Page 4 of The Sea Siren of Broadwater Bottom
She reached over the side of the rowboat, feeling around. “You know how my father is about his library. I’ll never hear the end of it if I leave one of his books out in a rainstorm. Here it is,” she said, pulling it from the boat.
His face broke into a broad grin as he took in the title. “You read Plutarch in a rowboat?”
“I—er—yes.” She cleared her throat. “Of course, much of it is set on the ship of Theseus, and the rocking of the rowboat makes you feel like you’re on the water, and… and…”
She trailed off, ducking her head. Had she thought being caught in the middle of a pond in a sodden dress was embarrassing? It appeared she had stumbled upon something even worse.
But a soft smile stole across Edward’s face, a real smile, without even a trace of mockery. “That strikes me as the ideal place to read it.”
The sky gave another rumble, and he glanced heavenwards, serious again. “I’ll need a hand to swim. Can you hold the book up out of the water? Perhaps we can manage it if you wrap your other arm around my neck.”
The only advantage of being half frozen was that it prevented her cheeks from bursting into flames as she hooked her arm up around his shoulders. Now her entire body was pressed against his, and a shudder rippled through her.
“We must get you out of this cold water,” he said, misinterpreting the reason for her trembling. He shifted so he was floating on his back, pulling her on top of him, wrapping one arm around her back and resting his hand gently on her waist. “Is that all right?”
Was that all right? She was lying on top ofEdward Astleywith naught but a few layers of wet muslin to separate them. She might feel mortified now, but she had a feeling this would go down as the best moment of her whole entire life.
She nodded her assent, and he let go of the boat. He floated along on his back, making slow, smooth strokes with his free arm, propelling them steadily toward the shore.
Mere seconds later, he put his feet down. “Here we are.” He grasped her about the waist again and helped her rise to standing.
“And we even managed to keep Plutarch dry. More or less,” she laughed, holding the book between two fingers in an effort to keep it from being soaked by her wet hands.
He grinned. “Excellent.” He released her waist and offered his arm. “Now, let’s get you back home before—”
She started to sway as soon as he withdrew his hands. She hadn’t realized she was quite so cold, but it was clear her legs wouldn’t hold her. He snatched her up about the waist, pulling her body flush against his.
Plutarch was not so fortunate. The book slipped from her tenuous grasp and plunged into the pond.
“Oh, no!” she cried. “Father is going tokillme.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, somehow managing to hold her upright while bending down to fish the book out of the water. “That was my fault.”
“It absolutely was not.” She gave a bleak chuckle. “Disaster is my signature. It has a way of following me wherever I go.”
“Are you all right now?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said, taking a step forward. “I just—”
Her knees promptly buckled. Edward was on her in an instant, living up to his nickname as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to shore.
He seated her on a log and immediately draped his coat around her shoulders.
“Oh!” Elissa raised her hands in protest. “But… will you not be cold, my lord?”
“I insist,” he said as he pulled the flaps closed around her. “You’ve been soaked through in this chill air for too long already.” He scooped up his boots and found a spot farther down the log upon which to sit.
As soon as he turned to his boots, Elissa buried her nose in the collar of his coat.Bergamot. It was the same shaving tonic he had started to use when he’d been around sixteen years old. She could remember catching a hint of that musky citrus scent as she rounded the corner toward the classroom, and the thrill of anticipation that would go through her, because she would know before she even saw him that he was in attendance that day.
All semblance of rational thought fled as Edward scooped her up again and carried her to his horse. He lifted her up onto the saddle easily, then adjusted the stirrup so she could insert her foot. She was seated sideways, even though it was not a sidesaddle.
“I won’t go faster than a walk,” he said. “Do you think you can manage?”
“Of course,” she replied, grabbing the pommel for purchase.
She really thought she could, but after only a few steps, she began to sway, and came close to tumbling off.
He immediately drew his gelding to a halt. “Miss Elissa?” he asked, his expression sincere.
