She scoffed.
“Stand on the tips of your toes.”
She ground her teeth. “I am.”
“Jump up.”
“What?” she asked in horror.
“Push off the bottom.”
“What if I slip?”
“Then use your hands to propel yourself through the water to the surface.”
She attempted to swallow, but her throat was like sandpaper; her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her heart pounded uncontrollably. She bent her knees, feeling the water at her chin. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to summon all the courage within her. Marcus stood beside her in the pond, and she reminded herself that he would not let her drown. She gripped Mercy’s mane firmly.
She jumped up and rose through the water. For an instant, she floated, and then gravity tugged her body down. Truthfully, she hadn’t leaped that high, but she had done it. A smile blossomed on her lips. “I did it.”
“Now, release Mercy,” Marcus advised.
She froze as if he had asked her to jump into the water from the rocks beside the lake.
“It’s well. I’m here.”
She told her fingers to let go of her horse. But they wouldn’t obey.
“You can do this, Willow,” Marcus said kindly.
She glanced back at the pond’s edge, searching for Christian. He stood tall, arms crossed, a beacon of security, his presence giving her courage. He wouldn’t let her drown, either. She was safe. Slowly, she released her grip on Mercy and instinctively moved her arms through the water to keep her balance.
“Good,” Marcus said. “Very good. Now, walk around while I take Mercy out of the lake.”
“You’re leaving me?” she demanded, her hand reaching for Mercy.
Marcus had already moved the horse away. “No.” And yet, he led Mercy toward the shore.
She took a panicky step after them and another. When the water was just at her breasts, she felt more secure but nowhere near comfortable. She watched Marcus slowly walk from the water before turning her concentration to swimming. Marcus had told her to jump in the water. She stood on the tips of her toes, testing her mobility and balance. She was alone in the pond—one slip, one misstep, and she would go under. Her gaze moved to Christian at the edge of the water. He had stepped forward as if ready to rush to her aid. Concern lowered his brow into a frown. She lifted her hand from the water to wave.
He unclenched his fists slightly, but when Marcus sauntered over, the tension was palpable. Willow could see how their words cut through the air like a knife. Marcus looked back at her, shrugged, and led Mercy into the forest toward their camp.
Christian sat on the bank and removed his boots. He lifted his tunic over his head, revealing his muscled torso.
A warm, bubbling feeling of joy erupted throughout Willow’s body as Christian strode confidently toward her. He seemed larger than life with his broad shoulders, deep blue eyes, and dark, curly hair. She could almost see the ancient Roman god of the sea in Christian’s bearing. She excitedly stretched her hand toward him, and he clasped it with strong fingers.
“Let’s show Marcus how it’s done,” he growled.
“Making love?” she asked playfully.
He bridled, and a grin stretched his lips. “Swimming.”
“You can swim?”
“I can tread water. It’s the most I can show you, but Marcus wasn’t doing anything.”
“He taught me to jump up.” She bent her knees and leaped.
“That’s not swimming. How are you going to touch the bottom of the ocean?”
