chuckled. “Isn’t it that way for every woman the first time?”
He pulled out of her and suddenly felt very alone. “We need to get you out of this water. You could take a chill.”
“I don’t feel very cold.”
He sighed. “Me neither.”
But he buttoned his trousers and straightened his shirt.
“I’d take off this corset, but then I’d have to carry it,” she said ruefully. “Can you help me dress?”
“You’re asking the blind man?” he said, attempting to be light and amusing, when all he felt was confused.
He took her arm and helped her climb the steep embankment. They were both shivering now that their intimacy had ended.
“Were you able to pull your corset up?” he asked.
“Yes. My back is to you.”
He found her easily enough, and tugged at her laces. “I’ll never get the dress buttoned if you don’t pull tighter,” she admonished him.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” There was a wealth of meaning in those words, and she must certainly know it.
“Now, Simon, I’ve tied myself into this corset my entire adult life. I will be fine.”
He pulled tighter, dreading a whimper of pain.
But she laughed. “You should see your expression. Tie me off, Simon, and button the dress. We need to get back, before they think we’ve drowned.” After a few minutes, she continued, “I wish you could tell me how I look—or maybe I should be glad I don’t know. My hair is in snarls all the way down my back.”
“You almost drowned. I don’t think anyone will suspect a thing.”
Arm in arm, they began the long walk around the lake. He knew when they left the shelter of the trees because he could feel the warmth of the sun steaming their damp garments.
“I have always loved willow trees,” she said as they walked. She tugged him to the side. “No tripping on rocks.”
“So you foundered our boat so you could be near willow trees?”
She laughed. “Maybe that was it. When I was growing up, we had a special place in our garden, way at the back, a pond surrounded by walls and shrubs and overhung with willow trees. My sisters and I used to hide there and tell secrets and plan our futures.”
He wondered if she regretted the lost innocence of her girlhood. Discovering her reputation had taken some of it away, and he’d just taken the rest. But all he said was, “I can’t imagine you’d want to tell them why you’ll now associate willow trees with me.”
“You never know. We share everything.”
“Ah, then it will be my turn to have a reputation.”
They spent an hour t
alking about nothing and everything, and to Simon it passed far too quickly.
“Oh, look, I think I see Georgie!” Louisa said. “Wave!”
He lifted his arm once, and then left the waving to her. It was as if she was leaving him, being pulled back into the world away from the intimacy they’d shared. And the selfish bastard that he was, he wanted to keep her all to himself.
And that would only hurt her worse. He couldn’t let her fall in love with him. It wouldn’t be fair.
Maybe she felt sorry for him; maybe she thought she was helping him. He felt like the world’s biggest fool.
He heard Georgie’s cry. “You two look terrible! I thought you went boating!”
“We ended up swimming,” Louisa said. “I was not a very good navigator.”
“The boat sank?” Paul Reyburn said.
Simon felt startled and guilty, knowing that someone beside his naïve sister was seeing their disheveled condition. What did he and Louisa truly look like? And could Paul tell what had transpired?
“I didn’t know what could possibly have happened to you when I saw a petticoat floating in the water,” Georgie said, “and no sign of the boat!”
Oh, God, this was worse than he had feared. He steeled himself to appear sincere, but Louisa beat him to an explanation.
“It was Simon’s idea,” she said.
He could have groaned. He was glad he couldn’t see Paul’s face.
“He was worried I would drown if I tried to swim in so many layers of clothing. So I had to remove my petticoats. And he was right. I felt so heavy when I was trying to swim. If we hadn’t been near shore…” She trailed off.
Still holding her arm, he could feel her shudder.
“How frightening!” Georgie said. “You both need to get into the house at once. If you take ill, Grandmama will be beside herself!”
Louisa spent the day coddled and fussed over by Lady Wade and Georgie, and she was grateful for the distraction from her tumultuous thoughts. After her hot bath, they made her stay wrapped in blankets all day. They sent a tray up for dinner, insisting that the dining room was full of unhealthy drafts.
She never saw Simon, but he was much in her thoughts. She did not regret their lovemaking, although momentarily she worried that he only felt he could be intimate with her because her reputation was already stained.
