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Once he had entered those woods with Juliet it had been as if they were in their own world with their own rules, and nothing and no one else mattered. He remembered there was a track through the woods, which led directly to an old wooden gate, and once through the gate, one could safely make one’s way via the shelter of the trees to the summerhouse . . .
Helpless to stop it, he felt himself being catapulted back into the past. Juliet’s dark eyes smiling into his, her fingers warm and entangled with his, her lips so soft and welcoming under his . . . Impatiently, Ash shook his head to clear the memories. He’d been nineteen for God’s sake! He’d had many intimate experiences of the flesh since then, and yet he realised he could barely remember any of them. Surely, he told himself, slightly desperate now, Juliet had changed? He knew he had. They were no longer the young couple they had been, wild for each other, spending every moment they could together.
In love, a voice whispered in his head, but he ignored it.
Perhaps it would be best if he turned around and went back to London? There was obviously something wrong with him and he needed to calm his thoughts, before he sank in this mire of his own making . . .
A splash came from up ahead, followed by another.
For a moment he thought he must have imagined it. Surely she didn’t still swim naked? His heart began to pound, and before he could stop himself or think of the consequences, he was moving in the direction of the sounds.
There was definitely something out there, he thought, as he stood shielded by some of the undergrowth that grew at the lakeside. Moving further along the path, Ash could now see quite well in the starlit dusk.
Someone was swimming and there had only been one person he could remember who swam in this lake. He opened his mouth to call out and then stopped himself. Would she welcome his intrusion? But then again this might be his one and only chance to discover what she really felt about their shared past. He had no illusions about the effect his questions would have on her. She would tell him to go away, but right here and now she was as exposed as it was possible to be, and he could . . .
All rational thought left him as the swimmer crossed in front of him.
Ivory skin was clearly visible beneath the surface as she glided through the lake. She reached the end and then turned in the water like a fish. Ash saw a sleek thigh and the curve of her hip, and the dark strands of her hair clinging to her shoulders. The sheer beauty of the moment, of her, took his breath, and sent heat spiralling deep inside him.
He edged closer. She was moving more swiftly, as if she had come to the end of her evening exercise, kicking up swathes of water and heading back to her own side of the lake.
Ash didn’t think. Hastily he made his way around to her escape route, and found her clothing, hidden in the bushes, just as he’d known they would be. He could have changed his mind, walked away, but he knew it was too late for that. But neither was he going to lurk out of sight, like some sort of village pervert. If she wanted to abuse him then so be it.
Ash stepped out into the starlight.
At first she didn't see him. She had reached the edge, only a few feet from him, and paused to catch her breath. Her face was a pale oval, with her dark hair clinging to her skin and making an effective cloak, and even her lashes were speckled with droplets of water. He opened his mouth to warn her, but before he could utter a word she had risen to her feet, the water lapping at her waist.
And then he couldn’t speak.
She was naked, and he saw the soft swell of her belly, her breasts smooth and rounded, dusky pink nipples hardened by the chill. As he stared, she gathered up her hair and began to wring the water from it, bending forward slightly, the bare skin of her back and arms reflecting the silver light from the stars.
A siren, alluring and seductive. Irresistible.
He couldn’t stand here any longer without speaking because, Ash reminded himself, he was a gentleman. And gentlemen did not spy on naked women, no matter how intimate they had once been.
“Juliet.”
Her head came up. Her dark eyes widened. In a flash he saw the recognition in her gaze, quickly followed by the realisation that she was standing before him wearing nothing but the lake. Juliet gave a gasping scream and ducked down beneath the water.
He waited, expecting her to surface immediately. And waited. And still he waited.
The ripples that she had caused had fanned out and vanished, and now the lake was still. And silent. Anxiously he asked himself how long she had been under.
Too long!
There was nothing for it. Ash leapt into the lake in his fashionable Jermyn Street clothing, not even waiting to remove his shoes.
The water wasn’t deep, and he began to wade forward with his hands stretched out beneath the surface, trying to find her. “Juliet!” he called, desperate now. “Juliet!”
And that was when she shot out of the water, gasping for air, straight into his arms.
Chapter Six
Summer, 1816, Crevitch Castle, Somerset
Juliet was trying to breathe. Strong arms were wrapped tight about her, and her face was pressed into a fashionable jacket with metal buttons. Ashley Linholm had jumped fully clothed into the lake to save her and she wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or cry. So instead she clutched onto him, while she struggled to regain her feet.
And her equilibrium.
