Page 67 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

“I shall teach you to swim as well,” he said, a small smile touching the corner of his mouth.

“I think not.”

“Do you doubt my skill?”

“I doubt my own good sense in allowing you so near me.”

His smile deepened. “Your good sense has always seemed formidable.”

“It becomes considerably less so whenever you look at me in that manner.”

“What manner is that, Darcy?” he asked softly.

Self-preservation made her turn away before she answered far too honestly and wade toward the bank. His low, knowing laugh followed her, making her scowl, but Darcy felt absurdly proud of reaching the bank without once looking back.

She caught at the grass and attempted to haul herself up, but her soaked gown dragged against her legs, and she slid back into the water. On her second attempt, strong hands closed around her hips and steadied her.

“I’ve got you.”

His breath moved warmly over the nape of her neck, and she stifled a gasp.

Oh God.

His palms spanned her hips through the sodden fabric, while the hard warmth of his chest hovered a fraction from her back. Heat pooled in her veins and throbbed low in her body. How could so simple a touch feel so provocative and indecently intimate? This must be why society insisted upon distance between unmarried men and women. Without those precious inches of safety, temptation became almost unbearable.

“I…”

“Do you want me to help you up?”

The wretch. Why did he sound so darkly amused?

“Yes,” she managed, her breath trembling over her lips.

“Then cease trying to escape me.”

“I was attempting to escape the lake.”

“Of course,” he murmured, in a tone that made it plain he believed no such thing.

His fingers tightened upon her hips, and his body shifted nearer until the soaked fabric between them seemed no barrier at all. Darcy’s breath suspended as anticipation scythed through her, sharp and bright. For one reckless instant, she imagined him turning her in his arms and lowering his mouth to hers. Then he lifted her, and time moved once more.

He helped her onto the bank, and once she stood upon the grass, she turned despite every warning of good sense. Sebastian remained in the water below her, his hands braced upon the bank, his gaze moving slowly over the wet gown clinging to her body. Wariness and yearning throbbed through Darcy in equal measure.

“Darcy.”

The sound of her name in his low voice seemed to touch every place his gaze had lingered.

“You are trembling.”

“The water is cold.”

“The day is warm.”

She could not answer.

“Did I frighten you?” he asked.

“No,” she said too quickly. “That is the difficulty.”