Page 43 of Duke of Bronze
Anna pressed a trembling hand against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath her fingertips. "You had me worried," she admitted, her voice breathless from the chill of the water and—if she were honest with herself—the sheer relief of seeing him unharmed. "I thought?—"
"That I had drowned?" Colin interrupted, laughter bubbling in his throat as he raked a hand through his soaked, disheveled hair. Droplets clung to his lashes, trailing down the sharp planes of his face. "I swim better than the fish in this lake, I assure you."
Anna rolled her eyes. "Then perhaps you ought to build yourself a castle beneath the water and take up permanentresidence," she quipped, shaking her head at his insufferable self-satisfaction.
"Now that is an idea," Colin chuckled.
She meant to scoff—truly, she did. But as he shifted closer, the amusement in her chest gave way to something quieter and far more dangerous. Her gaze caught on the rivulets of water sliding down his skin, on the way his shirt clung scandalously to his broad frame. And then, as though sensing her thoughts, he lifted a hand and gently tucked a damp curl behind her ear, his fingers trailing down the curve of her cheek with an almost reverent slowness.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, attempting levity, though her voice came out softer than intended.
"Like what?"
"Like you're memorizing my face."
"Perhaps I am."
Her heart stumbled. She stared at him, stunned into silence.
"You keep catching me off guard," she whispered, the words slipping out before she could call them back.
He smiled faintly. "You do the same to me, Anna. More than you know."
A shiver coursed through her, though it had nothing to do with the water or the cool air.
His fingers found another damp curl on the side of her face, brushing it back with a gentleness that startled her. They lingered a moment longer than they ought to.
Anna held her breath, and her pulse sang in her ears.
"You're trembling," he murmured.
"From the cold," she lied, though they both knew better.
He was close enough now that she could see the flecks of green in his eyes; the way they darkened as they searched hers. His gaze dropped to her lips, then flicked back up, waiting.
Then he leaned ever so slightly toward her. The space between them shrank, the air growing thick with something unspoken. Anna's breath hitched, and before she could stop herself, her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation.
But instead of the warmth of his lips, she felt his hands—strong and sure—suddenly grasp her waist, lifting her from the water in one swift motion. Before she could so much as gasp in protest, she found herself deposited back onto the boat.
Mouth parted in stunned disbelief, she barely had time to process the mortifying turn of events before he hoisted himself up and settled across from her.
They paddled back to shore in silence, and the lake's tranquility did little to calm the storm brewing within Anna.
Despite her drenched state, an odd warmth clung to her skin, seeping through her limbs and settling somewhere deep in her chest. And though the sun was steadily drying their clothes, her cheeks only grew warmer with each passing moment.
They settled on a blanket on the banks beneath the mellow afternoon light, and Anna hugged her knees, staring resolutely at the rippling lake before them, willing herself not to look at him. Not to let her thoughts wander back to the near-disastrous moment in the water—the moment she had lost herself, yet again, to his pull.
She had failed. Miserably. What was meant to be a simple test of her resolve had instead become undeniable proof of her weakness where Colin was concerned.
Her fingers clenched around the damp fabric of her skirts.
"I see the fish have left you with a souvenir," Colin drawled. He reached over and plucked a thin strand of weed from her sleeve, holding it up between his fingers with a bemused smirk.
Anna let out a breath she had not realized she was holding, grasping onto the distraction with all the enthusiasm of a drowning woman clutching at driftwood.
"It is a sign, you see," she said, tipping her chin upward in mock self-importance.
Colin quirked a brow. "A sign?"
