Page 9 of The Naiad's Lover

“You could be there while I took lessons,” I said.

“No. I do not wish for them to see you naked.”

“In that case, I will keep my drawers on.”

It didn’t appease him. He stopped us to skim a possessive hand from my collarbone to my groin, which he cupped. “They will still see you. You must keep all of your clothes on. Your coat and your breeches. And your boots.”

“That will make it hard to swim, don’t you think?”

He pondered this for a moment before he said with reluctance, “I do not want you to struggle.” He thought for a second more. “You must blindfold them.”

I laughed, pulling away and continuing up the path. “This feels like something of a double standard, my love.” I glanced over my shoulder.

He raised a haughty, questioning brow.

“You are always naked,” I said.

He tutted and strode after me. “They can look at me all they want. I do not care.”

“But you care if they look at me?”

“They cannot have you. Theycannot. They will see you and they will want you. They will…they will try totakeyou.”

I heartily doubted it.

Henrik was happily married to his wife of many years, Agnetha. Mikko was single, yes, but he was a serious and kind man in his early thirties, and surely not lacking for suitors.

While I didn’t want to dismiss Sayan’s concerns—or his double standards—out of hand, I also didn’t think that either of them were in any danger of losing their hearts or their heads if they were to see me naked.

“If you are there,” I said, “no man would be able to take his eyes off you long enough to even notice me.”

He tipped his head consideringly. “You are right, of course.” He slid his hands sensually down his long torso to frame his erect shaft, and lowered his lashes. “I would make sure of it.”

“Not too sure, though. If they’re completely distracted by you, they might forget that they’re supposed to be teaching me to swim.”

He grunted.

“I will ask Mikko,” I said.

“No.”

“Very well, Henrik.”

“Not Henrik.”

“All right.” Sayan was smug until I added, “I will wait until Lars visits, and he can teach me.”

At Lars’ name, Sayan’s scowl returned.

There was no hiding my smile this time. When he saw it, Sayan scowled even harder.

“NotLars,” he said, the name on his lips scathing.

“Why not Lars?” I asked.

He growled low in his throat. “Because you aremine.”

I stopped and turned to face him. He kept walking until we were toe to toe, our bodies almost touching, and tilted his head down.

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