Page 86 of A Legacy of the Light

He pushes his pants down his legs and I have to look away. Being this close to him with that little clothing is making my chest feel tight and my mouth start to water. I have never seen anyone so perfectly built.

“I will not have my court disrupted by your stay.” King Raghnall’s voice rings clear in my mind. But no one is here. It’s just me and Tavish right now.

“Okay, but turn around while I change,” I tell him.

He scoffs. “So you can check me out as much as you want, but I can’t sneak a peek? Where’s the equality, Elsie?”

“Just turn around,” I demand.

He sighs but turns his back to me, walks toward the edge of the pool, and wades in.

Do I watch his taut body as it descends into the water? Yes. Yes, I do.

Am I blatantly staring at the way his powerful back muscles shift? Yep, that too.

Why does he have to look like that?

He dives under the surface and swims to the deepest part near the rock face.

After quickly stripping and tiptoeing to the edge of the clear blue pool in my bra, panties, and the Craobh, I dip a toe in first, to check the temperature. When I find that it’s warm, I submerge myself until I’m covered up to my chin.

Tavish emerges a few feet away and pushes his hair back. Water trickles down his face and onto his cut shoulders jutting above the surface.

“It’s warmer over here,” he calls, motioning me to join him.

I walk toward him but soon have to start swimming as the bed of the pool slopes downward. “How deep is it over there?”

“I’m touching the floor right now, so not that deep.”

“You have long-ass legs, though,” I remind him.

He chuckles. “I won’t let you drown.”

I reach him quickly and keep a foot of space between us while resting a hand on the rock and tread water since I’m not tall enough to reach the rocky bottom like him. He’s right; it is warmer here. The thermal vents push warmth between the rocky surface below, heating the water to a wonderful temperature.

This close to him, I notice the scar on his left shoulder. I noticed a few others when I saw him training.

“I’ve thought of my first question.”

He leans his head back against the rock and moves his hands through the water. “Go on.”

“How did you get your scars?”

“Which ones?”

I gesture my head to the one on his shoulder. “Start with that one.”

“That one is from a Brollachan. Those claws are nasty, and the shadows they wield slows down our healing.”

“How old were you?”

“Is that your second question?”

“No. It’s a follow-up. That’s allowed.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

I lift a brow and wait for him to continue.